A Tiny Little Seed

How I learned about my infertility.


I have a tiny seed.  A few tiny seeds left to me.  That’s what the doctor said.

My first response was confusion.  What does it mean that my AMH level is .92?

I listened to the voicemail from the doctor again.  It’s time to pursue aggressive treatment.  It’s time to do IUI.  It’s time for drugs.  But why?  What’s wrong with me?

At this date, I still haven’t spoken to the doctor about it.  I still don’t understand all the ramifications.  All I know is what hours of scouring the internet, podcasts, youtube, even peer-reviewed medical journals, has told me:

  1. My ovaries are aging prematurely and I will probably go into menopause very early.
  2. Modern medicine knows no cure.
  3. Some people, however, have turned it around.
  4. IUI might work or it might not.  IVF might work, or it might not.
  5. It could be caused by an autoimmune disease, or it might be caused by genetic factors, or the cause might still be unknown to science.
  6. The people who have turned their fertility around did it through diet, supplements, acupuncture, and persistent pursuit of answers through their medical professionals.

But what’s really troubling me?  Why do I spend hours scouring the internet?  Because I don’t want to stop and face reality–I’m in denial.  The truth is that my body decided to skip the most fruitful time of my life.  My body decided:  no children, no vivacious youthful womanhood, no entrance into the sisterhood of mothers–instead I am going to skip all that and go through menopause at the same time as my mother.

It feels like I lost two decades of my life.  I have no friends going through menopause–all my friends are becoming mothers.  I am losing part of myself that I will never get back.  Who will I be on the other side of menopause in my early 30s?  Who could I possibly be?

All I know is that I’m not ready to lie down and die yet.  I’m not ready.  I’ve already spent two years hiding from this diagnosis of infertility in a pit of depression and self-destruction that drowned out my despair.  But I’m not done.  I will not go silent into that good night.  I’m going to fight, I’m going to struggle, I’m going to persevere.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”  Romans 5:3-5

I don’t know if I’m ready to rejoice yet, but I’m ready to claim that promise of hope.  The hope that does not put me to shame.  And that means no more despair.  No more sitting around thinking that God left me here to struggle on my own.  The truth I know is that I have to plant the seed, I have to water it…but only God can make it grow.

So God, I’m going to be planting a lot of seeds.  I’m going to plant every seed I can find, and I’m going to water them faithfully.  Not because I have faith in my watering abilities, or in the seed’s ability to grow–because both are marred by sin.  God, I don’t know how you will do it, but please don’t let my hope put me to shame.  I’m waiting for you God.  In the meantime I’ll be watering.  You know where to find me.