What are you longing for?

Motherhood, infertility, and learning to name our needs

[Content Warning: infertility and motherhood]

I’m learning to tell the truth in my writing.

It’s not that I was lying before. It’s just that as a private person who prefers to curate the image I share with the world, most bits of what I write here on Substack and via my Instagram have often passed through layers and layers of thought, reflection, talking with people in my real life, more reflection, and then—finally, a version of what’s happening in my inner world shows up here.

My hope is always that whatever I offer via these virtual pages meets you with some degree of connection and grace. My hope is for you to be inspired to slow down enough to capture the magic and mystery of your own life.

But lately, my lived experience—coupled with how cathartic the writing process is, has been inviting me to get more honest. To tell the truth more quickly. To let the vulnerable, messy pieces of my story show up on the page, before being contemplated to perfection.

Motherhood has been on my mind lately.

To a frustrating and nearly debilitating degree. Even now, a sadness rises in my spirit as I consider how ill-equipped I feel to speak plainly on this topic.

I guess I’m moving through a season of infertility. Which is a label I’ve avoided like the plague. I lead what I know to be a tremendously fertile life¹. I create, nurture, and cultivate goodness in as many ways and places as God and my body will allow. So to be labeled “infertile” does not sit well with me. It doesn’t even sound true.

And yet, biological motherhood has not dawned this door step. As such, I’ve been struggling to decide what I think and how I feel about it all.

There are days when I couldn’t care less. I love my life. I love its spaciousness and flexibility. I’m deeply content to spend every evening for the next fifty years or so with this man I absolutely adore.

But there are other days on which I feel a strange mix of longing and grief.

This is where things get tricky though. I’m not sure if I’m longing for an actual baby, i.e. to grow a human in my body and commit to their flourishing for the rest of our lives, or if I’m longing for the status that being a “mother” affords me.

I’ve long believed motherhood to be one of the most challenging and perhaps rewarding experiences on earth. But on a deeper level, when I consider the prospect of motherhood as it relates to my vocation, I fear that no one will take me seriously as a thinker, leader, or spiritual guide if I’m not also a biological mother. I’ve believed that to birth children is the badge I need to be taken seriously as a woman in the world. I didn’t know I believed this until recently. So while I’ve been grieving my seeming inability to conceive, perhaps, I’ve actually been grieving the honor and respect conferred upon those who choose to nurture children with their life.

I suppose we all have the experience of wanting something because we think that getting it will give us something else we need even more.

We want the job because we need security.

We want the spouse because we need connection.

We want the baby because we need to know our work in the world matters.

Longings, i.e. what we want, are not always what they seem.

Much like a craving for steak may actually be speaking to the body’s requirement for iron, our longings are only the beginning of uncovering what we need most.

While I’d like to believe that creating a more beautiful way in the world is all about ease, comfort, and that which makes for joy, here’s what I’m finding to be true:

a more beautiful way is paved each and every time we choose to sit with the painful longings of our life, learning from them about who we really are, what we really value, and what we need to be well and whole in world.

While the struggle with baby stuff is present on the surface of my life, what’s happening underneath is actually a struggle with identity, belonging, and questions about whether or not my voice matters.

Longings are not always what they seem.

What are you longing for? What needs are you hoping to fill?

And let me be clear here: there is no shame in our neediness. To need is to be human. Our needs are invitations to connect, to heal, to affirm, to grow, and more. I’m here for being honest about our needs! Because as we’re honest about what we need, and as we find healthy ways to get those needs met, we're able to move through the world with so much more spaciousness and resilience.

As I move through this season of grappling with motherhood, infertility, and what it means to lead a good and fulfilling life, I’m finding my way by sharing more transparently about my process. I hope I don’t overshare, but again, as a private person, even a little bit of vulnerability often feels like I’m sharing too much. So yes, I am truly finding my way one step at a time.

It also feels important to note that motherhood is a complex and tender journey for most of us. I cannot imagine the number and layers of stories represented here. I won’t even try to. If you feel unseen or misunderstood by anything I’ve offered, know that my story is my own. It is not universal or all inclusive. It is simply mine. It may not be for you, and that’s okay.

If you too are struggling to find your way through longing for motherhood, I see you. Gosh, it’s so difficult. It’s complicated. It’s painful. It’s hard work. I see you.

Regardless of where you land in all of this, I hope you sense an invitation to explore how your longings might be speaking to your needs. And my prayer is that you’re able to find whatever it is you need most in this season.

Be well, Beloveds.

Bethaney

1. Blessings to my dear friend, Laura, whose wisdom gave rise to this language for me.