A year ago, we lost a baby to miscarriage. It happened after a year of infertility and just a couple weeks of elation at finally getting the positive test. It has been an entire year since the miscarriage and the cycle of infertility is frustrating us once again.
For two years, we have tried to take a posture of seeking and sharing truth. It is a value in our marriage and a necessity to a well-lived life. It is easy to get lost in fears and hopes, the roller coaster of ups and downs that come each cycle, each symptom, each test. We’ve learned that the truth is complicated. It is an amalgamation of feeling, fact, and faith.
As we chase the truth, it seems to elude us. We don’t know why we haven’t gotten pregnant or if we ever will. We’re not sure what we ought to be believing or thinking, let alone doing, in the midst of this journey.
So, what do we do when the truth eludes us? When we can’t understand or make sense of life? When even our faith feels confused. What happens when the truth lets you down?
All The Answers
A lot of well-meaning people who care for us deeply are chasing the truth with us. And, like in all things like this, everyone has an answer. There is a pill we need to take, forgiveness holding us back, doubts in our prayers that need to be fixed, reasons for the waiting. Everyone has an answer. Everyone has a shortcut that sums up the truth nicely.
But it doesn’t ring quite true to us. Plenty of people have kids with unforgiveness plaguing them. Tons of people get pregnant with doubts in their prayers. I’m not trying to avoid the possibility that we need to do things different, but those are questions of character, not really the truth about what is behind our infertility.
At times, it feels like we are surrounded by Job’s friends. All with sensible answers. But not quite the truth.
An Acquired Taste
The truth is that we don’t know. We are confused and hurt and ultimately not in control. There are no quick fixes no easy answers, no instant solutions. The truth is we don’t know the truth.
And that is a hard thing to accept. Because part of seeking and sharing the truth is understanding and acknowledging when you get to the end of what you can comprehend or control. The truth is that truth is a mystery. That is why such a thing as faith exists. We believe there has to be someone (or something) who can seek the truth and share the truth to a degree that supersedes our own capacity.
We are seeking the truth, but not finding it. Or maybe it’s just that we don’t like what we’ve found. We’d rather lasso the truth back into our court. Make this whole thing our fault. Something we can control by our effort or our belief.
The beauty of seeking truth is discovering just how much greater it is than you are. This is also the tragedy of seeking the truth, the source of longing and confusion. You can’t have the one without the other. And, in the end, whatever the truth is, it is worth chasing.