Jesus Is in the Waiting

Infertility, Lent, and the God Who Doesn’t Leave

There is a particular kind of ache that comes with secondary infertility. I have shared my story before but in this season of Lent I tend to find myself going back to the time where all I felt I was doing was waiting.

That time in my life was:

It is quiet.

It is confusing.

And sometimes it felt lonelier than primary infertility.

Because I already had a child.

I'd seen two pink lines before.

I knew what my body could do.

And yet… here I was. Waiting again.

For me, this season was not just about wanting another baby. It was about wrestling with expectations. Wrestling with timelines. Wrestling with God.

There’s a song that carried me through much of that time. I would play it in the car, in the kitchen, sometimes with tears streaming down my face. The lyrics reminded me of something I desperately needed to remember:

Jesus is not absent in the waiting.

He is in it.

Psalm 27:14 says, “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.” Waiting in Scripture is never passive. It is an act of courage. And sometimes courage looks like getting up for another day of charting, another day of hoping, another day of surrender.

The Unique Cross of Secondary Infertility

Secondary infertility carries its own cross.

You love the child (or children) you have with your whole heart. You are deeply grateful. And yet there is this persistent longing that doesn’t go away.

And that longing can feel shameful.

You think:

• “I should just be thankful.”

• “Other people don’t even have one.”

• “Why is this so hard for me?”

But gratitude and grief are not opposites. Romans 12:15 tells us to “rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Sometimes we are doing both at the same time.

Lent has taught me something about longing.

Lent is a season of waiting.

Waiting for Easter.

Waiting in the desert.

And infertility feels like a desert.

The desert is dry. It is stripped down. It reveals what is inside of you. And sometimes what is inside isn’t pretty. It can look like jealousy, control, fear, anger at God.

But Scripture shows us over and over again that God does some of His most intimate work in the desert. The Israelites wandered for forty years, and yet God fed them daily with manna (Exodus 16). Jesus Himself was led into the wilderness for forty days before beginning His public ministry (Matthew 4:1–2).

The desert is not abandonment. It is formation.

The Illusion of Control

As a FertilityCare Practitioner trained in the Creighton Model FertilityCare System, I understand the beauty of cycle charting.

Charting is empowering.

It gives language to your body.

It reveals patterns.

It uncovers underlying issues.

It allows you to work with physicians trained in NaProTechnology to treat root causes rather than mask symptoms.

And yet…

Even with perfectly charted cycles.

Even with progesterone support.

Even with carefully timed days.

There is still waiting.

Charting, seeing medical treatment and using a FertilityCare method gives clarity.

But it does not give control over outcomes.

Proverbs 16:9 says, “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

I could plan everything. I could time everything. I could advocate for every test. But I could not create life on my own.

That realization was both humbling and holy.

Lent has a way of stripping away illusions. It asks us to surrender the very things we cling to for security.

For me, in my season of infertility, it was control over my timeline.

Jesus in the Hidden Years

When I would sit with the ache of another negative test, I started thinking about something we rarely talk about:

Jesus spent thirty years in hiddenness.

Thirty years.

Before miracles.

Before public ministry.

Before resurrection.

Hidden years are not wasted years.

Secondary infertility can feel like your life is on pause. Like everyone else is moving forward while you are stuck in place.

But what if this waiting is not wasted?

Isaiah 43:19 says, “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” Sometimes what God is doing is invisible to everyone else, even to us.

In my own journey, the waiting exposed places in my heart I didn’t know needed healing:

• My identity wrapped up in motherhood.

• My fear of being “behind.”

• My subtle belief that if I did everything “right,” God would reward me.

Psalm 56:8 reminds us, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle.” Not one tear in this process is wasted.

The Garden Before the Cross

One of the most powerful Lenten images for me is Agony in the Garden.

Jesus, sweating blood.

Asking for the cup to pass.

And still saying, “Not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)

There were months when that prayer was the only one I could pray.

Not my will.

But Yours.

That prayer is not passive.

It is not giving up.

It is surrender.

Hannah’s prayer in 1 Samuel 1:10 says, “She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly.”

Scripture does not shy away from showing us her anguish. God does not ask us to pretend infertility doesn’t hurt.

In using the Creighton Model FertilityCare System and teaching it, it has taught me how to cooperate with my body, so I can better understand and respect it, and to seek treatment when something is wrong.

It affirms that our fertility is not a disease to suppress but a gift to steward.

But stewardship still includes surrender.

We do our part.

We seek truth.

We pursue healing.

And then we entrust the outcome to God.

Gratitude and Grief Can Coexist

One of the lies secondary infertility whispers is:

“You don’t get to grieve.”

But Scripture gives us permission. Ecclesiastes 3:4 tells us there is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh.” Sometimes those seasons overlap. And I learned,

I could adore the children I have and still mourn the babies I hadn't conceived.

I thanked God for His blessings and still found myself crying in the shower.

Lent makes space for that tension.

It is a season where the Church holds both:

• Sorrow for sin.

• Hope for redemption.

Infertility is a kind of Good Friday. It hurts. It exposes vulnerability. It humbles us.

But Good Friday is not the end of the story.

Romans 8:24–25 reminds us, “In hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope… But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

FertilityCare as a Lenten Discipline

In an unexpected way, charting my cycles during this season became a Lenten discipline.

Every day I observed.

Every day I recorded.

Every day I was reminded that my body was still speaking, even if it wasn’t conceiving.

Charting invited me into attentiveness.

Instead of obsessing over ovulation, I began offering it.

Instead of demanding answers, I began asking for trust.

James 1:4 says, “Let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” Waiting forms something in us.

Using and specific method to track everything did not remove the waiting, but it anchored me in truth. It reminded me that my body was not broken beyond hope. It gave physicians real data to work with. It allowed us to address underlying hormonal issues instead of masking them.

And in the midst of that practical pursuit of healing, Jesus met me.

Not just at the end result.

But in the middle.

The God Who Enters the Desert

Lent ultimately points us to this truth:

God does not avoid deserts.

He enters them.

Jesus fasted in the wilderness.

He prayed in the garden.

He endured the Cross.

Hebrews 13:5 promises, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

If you are in the waiting, especially the complicated waiting of secondary infertility, you are not abandoned.

You are not forgotten.

You are not ungrateful.

You are not weak.

You are carrying a cross that only God fully sees.

And the same Jesus who waited thirty hidden years…

who surrendered in the garden…

who transformed Good Friday into Easter…

He is with you now.

Not rushing you.

Not shaming you.

Not ignoring you.

With you.

And because of the Resurrection, waiting is never the end of the story.

Here is a link to the song that really got me through this hard season. Please know I pray for all those who are sufferening with infertility or secondary infertility, each and everyday. I am especially carrying you in this season of Lent. Do not lose hope and take courage in your waiting.

-Daria