Listening to the Words: Laura Bush and Carly Rae Jepsen

If you've ever read an infertility blog, you are most likely familiar with the following quote from Laura Bush:

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

If you ever listened to the radio in 2012, you are certainly familiar with the song "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen.

I realized this week when I heard "Call Me Maybe" for the millionth time that she highlights in her lyrics the same problem that Mrs. Bush points out so eloquently. This is incredibly silly, but stick with me here. She sings, "Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, you should know that I missed you so, so bad." That phrasing bothers me everytime I hear it, because before someone came into your life, how could you "miss" them? You didn't know them yet!

For the first time, though, it struck me that Carly Rae is just a victim of the same problem that Laura Bush describes. There's no word that works properly in that sentence, and "missing" someone is as close as it gets.

Thanks, pop radio, for that insight into infertility and language. I shall now sing "Call Me Maybe" in my car with slightly less shame and irritation. :)

-January

Be Not Afraid, part 2

I mentioned in my last post that I really connected with the song Be Not Afraid for the first time ever at Mass on Father's Day. I've always loved the song, but I never felt like it applied to me.

Until now.

"You shall cross the barren desert, but you shall not die of thirst."

Barren desert? Yep, that is exactly where I am. In a desert of barrenness. Now, I will admit that I have become hypersensitive to fertility-related language over the last year. But words are important. We use particular words for particular reasons. It's not just any old desert, a mostly dry kinda place; it's a barren desert. The song which I've sung so many times got my full attention because of that one little word: barren. I was tuned in. Good thing too, because the second half of that sentence is a promise.

You shall not die of thirst. He isn't going to let that happen. I am making my way through the desert, and it is everything horrible about being a desert, but I shall not die of thirst. This isn't going to kill me. Being infertile, being barren is not going to kill me. I will thirst powerfully, but God promises that this thirst won't kill me. He will bring me through, not matter what happens, no matter whether we leave the desert in this lifetime.

I hope you find that thought comforting, because it has in fact been comforting me. I have a discomfitting story to share, but then I'll come back to this metaphor, ok? Ok.

Just as my pregdar tells me when someone might be expecting, apparently it also helps me figure out who is experiencing fertility issues around me. An acquaintance of mine from a long time ago had some posts on facebook that made me suspicious that she was having some trouble having a baby. So, I wrote her a message and asked if everything was ok. She confirmed my suspicion that she has infertility, but told me something so shocking. Her husband left her after three years of marriage, because she can't have children.

Not cool, dude, not cool.

Now, I am not close with this woman, and who knows what the other factors might have been, but wow, I had never really considered before what it would be like if Husband were so anxious to have children that he'd leave me in order to do it. He has assured me that he married me because he loved me, and that he won't leave me even if my baby-making potential remains very low. Whew! I would just ask that you say a quick prayer for this young woman, as she is preparing to marry someone new and see if they can figure out the fertility puzzles in their lives.

How does this circle back around to the song?

Well, at Mass this past Sunday, the psalm we sang was simple and lovely: I will praise you Lord for I am wonderfully made.

How hard it is to remember that sometimes on this journey through the barren desert! I am wonderfully made. I'm not a mistake. My health issues do not define me in God's eyes. I may be IN a barren desert, but I myself am NOT a barren desert. I am wonderfully made. That applies to all of us, no matter what we have "wrong" with us physically or mentally or emotionally. People on earth may not recognize it, spouses who have promised to care for us in sickness and in health may not keep their promises, but we are WONDERFULLY made.

-January

P.S. You have probably noticed that I can quote church music like crazy, but the Bible or Catechism, not so much. What can I say? I'm a vocalist! And those who sing pray twice, right? Right?!