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When Tears Fall

Hi everyone. It’s Hannah here, the “young’un” you see in the photo above and contributing writer here on Dancing Upon Barren Land. I hope this December 1st finds you well. I can’t believe it’s already December! With the new month in mind, if you are located in the Houston area we’d love for you to attend our HOPE infertility support group this coming Thursday, December 6th. We’re doing something special this month and meeting off-campus for a social at Mia’s Table restaurant. I remember last December was my second time attending HOPE and I’m so glad that I came to the social because it was a great opportunity to meet other members, and to chat and get to know every one. I’d encourage you to come. HOPE and each and every member is such a wonderful blessing!

Here are the details for our next HOPE meeting:

Mia’s Restaurant – 3131 Argonne St., Houston, 77098
Time: Thursday, December 6th, 7:00 p.m.
Restaurant conveniently located off of Kirby near Carrabba’s Restaurant. There is a parking garage located across the street. 

I’m here today to share with you the monthly write-up I do for HOPE that tackles the topic that we discussed in our previous meeting. This month, it was the subject of tears.


My gaze was fixed on the shiny, new ring that rested on my excited left ring finger. Aaron and I were sitting in a small restaurant nestled off 49th Street in New York City, two days after he proposed to me on a surprise vacation to The Big Apple five years ago.

As the ring glistened under the dim lights Aaron asked, “Are you sure you’re happy?” I took my eyes off my ring to find a concerned face that met mine and in all seriousness I responded. “Of course I’m happy! Are you crazy?! I’m the happiest I’ve ever been! Why would you ask such a question?”

“Well, because when I asked you to marry me you didn’t cry. Most girls cry when they get proposed to and when you didn’t…well, I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Four happily-married years later I’m still happy and every day I’m privileged to be his wife is the only place I want to be. But four happily-married years later Aaron has learned that I’m sparing with my tears. Not because I find anything wrong with crying, but because that’s just how I am. Characteristically, I’ve never been a “crier.”

Until infertility.

There are so many elements to this monster that have brought me to sobs: hurt, anger, jealousy, loneliness. I haven’t cried more in my entire twenty-six years than I have during our journey through infertility. However, lately I’ve shared with the HOPE group that I’ve become disconnected from my emotions regarding our infertility journey. I guess as a way to guard my heart from any more pain. I’ve avoided the fertility clinic for a year now because I don’t want to put myself through the roller coaster of emotions that come from going through fertility treatments. Expecting disappointment every month is a lot easier than the disappointment from failed fertility treatments that had high expectations. It’s a wall I’ve put up and to be completely honest, because of that wall, tears have not fallen in a while for my empty arms.

I’ll be honest and confess that as I sat down to write this M&M I came up empty. Even though I had attended the meeting and read the lesson, it was as though I tossed my head back, hoping to quench my parched throat with a cool drink of water but all that I was met with was an empty, dusty glass. I had no words because tears was something I hadn’t experienced in a while. Then, an instance during my day reminded me of how much this journey hurt. An incredibly hurting word and experience that was just like Peninnah was to Hannah in the book of Samuel. I was mocked, hurt by words, taunted, and exiled because my fertility is a circumstance that is out of my control. Quickly, my wall came crashing down and the arrows of infertility penetrated my heart. And for the first time in a long time, tears flowed. I laid on the floor of our empty baby’s room and I sobbed.

Through the sobbing I felt a supernatural comfort that helped to mend the hurt that this world had caused. The day before, I was reading through some devotionals and came upon Isaiah 49:15-16. I didn’t think anything of it at the time but tucked it away in my heart.

Never! Can a mother forget her nursing child?
Can she feel no love for the child she has borne?
But even if that were possible,
I would not forget you!

See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands.
Always in my mind is a picture of Jerusalem’s walls in ruins. (NLT)

I’m so thankful to have God’s word hidden in my heart because this verse was at the forefront of my mind as I lay on the carpet, sobbing. There I lay crying before the Lord, the walls of my heart torn down, and I was reminded that my broken walls are always on the mind of my Savior. That he has me written on the palm of his hand through the blood shed through Jesus Christ. It reminded me that I am not forgotten. You, and every tear that you have cried, are not forgotten.

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