Tag Archives: Health Issues

NFP Saved My Health—Naturally!

When only seventeen, I experienced my period every other week. My greatly concerned mother took me to see her gynecologist who promptly prescribed the birth control pill. This, the doctor did, though she performed no tests to discover why the frequent menses.

Uninformed about the dangers of hormonal contraception, and desperate for a relief, I happily accepted the medication. About a year later, however, I learned about the negative effects of hormonal contraception. I decided it was not good for me. Returning to the doctor, I asked for an alternative treatment. I was told that there was nothing that could be done for me.

Throughout my college years, I resigned myself to a fate of irregular and painful menstrual cycles. During this time, I had also suffered a number of ovarian cyst ruptures. Unfortunately, I did not dig into the causes of my reproductive health problems until later in marriage preparation when I first started tracking my menstrual cycles through Natural Family Planning (NFP). I worried that my condition would make NFP difficult to practice. And, in fact after I married, the first few months were difficult. My charts were confusing. My husband and I spent hours studying the charts trying to figure out what was going on. I became convinced that something was happening. The clear data empowered me. Not only did I know that there was something wrong, but I knew I could prove it!

After a few months of tracking my cycle, I went to see an NFP trained gynecologist. The doctor reviewed my charts, treated them as medical records, and ordered a number of tests to check my hormone levels. Many medical appointments, charts, and blood draws later, the causes were discovered.

I was diagnosed with both Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (an autoimmune condition). Though my irregular cycles and difficulty charting seemed like a confusing burden at first, they ended up being my saving grace. It was only through NFP that I was able to recognize the physical signs telling me that something was wrong. If I had not charted, I would not have had the necessary medical data to have my PCOS or Hashimoto’s diagnosed. These conditions would have remained unchecked and untreated—thereby doing further damage to my health and life.

While getting the right diagnosis was just the beginning of a lifelong journey with these conditions, I am grateful for the role NFP played. This journey led me to a compassionate and skilled Catholic NaturalProcreativeTechnology™ (NaPro) physician, who walked with me on a journey of infertility caused by my PCOS. When first diagnosed with PCOS I was told by an endocrinologist that conception would be unlikely. If I had not found a NaPro physician who took my NFP charts seriously, offering appropriate and individual treatment, I would not also be able to say that my husband and I conceived our first child—an amazing gift made possible by God’s grace and NFP charting, naturally!

About the Author
Brooke Paris Foley and her husband, Tim, live in Alexandria, Virginia. They are the proud and blessed parents of a baby due in September 2019, who they welcome as a gift from God. Brooke is a Bioethics teacher, a career through which she passionately tries to empower women in their reproductive health journey by teaching them about the medical and moral benefits of Natural Family Planning.

Brooke Paris Foley. This article is printed with the permission of the author. You have her permission to reproduce it in whole or in part, in print and/or electronically, with the following statement: Brooke Paris Foley, “NFP Saved My Health—Naturally!” Used with permission.

Death of a Child

Of all the pains that life can hand us, arguably the most searing is the death of a child. A parent’s world irrevocably and horrifically changes forever, no matter what the circumstances or the age of the child.

In what seems to be a manner contrary to the natural order, parents not only have a physical and emotional part of themselves ripped away, but also have the loss of all of the hopes, dreams, and aspirations they had so completely invested in their child.

With this loss, a parent’s world radically and dramatically changes forever. Most friends, relatives, and acquaintances do not know how to approach or console for fear of offending or upsetting the parent. Many parents say they begin to feel that they are treated as if they have a contagious disease. In an attempt to seem normal, or “over it,” emotions are suppressed and the parent begins to withdraw or become distant. This reaction, however, compounds the all-encompassing feeling of being totally alone.

Many well-intentioned attempts have been made to assist parents in recovering emotionally from their loss, including psychotherapy and various support groups. However, in an attempt to be all inclusive and “politically correct,” the spiritual perspective of the grieving process—or even the existence of God—is usually lacking (or actively avoided) in many of these approaches.

It was the personal experience of my own family and this deep need for spirituality that led to what is now known as the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents.

Thanksgiving evening of 2002, a healthy, ambitious and successful young US Air Force Captain, Paul Monaghan, took his own life, without any explanation or warning signs. As unexpected as a lightning strike on a clear blue day, Paul’s death shattered our idyllic, comfortable family life forever.

For five years afterwards, when she wasn’t numb, my wife, Diane, frantically searched. Searched for answers from her son’s wife on what actually happened. Searched for answers from his friends on what he was like leading up to his death. Searched for answers from Air Force investigators, who took an entire year to file their death report. Searched for answers not so much to the question of “why” as to “how”. How could her beautiful son do this to himself? How could he do this to the family he loved so much? She frantically searched for understanding, read an entire library of books on the death of a child and suicide, went to psychiatrists, psychologists, and psychotherapists, joined support groups and journaled. Nothing helped at all.

During these years, she prayed for two things: the strength to get out of bed in the morning and an understanding of how she could make some good come from such a horrific tragedy, but her prayers seemingly went unanswered. She felt God was not listening. During this time, she says, she received some strength from her faith, but not much comfort.

Then one day, everything changed. Undoubtedly, it was the Holy Spirit that prompted her to attend a totally unrelated program that eventually led to a deep relationship with a compassionate religious sister, who was a Spiritual Director. They met at St. Anthony Shrine, a Holy Name Province Franciscan community in Boston, MA. Slowly, after five years, her numbness began to subside.

Over and over again, she talked with her Spiritual Director about the promise of eternal life…the fact that life has changed for Paul, not ended. The fact that she would indeed see him again. For the first time since 2002 Diane, in the rich teachings of the Catholic Church, finally found peace, comfort, and hope.

All this while, I was on a different journey. I put my feelings and emotions in a tightly wrapped box deep within me, while pretending to the entire world that nothing was wrong and that I was fine.

It is indeed fortunate that my wife and I had the wisdom to grant each other the ability to grieve in our own ways and so avoid what many married grieving parents experience – a good marriage becoming fragile or totally falling apart because of resentment or misunderstanding of the ways in which each other are grieving.

Eventually Diane made the life-changing decision to leave her position as vice president of a local college and go to work raising money for the Shrine in Boston. Growing more deeply in her spirituality, she eventually felt called to ask the Guardian of St Anthony Shrine if he would support a ministry to spiritually serve other deeply wounded grieving parents. She believed that focusing on the spirituality of the grieving process could help many other parents as much as it helped her. He agreed, and together they decided to offer a spiritual retreat for parents whose children had died. They opened it to any parent whose child of any age had died by any cause—no matter how long ago, and no matter how close the parent did or did not feel to God.

And so, with nothing more than trust that the Holy Spirit would guide their efforts, Diane and the Franciscan friars of St Anthony Shrine held their first retreat in March of 2009. I initially wanted no part of this endeavor, reasoning that real men bear up no matter what, fearing any display of any weakness or helplessness. Nevertheless, I ultimately went to the retreat to support Diane. There is no doubt in my mind that during that weekend I, too, was showered with the gifts the Holy Spirit so generously offered that day.

Fr. David Convertino, OFM, then Guardian, described that initial retreat, “This was one of the most grace-filled experiences that I have had during my entire life as a priest and as a friar.”

From this uncertain beginning, the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents was born. It now offers One-Hour, One-Day, and Weekend Spiritual Retreats wherever it is called to do so.

The ministry does not provide therapy or function as a support group. In fact, parents are told that they will not be asked to stand up and relate their stories, or even to speak at all, unless they choose to do so. Rather, the ministry seeks to create a safe and sacred space for parents to “undress their hearts” before God and others who know and feel their pain—and to focus on the tenets of our Catholic faith and the certainty of the Communion of Saints now and in the future. Truly it is new evangelization in action.

Since its inception, this ministry has helped hundreds of parents initiate or reinvigorate their relationship with God—and with their deceased children. Over the past eight years it has evolved into a ministry for grieving parents offered by grieving parents. Very much parent-led, it is a ministry requiring very little parish or diocesan time or money. Parents struggle through and share the horrendous pain of their own journeys with each other, while inviting Jesus to join and comfort them, just as he comforted his grieving disciples on the road to Emmaus.

To the best of our knowledge, there is no other similar type of ongoing ministry focused on the spirituality of the parent’s grieving process anywhere in the United States. Since its inception, the ministry has served hundreds of parents from sixteen states, as well as Canada.

While its spiritual home continues to be St. Anthony Shrine in Boston, the ministry, as a 501(c) (3) non-profit, now partners in ministry with the Archdiocese of Boston, the Diocese of Wheeling-Charleston WV, and parishes in RI and CT as part of its mission to assist other parents and dioceses in introducing and maintaining this powerful ministry.

After one or more initial retreats offered in collaboration with our Boston-based retreat team, typically local parents are called by the Holy Spirit to carry the ministry forward in their own areas. In providing witness through personal testimony to other parents, many have found that “It is in consoling that we are consoled.”

Introducing the ministry in your area at little or no cost is relatively easy. Because we have been blessed with generous donations and several grant awards, we are able to come to you, wherever you are, bringing many years of experience and well-developed templates for offering your Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents spiritual retreats. Please call us at 617-542-8057 for more information or email diane@emfgp.org.

About the author
Charley Monaghan is a co-founder of the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents, which serves the spiritual needs of parents whose children of any age have died by any cause, no matter how long ago. The ministry is based in Boston, MA.

Related articles:

Mary Anne Russo, “A Special Family: Shaped by Down Syndrome, Grief and Grace”
Elena Kilner, “A Lesson in Love from our Dying Son”

Spiritual Help for Grieving Parents

With this loss, a parent’s world radically and dramatically changes forever. Most friends, relatives, and acquaintances do not know how to approach or console them for fear of offending or upsetting the parent. Many parents say they begin to feel that they are treated as if they have a contagious disease. In an attempt to seem normal, or “over it,” emotions are suppressed and the parent begins to withdraw or become distant. This reaction, however, compounds the all-encompassing feeling of being totally alone.

Many well-intentioned attempts have been made to assist parents in recovering emotionally from their loss, including psychotherapy and various support groups. However, in an attempt to be all-inclusive and “politically correct,” the spiritual perspective of the grieving process—or even the existence of God—is usually lacking (or actively avoided) in many of these approaches.

It was the personal experience of my own family and this deep need for spirituality that led to what is now known as the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents.

On Thanksgiving evening of 2002, a healthy, ambitious, and successful young US Air Force Captain, Paul Monaghan, took his own life, without any explanation or warning signs. As unexpected as a lightning strike on a clear blue day, Paul’s death shattered our idyllic, comfortable family life forever.

For five years afterward, when she wasn’t numb, my wife, Diane, frantically searched. Searched for answers from her son’s wife on what actually happened. Searched for answers from his friends on what he was like leading up to his death. Searched for answers from Air Force investigators, who took an entire year to file their death report. Searched for answers not so much to the question of “why” as to “how”. How could her beautiful son do this to himself? How could he do this to the family he loved so much? She frantically searched for understanding, read an entire library of books on the death of a child and suicide, went to psychiatrists, psychologists, and psychotherapists, joined support groups, and journaled. Nothing helped at all.

All this while, I was on a different journey. I put my feelings and emotions in a tightly wrapped box deep within me, while pretending to the entire world that nothing was wrong and that I was fine.

Eventually, Diane made the life-changing decision to leave her position as vice president of a local college and go to work raising money for the Shrine in Boston. Growing more deeply in her spirituality, she eventually felt called to ask the Guardian of St Anthony Shrine if he would support a ministry to spiritually serve other deeply wounded grieving parents. She believed that focusing on the spirituality of the grieving process could help many other parents as much as it helped her. He agreed, and together they decided to offer a spiritual retreat for parents whose children had died. They opened it to any parent whose child of any age had died by any cause—no matter how long ago, and no matter how close the parent did or did not feel to God.

And so, with nothing more than trust that the Holy Spirit would guide their efforts, Diane and the Franciscan friars of St Anthony Shrine held their first retreat in March of 2009. I initially wanted no part of this endeavor, reasoning that real men bear up no matter what, fearing any display of weakness or helplessness. Nevertheless, I ultimately went to the retreat to support Diane. There is no doubt in my mind that during that weekend I, too, was showered with the gifts the Holy Spirit so generously offered that day.

Fr. David Convertino, OFM, then Guardian, described that initial retreat, “This was one of the most grace-filled experiences that I have had during my entire life as a priest and as a friar.”

From this uncertain beginning, the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents was born. It now offers One-Hour, One-Day, and Weekend Spiritual Retreats wherever it is called to do so.

The ministry does not provide therapy or function as a support group. In fact, parents are told that they will not be asked to stand up and relate their stories, or even to speak at all unless they choose to do so. Rather, the ministry seeks to create a safe and sacred space for parents to “undress their hearts” before God and others who know and feel their pain—and to focus on the tenets of our Catholic faith and the certainty of the Communion of Saints now and in the future. Truly it is new evangelization in action.

Since its inception, this ministry has helped hundreds of parents initiate or reinvigorate their relationship with God—and with their deceased children. Over the past eight years, it has evolved into a ministry for grieving parents offered by grieving parents. Very much parent-led, it is a ministry requiring very little parish or diocesan time or money. Parents struggle through and share the horrendous pain of their own journeys with each other, while inviting Jesus to join and comfort them, just as he comforted his grieving disciples on the road to Emmaus.

Related Articles
“A Lesson in Love From Our Dying Son” by Elena Kilner

A Special Family: Shaped by Down Syndrome, Grief and Grace

By the time our son Stephen turned seven, we were hoping to adopt another child. To our three birth children, Guy (8), Stephen (7), and Matthew (5), we had already added David (3) and Danny, whose Down syndrome no longer seemed remarkable. He had passed the ripe old age of one and, although he was developing more slowly than our four older boys, he was making strides at his own pace. Other than a small PDA (a patent ductus arteriosusa or small hole in his heart) and the croup which scared us all half to death, he was in good shape physically. (The hole eventually closed, and he outgrew the croup, thank God!) Except for the time I fed him too many carrots and turned his skin orange, we were doing a pretty good job of parenting. Danny had grown into being just another member of the family, and we felt that we could care for one more baby with special needs. Down syndrome did not seem like a disability. It was a challenge which early intervention services helped us to meet.

The following spring, we met John Francis in The New York Foundling Hospital. He was four months old. The first time I held him, he looked up at me and smiled. (I refuse to believe it was gas!) I was a sucker for cute babies, and his little face won me over. Like Danny, John Francis had a small PDA. This was not an issue, but the colostomy bag attached to his little abdomen did present some problems. I had to learn to care for it before The Foundling would release him to us, and that made me nervous. But he had that adorable little smile and I soon managed to clean out his bag, “like a pro,” one of the nurses said, as though his guardian angel was guiding my hands. Looking back now, I think perhaps he was!

Our first night at home, I had a slippery little mess on my unskilled hands. I think that was the only time I wondered about the wisdom of our decision! My sister, who was present for my struggles and frustrations, suggested that I use a meat baster to flush out his little bag. That solved my biggest problem and I continued to use that baster until his colostomy was reversed by the time he was two.

The other boys did not like the idea of the colostomy bag, although it was covered up and soon became a non-issue. They were also against us naming the baby “Francis.” They thought the kids in the neighborhood would make fun of him. I had to laugh at that. Here was this little Chinese baby with Down syndrome and a colostomy bag and they were worried about kids making fun of his name! But we compromised on that, and named him John Francis instead. To my knowledge no one has ever made fun of him or of his name!

After his slippery beginning, John Francis found himself the littlest child in a busy household. We had decided, even before adopting Danny, that our family life would not change because of the addition of children with special needs. We went to Church, took them all to McDonald’s, went shopping and on vacation. Other than toting more luggage, along with the usual baby paraphernalia plus that necessary baster, we managed. My husband took the older boys to their sporting practices and events. I stayed home with the little ones, and joined him when I could. We were a typical family, busy in the chaos of everyday life.

All of the boys got along, but Stephen took a special interest in John Francis. They were “roomies” and Stephen seemed happiest when he was holding the baby in the crook of his arm. I can still see the look of pure joy on his face as he went about the house toting John Francis with him. They went to bed and crib, as usual, on the night of February 12, 1990, but Stephen came out of his room about 10 p.m. in distress. He had a terrible headache and could not sleep. I gave him some pain reliever and put him back to bed. I could soon see that this was not an ordinary headache. We called for an ambulance and, by 3 a.m. the following morning, Stephen was dead. His undetected brain aneurism had burst suddenly, without any warning. That is what made us a “special family”: grief, not Down syndrome.

A family does not get over the death of a child. As time went on, we began to function again, but it was very difficult. The older boys mourned Stephen quietly, and my husband, Tony, sank into a deep depression. The laundry did not stop, the house did not stay clean, and the meals did not cook themselves. I managed to get through some very difficult days bearing the brunt of a loss which nearly paralyzed us all. Losing Stephen was the greatest challenge of our lives.

I knew that, in order for me to heal, I had to give myself over to something greater than my loss. It seems incredible to me now that my husband, Tony, went along with my desire to find another baby, but he did. We began to actively pursue another adoption and were led back to The New York Foundling Hospital the following year.

A baby girl with Down syndrome had been born in January of 1991. She had a large hole in her heart and lay, we were told, like a little blue doll. The agency did not want us to meet her until after her surgery. They were afraid she might not survive, and did not want us to face what would be another devastating loss. A lot of prayers were sent up to heaven during the next few months! After the surgery, we were finally called in to meet her.

Now this little bundle was a challenge of a different sort! She had not developed the ability to suck and swallow. On the positive side, her heart had healed well and her prognosis was good. I faced the daunting task of putting a tube down her nose into her tummy four times a day so that she would be able to get the nourishment she needed to thrive. I was to do that after I coaxed her to drink from a bottle, something she never quite mastered. I did not know if I was up to this task, this risk of giving our hearts to another child, at all.

After we met Maria Grace, I went to church. By then Stephen had been gone a year and a half. While sitting in the back of my parish church, I looked up at the altar, praying for guidance. There, my soul very clearly saw Stephen, holding a little baby out to me in his outstretched arms. It was as if he were offering me the gift of life. How could I reject it?

Again, angel hands seemed to guide my own as I learned to feed Maria Grace. We brought her home by the end of that week, another China doll, when she was seven months old and weighed less than eleven pounds. Matthew, our youngest birth son, had taken over Stephen’s place as “roomie” and chief holder of John Francis. I was able to devote my time to the baby’s care

Our children are now grown. Our oldest son, Guy, works in a school with a boy who has Autism. He hopes to teach full time in September. Matthew worked in a Day Program with adults with special needs for three years and is looking forward to teaching Social Studies in the fall. David was a “Buddy” with United Cerebral Palsy and also “buddied” while he served in the army. He will graduate from college this May. Danny and John Francis both go to work daily in Hub Sites, gathering places from which adults with special needs go out to serve as volunteers in the community. Maria Grace also volunteers at a Hub Site. This only daughter of mine has grown into a confident 23-year-old who has the ability to keep us all in our places. Even the dogs! Down syndrome has not been a disability for us. It has been, instead, the lens through which we, my husband and I and all of our children, have learned to love each other. You can see our story on YouTube at “What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Baby with Down Syndrome”. I hope that the smiling faces it contains suggest that Down syndrome is a gift, like life itself.

How has it been raising a family in which three members have Down syndrome? It has been a gift to treasure – and to share!

Hope for Married Couples Who Want to Have a Child

Alone in the bathroom, staring blankly at the negative test, you tearfully ask yourself, “Why am I not pregnant yet?” Later, you may find yourself talking to your doctor about a “take-home baby” and come face to face with the costly, invasive and sometimes morally questionable reality of fertility treatments. You wonder, “Is there any hope for me?” As a Catholic gynecologist working with a team of pro-life physicians, I want to tell you, there is hope.

You may have tried to conceive for a year, the minimal duration to be considered infertile. However, you are a person, not a statistic. Your desire to be pregnant is real and is screaming, “Now!” As a physician, I agree. Now is the time to find out why you are not conceiving. You are not alone, and there is help.

More and more couples find themselves childless after “trying” for a period of time. After being married for six years, Jen and Bob were still childless. Sadly, Jen was diagnosed with Chlamydia as a younger woman, and she always thought that it might prevent her from having children. Although she had quit smoking and improved her nutrition to optimize her fertility, she also sought medical help due to worsening pain at the time of her periods. Through laparoscopy, we found mild adhesions from her Chlamydia infection long ago, and many manifestations of endometriosis. The problems corrected, six months later Jen came into our office carrying her positive pregnancy test, with a smile and a tear of joy after many years of trying to conceive.

Diagnosed with irregular cycles since she was a teenager, Hillary knew she had a hormonal imbalance. Starting abruptly after college, Hillary gained weight, became constipated, noticed the drying of her skin and began to feel cold all the time. She and her husband of one year, LeVar, came into the office to talk—not only about their desire to have a child but more importantly about the riddle of her hormonal health. A good health history and physical exam complemented the Natural Family Planning (NFP) charts Hillary had done for the last six months. Blood tests done on particular cycle days and the finding of low temperatures during the first half of her cycle, led to a diagnosis of polycystic ovaries. Hillary also had low thyroid function. Once her thyroid function was regulated and her insulin resistance addressed, Hillary began to have more regular cycles, and she showed signs of increasing fertility. Recognizing her suboptimal ovulation, she was given medications to help her ovulate more efficiently. After several months, Hillary walked into our office with that same smile Jen had shown us. She said she appreciated both the help with conceiving and the attention to her underlying hormonal problems.

But what happens when no underlying problems are found? That is the story of Miriam and Cole. In their early thirties and after being married two years, they came to the office to see why they were not yet pregnant. Both worked in high-stress jobs, and time was at a premium. Though meticulous and thorough, their history and physicals didn’t reveal the “why” behind their infertility. Laboratory tests showed no chronic diseases. Cole was given a collecting kit, enabling us to test a semen sample after marital intercourse and determine that it was normal. Dye studies and ultrasound tests showed that Miriam had a normal womb and Fallopian tubes indicating no physical blockage. Sequential hormonal testing throughout Miriam’s cycle indicated healthy female hormones in the right ratios, peaking and valleying at the correct times. Her laparoscopy showed neither endometriosis nor adhesions. Multiple cycles of attempting to tweak her ovulation with medications did not produce a pregnancy.

Stressed beyond their tolerance and depressed at not yet being parents, Miriam and her husband wanted a second opinion from a local, highly successful clinic specializing in in vitro fertilization (IVF). That procedure involves removing mature eggs from the mother’s ovaries, fertilizing them in a glass dish (in vitro is Latin for “in glass”), and then inserting the resulting embryonic children into the mother’s womb in the hope that one (but not multiple children) will implant and develop normally. As Christian physicians, we had to counsel them: “The central question you and your husband must answer before you go is this: Are the embryos made at the clinic your children or your property? If they are children, which your faith says they are, you ought not to experiment on or freeze them, or miscarry three to get one “take-home baby.”¹ We lost contact, but several years later, Miriam and Cole were back in the office with two children, Jason and Jackie. Both were adopted. Smiles and tears were shared along with hugs. Miriam said they never found out why they could not conceive, but it no longer mattered. They were a family, and they had peace: “Adoption grew on Cole and me. It became a real option for us.” At a defining moment, her faith helped her see the humanity of any embryonic children she may help produce and the dangers to which she’d be exposing them through IVF. And she was thankful for the guidance.

Restorative, holistic, integrative, respectful, and effective—these words describe how our faith wants us to approach the misery, agony and challenge of infertility. There are scientifically sound, as well as surgically and medically effective ways to treat the causes of infertility in a thoroughly compassionate manner. There are doctors across the nation who have learned the art and science of looking into the causes of infertility and, as appropriate, addressing a couple’s condition medically, surgically, psychologically, and spiritually.

Many successful options exist for Christians who want a morally sound way to treat infertility, and who need help combating the sadness, frustration, and even anger that can come from the inability to “have a child.” We all need to discern the course God has for us—physicians as well as couples. Sound science based on the dignity of the human person is available to help couples to cooperate with our Heavenly Father and conceive a child. Some may be called to adopt a child whom God has sent via another set of birth parents. Or perhaps some couples have a unique vocation that does not involve raising children. It is our challenge as believers of the living God to know that he loves all of us profoundly and that he knows us better than we know ourselves. When we align our will with his will, and respect his great gift of human life, there is hope for us all!

About the author
John T. Bruchalski, MD, FACOG (Fellow, American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology), a practicing obstetrician- gynecologist, is chairman of Divine Mercy Care and founder of the Tepeyac Family Center in Fairfax, Virginia.

Notes

¹ IVF raises many grave moral issues. These are explained in the USCCB statement Life-Giving Love in an Age of Technology (Washington, DC: USCCB, 2009).

A Lesson In Love From Our Dying Son

In the fall of 2011, my husband Patrick and I had been married for eight years and our family was rapidly growing. Our oldest child had just turned six and we were expecting our fifth child in December. John Paul was born on December 6, 2011. We knew immediately that something was very wrong. The delivery itself was traumatic, during which his arm was broken. When he was finally delivered, he didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t breathe. He was barely moving. He was whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit. In the days and weeks that followed, we gradually started to understand the severity of John Paul’s condition. When he was 5 weeks old, he was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA). We learned that SMA was a genetic, progressive, and terminal neuromuscular disorder. Gradually, every muscle in John Paul’s body would weaken and eventually waste away. Usually, death is caused by complications from a common cold because of respiratory weakness. You can imagine how we felt being told that our son would die from complications of a common cold, knowing that we had four children at home, several of whom were not yet adept at covering their mouths and noses when they sneezed or coughed.

Of course, Pat and I were devastated. We were trying to wrap our heads and hearts around the reality that confronted us. At the same time, we were also quickly falling desperately in love with our son. We saw his first smiles and he could even hold my finger in his hand. During our time in the NICU, it was a rollercoaster of singing lullabies and whispering sweet nothings one minute and the next using emergency procedures to bring his oxygen saturation levels back to normal because he couldn’t clear his airway the way most people do by swallowing or coughing.

We had gleaned some hope from families that we had been put in contact with who had children with the same diagnosis. They were living at home with their families, growing, learning and loving despite their weak bodies and many medical issues. In many cases, they were living way past what doctors were anticipating. We desperately wanted that for JP. We wanted our other kids to get to know their new brother and we wanted JP to feel the love and joy of a home and his family.

When he was 7 weeks old, JP had surgery for a G-tube, to enable us to feed him with a feeding pump and a tracheostomy because he required constant breathing support from a ventilator. When he was 3 months old, we brought him home.

It was beautiful to see the other kids interacting with him. Joey learned to use the suction machine and would practice reading to him, Liam loved learning to do his physical therapy exercises with him, Madie danced for him, and Ben would kiss him and play peek-a-boo. At every meal, they would fight over whose turn it was to give him his medicine or hook up his bag of formula to his g-tube port. This was our “new normal” and we loved it.

We also had some pretty major struggles in getting adequate nursing care and ended up doing much of his 24-hour care ourselves, taking shifts through the night on weekends, frequently jumping from bed to assist a nurse in clearing his airway and helping him recover his oxygen saturations to normal levels, taking him to appointments with just about every specialist you could name. He was hospitalized several times for infections. We also observed him quickly losing strength. Within a few months of his homecoming, he had lost the ability to smile, what little movement he had in his fingers disappeared and he was increasingly losing eye control.

Having a child who was so medically fragile introduced new challenges to our marriage as well. Never before was communication so critical. In some ways, it was easier to understand where the other was coming from. We were more sympathetic and patient because we were both going through the same sleep deprivation, emotional exhaustion, and tension of caring for a child whose life was not a given from one moment to the next. We were more unified and accommodating, and we literally knew where the other was at any given moment. John Paul gave us opportunities to love each other in new ways, like delaying waking the other when it was time for the 2 a.m. shift change or making sure the other got “snuggle time” with JP. We were reporting to each other when we needed to step away from John Paul’s side so that the other was “on call.” We also literally didn’t have the emotional energy for petty fighting. Did both of us snap sometimes in exhaustion, stress or frustration? Absolutely, but neither of us put that much weight on it. We both knew we were as vulnerable to the same weaknesses. Things that weren’t critical to the mission were quickly forgotten.

In other areas, our communication was more difficult than it ever had been. We had to make decisions about the future of our family and about how to do what was best for our son who was on life support, and we didn’t always agree. Little by little we learned that even when we disagreed quite strongly about the course we felt our family should take, we had to respect and trust the intentions and heart of the other. Resolutions were not always made overnight. Ultimately, because we both truly did have the interest of John Paul and the entire family in the forefront, when action needed to be taken, we were able to see eye to eye with time and prayer.

In February of 2013, we learned that much of John Paul’s brain had wasted. There were also new concerns that he had developed a type of nerve cancer. With a lot of prayer and peace, we discerned that God was calling John Paul home. On February 20, 2013, our parish priest said a Mass in our family room and, surrounded by family and songs of praise, JP joined the saints in heaven.

It has been a little over a year since John Paul died. Pat and I are learning how to support each other in the different ways we grieve. We are learning to be better listeners and better sharers. There is a deeper bond between us now. I can only compare it to what I imagine the bond is like between two soldiers who are fighting in the trenches together. I say “fighting” because even though John Paul isn’t with us now, the war is not over yet. It won’t be until we are both reunited with our little boy. There are plenty of battles left to fight and only God knows what they will involve. They may include more children with SMA. They may include more healthy children with other struggles. They will include the challenge of helping our children get to heaven.

Many times in the last two years, it took getting to that breaking point, whether it was feeling like getting adequate nursing care was impossible, receiving yet another call with bad test results from a doctor, or snapping at my husband in exhaustion, before I surrendered the circumstances to God. Ultimately, God did work everything out, but had I trusted Him with it sooner, perhaps I could have appreciated His hand in those moments rather than in retrospect. There are many statistics about the damage the death of a child can do to a marriage. Sadly, I don’t doubt their validity but it is a number that is unnecessarily high. When God gives us more than we can handle, it is because He wants us to entrust it to Him, and let Him take care of it. We can only fail if we try to do it alone. Of course, the myth is in thinking that we can do anything without God. Whether it is sharing the last piece of cake or burying a one-year-old son, we constantly rely on the grace that God gives us in our vocation to get our spouse and children to heaven.

Related Articles
“Spiritual Help for Grieving Parents” by Charley Monaghan

About the author
Elena Kilner is the author of Letters to John Paul: A Mother Discovers God’s Love in Her Suffering Child, http://mooringspress.com/letterstojohnpaul.html.

About the photo
Patrick and Elena Kilner with their children, used with permission.

Till Death Do Us Part

The following is an excerpt from the book It Is Well: Life in the Storm by Chris Faddis, shared with permission from the author and Carmel Communications. In his book, Chris writes about finding out on Easter Sunday 2011 that his wife Angela had terminal colon cancer. She died 17 months later at age 32, leaving behind her grieving husband and two young children. It Is Well is a story of grief, love, loss, and faith.

To purchase It Is Well, please visit http://itiswellbook.com.

I sat with Angela as much as I could, holding her hand, playing music and praying many prayers, yet I would find myself feeling very restless and anxious. There is no more helpless feeling than sitting by a loved one’s side waiting for them to die. I felt as if I should be doing something. To move away from the instincts of trying to help her live, of doing everything I could to fight this disease, towards suddenly giving up was painful and heart wrenching. I had discerned our decision to move Angela home with hospice care with the help of very knowledgeable friends who walked me through the process of making this decision. It was clear that Angela’s body was in the pre-active dying process, and that there really was nothing we could do to stop it. One friend posed the decision this way: “At some point it is time to surrender to God and if she is in the pre-active dying process, it might be that time to accept death.”

I was confident that we had made the right choice, but as I sat in her room, I felt helpless and useless. I would rethink my decisions and question myself. “Am I giving up too soon?” This wasn’t helped, of course, by a few well-meaning people who voiced that they thought I was giving up hope. So in my restlessness and uneasiness I would pace, find things to do and find myself getting frustrated. As I would come back into the room, I would look at Angela’s peaceful face, and I would realize that my only job was to just be present to her and to wait patiently with her for death. When I finally surrendered to this reality, that my only job was to just be present to her, I felt an incredible peace.

Chris Faddis holding his wife Angela’s hand

One particular afternoon, just a few days before she died, I sat with Angela and held her hand as I read to her. She would occasionally look up and listen or smile. I would tell her how much I loved and cherished her and she would respond with a faint response. At one point she whispered, “I always knew you would cherish me to the end.” As she fell back to sleep, I looked down at our hands and her ring was missing. It had fallen off several times, as Angela was so frail that it was now too large for her finger. She had placed it on the table next to her bed. I picked up the ring and placed it on her finger and held her hand again. I gazed upon our hands, reflecting on that ring and what it symbolized, on our hands and the symbolism of husband and wife walking hand in hand through life. I thought about the first time we held hands. It was on our first date to Cirque du Soleil. At one point Angela had moved her hand near mine and then gently touched my hand. I took her hand till the crowd erupted in applause and a standing ovation. Angela never admitted to holding my hand that night. She would say, “I did not hold your hand that night. I wasn’t ready.” I would laugh and remind her of the many things she did during that time of friendship – when she supposedly did not want to date yet – like lean on me, touch my hand, and even press her cheek against mine for a long time, as if to wait for a kiss. She would laugh at me and say, “Whatever, I was not that forward.” I then thought about when we did finally hold hands after we were “officially” dating. There is something remarkable about holding hands when you are falling in love.

Many people say it’s in the kiss that you know, or it’s love at first sight; I tend to think it’s in the hands. Holding hands was not always romantic, but holding hands was our constant connection to one another. Even when in an argument or a difficult conversation, we would often hold hands. When Angela was struggling with depression, I held her hands many times just to calm her, to soothe her, to help her feel supported. Angela, too, would hold my hand when I was having a hard day or down about my job situation or our financial hurdles. A simple touch of her hand would instantly soothe me.

Through Angela’s cancer journey, holding hands had become our primary form of intimacy. Whether Angela was receiving chemotherapy, waiting for surgery or simply resting at home, we would spend lots of time holding hands, talking, praying and simply being present. As I held her hand during this seventeen-month journey, I would often squeeze and hold her hand very tight as I thought about losing her, as if I could somehow hold her tight enough to keep her from dying. Now sitting in our room as she lie in wait for death, holding her hand was literally all I had left. She could hardly speak or even acknowledge my words; I simply had to hold her hand to communicate my love and to be sure she knew she was not alone. Indeed, I would be there till the end.

As I thought about her hands, I also thought about that ring, the one I gave her as I asked her to be my bride and the ring that stood as a symbol of this life-long Sacrament of Marriage. With that ring came our promise to love one another fully and completely until death came for one of us. The wedding ring speaks of permanence, of commitment, of an unbreakable bond between a husband and wife. Yet that ring could not bind her any longer; it could not keep her from dying, and it certainly could not keep her from heaven.

As I sat in this moment, I wanted to capture our hands one last time. I took a picture that I later shared. It is the image of us holding hands with Angela’s ring as the focal point of the image.  A week or so earlier I had verbally told Angela that she was free to go home. My words on that day were, “You took my hand and you have loved me well. When Jesus comes and offers you his hand, you are free to go.” After taking the picture of our hands I felt I should say those words again. So I wrote them down and then read them to Angela:

“Till Death”

As if I could keep you longer, I placed this ring back on your finger today. It had fallen off a few times.

Oh, that this ring could keep you here longer. It is a mark of our commitment; it is my promise to love you with my whole heart, and yet there is a love greater than mine that will take you soon. How could this mere piece of gold compare to the love of God, which loves you completely, wholly, and perfectly?

It cannot, so I will hold your hand a little while longer. I will keep putting this ring back on your finger. But when the time comes and He asks you for your hand, you are free to go. Go to that perfect love which makes all things new. Go and be whole again. For now, till death do we part.

Married Couples and the Challenge of Military Service

You are about to enter a union which is most sacred and serious, an image of Christ and the Church.” Generations of couples heard those words of the Exhortation Before Marriage found in the ritual for the Sacrament of Marriage as celebrated before the Second Vatican Council. Indeed, from the very beginning, Almighty God endowed the union between man and woman with a mission and blessed their commitment to each other. The Lord Jesus Christ raised that union to a sacrament and entrusted to Christian married couples the duty to mirror the love of Christ for his Church.

The calling to the Sacrament of Matrimony is so noble, yet it is currently challenged on many fronts, especially for military families in this time of war, deployment, and suffering. The active-duty chaplains who serve our men and women in uniform and those who minister in the hospitals of the Veterans Health Administration will confirm that one of the most serious by-products of the wars in the Middle East are the burdens placed on families. These burdens are a price that we will pay for generations to come. The weakening of matrimony and family life that results ultimately weakens our society and jeopardizes our future.

Post-Traumatic Stress

Certainly, a significant factor causing the pain that a marriage experiences after deployment is post-traumatic stress. Many of those who have served in the war zone suffer from this stress, which is related to traumatic experiences. However, some have speculated that almost everyone who has served in a war zone has suffered or suffers from some degree of post-traumatic stress.

Post-traumatic stress is not a new problem. Since the Civil War, various expressions have been used to describe the changes that affect a member of the military who has seen combat. “Shell-shocked” was the expression used after World War I, and “battle fatigue” was used after World War II.

What are the symptoms? Sufferers might have distressing recollections, nightmares, and flashbacks to events in the war zone. They may have seen comrades violently killed. They may have experienced an explosion at close quarters. They try to keep the event from their minds and at the same time avoid activities that used to bring them pleasure. They can feel detached and unable to love anyone. Sleep may become a challenge, which results in increased irritability, outbursts of anger, and an exaggerated concept of how much vigilance is necessary. It all stems from a lack of trust, because trust has been betrayed. If one or more of these symptoms persist longer than a month or two, then the person is clearly suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

It is not hard to imagine the effects on the sufferer’s family. After having experienced the hardship of separation, they find themselves reunited with a spouse who seems like a stranger to them. Tension can result from the simplest situations of everyday life. Misunderstandings are common. The communion of life, which describes marriage, suffers considerably.

For a variety of reasons, many of those who are afflicted do not seek help. Many might still be on active duty and are therefore reluctant to admit their need. They may fear discharge, which in the current economic situation could easily mean unemployment. Others, no longer on active duty, may worry about possible harm to their post-service career. Many, too, do not realize that they have been changed. They are unaware that something has happened. As is so easily the case, they blame the tension in their marriage on their partner.

Tours of duty in the war zone vary according to service and responsibilities, but no tour is easy for anyone. During my visit to Iraq during Holy Week, I was overwhelmed by the appreciation of those deployed there. I met the men and women who patrol hostile areas, those who care for the wounded, and those who are in positions of command. Their patriotism is obvious, but the weight of the separation from loved ones and the uncertainty of the future cannot fail to increase their burden.

By all accounts the situation in Afghanistan is worse. There, the men and women in uniform are being killed on routine journeys, victims of roadside bombs planted by an invisible enemy. Hundreds of injuries send the combatants home and affect families for the rest of their lives.

Yet back home, life must go on. The children must be educated, the family must be cared for, and decisions must be made. It is true that electronic communication is much better than ever before. The Internet allows frequent contacts. Many military installations have systems in place that allow parents to read to their children on a DVD that is then transmitted home, and other wonders of modern communication function well. Yet that is never the same as being there. Twenty-nine years of living far from loved ones made that lesson very clear to me.

The Economy and Other Tensions

It is true that the present economic situation does not have a direct effect on the military, in the sense that military personnel are not being let go. They experience no problems with unemployment themselves. However, they do experience all the other effects of an economic downturn. Spouses who work in the private sector may well have lost jobs. Frequent moves make spouses’ employment opportunities more precarious. Many enlisted personnel come from more challenged economic situations. They may be supporting many others, including extended family. That responsibility makes their limited incomes a greater hardship when the demands increase.

Deployment also means that a spouse becomes a single parent with all of the challenges that situation entails. The possibility that the condition may become permanent in the case of death in the line of duty also adds to the tension already present in the individual in the military, his or her spouse, and the family.

These tensions cannot fail to have their effect on the military family. Despite all of the military’s efforts to support family life, to give couples and families time together after deployments, and to recognize the strain provoked by the war, the incidence of divorce in military families is on the rise. Some extreme situations have involved homicide and suicide. In the face of separations and the pain of post-traumatic stress disorder, it is challenging to live the communion of life and love intended and blessed by Almighty God.

Reentry into Society

Certainly all of us, military and civilian, can help by our prayers and by our eagerness to welcome home the military personnel who return home to our cities and neighborhoods. We can also perceive their needs and try to offer some assistance in that complex process of reintegration into the family and society. We all contribute to making favorable the conditions that support matrimony as the sacrament of enduring love.

Could that not also mean “turning down the volume” in our society? One of the most striking changes that I have noticed in returning to the United States after years of residence abroad is the abrasiveness of our discourse. People from all sides of the political spectrum write and speak without any attempt at civility, courtesy, or those virtues that once defined a lady or a gentleman. Being convinced that my belief is correct is not an excuse to shout at my neighbor, call him names, or question his sincerity. If we, as Catholics, can remember to treat everyone with kindness and strive to keep uppermost in our minds the fact that every person is created in the image and likeness of God, we can render the Gospel more accessible to our world.

I am not certain if the violence and the abrasiveness so often seen on the television or heard on the radio reflect the condition of our society or if they are partial sources of it, but it is clear that each one of us can make a difference. Inaction is not a worthy response. A more serene society would also contribute to the returning veteran’s tranquility and ease.

Medical care and rehabilitation are indeed responsibilities of the Armed Forces and the federal government. However, I submit that we, as Catholics, have a duty to make our contribution to the psychological and spiritual rehabilitation of these brave young men and women who have sacrificed so much for their country. It is not even a question of agreeing with or sharing the political views of those who fostered the war. It is simply a question of responding to the moral imperative of the Gospel.

We can make a difference in our parish communities by seeking out returning veterans and trying, as a community, to help them reenter society and the rhythm of life in the United States. They may be strangers to their family. They have lost trust. They have been shaken by the atrocities of war. They need time to refamiliarize themselves with those dearest to them.

Marriage is indeed a union most sacred and serious. It is a wonderful gift to the Church and to society. Like all precious gifts it must be cared for, supported, and sustained.

This material was originally developed as a resource for Catechetical Sunday 2010.

About the document
The document Married Couples and the Challenge of Military Service was developed as a resource by the Committee on Evangelization and Catechesis of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB). It was reviewed by the committee chairman, Bishop Richard J. Malone, and has been authorized for publication by the undersigned.

Msgr. David J. Malloy, STD
General Secretary, USCCB

For more support for military marriages, please visit For Your Military Marriage.

Marriage: The Later Years

The later years includes the blissful “empty-nest” season of a marriage that can feel like a second honeymoon. Many couples welcome their new freedom,” while others have a hard time letting go. Sometimes a couple who happily thought they were in the empty-nest stage are faced with a boomerang young adult who again needs their care, presence, home, and perhaps babysitting services. The later years can also bring major health issues and the gradual loss of abilities.

Second marriage couples enter the later years of their lives but it’s the early years of their marriage. Men and women who marry after a divorce or death of a spouse, or after waiting for the right person, experience in their later years some of the same adjustments of young marrieds.

Issues of diminishing health, grief over peers dying, and significant blocks of togetherness time are common. Thus, the wife who married her husband “for better or for worse, but not for lunch together!” becomes a poignant cliché.

How do couples re-negotiate their relationship to take into account their new freedom, increased time together, possibly decreased income, and fading health and energy? Some do it with grace because over the years they’ve learned the marital dance of flexibility and tolerance. Some complain a lot – about life, about each other, about the weather.

Some may want to complain but know that’s not very endearing. Yet they struggle with letting go of the old patterns and roles of their life together. For these couples, the desire to let go with grace may be enough motivation to:

Attend a marriage enrichment program geared especially to older couples
Explore new hobbies and interests together
Volunteer with their church, community, or other good causes that would benefit from their experience
Deepen their spirituality to help them deal with the losses and limitations of later life
Forgive others’ faults and drop long-held grudges

Other Resources

The Second Half of Marriage small group resource: see listing on the Encouragement and Enrichment page.

For Further Reading

Blessings of Age: A Pastoral Message on Growing Older Within the Faith Community
“The Lifecycle Stages of Marriage”, by Barbara Markey, Ph.D.

Infertility

In the book of Genesis, we find God’s first commandment to humankind: “Be fruitful and multiply. . .” (Genesis 1:28) It appears that God infused this commandment to procreate into the fiber of our beings. It seems to be written in our hearts, dreamed of in our minds, ached for in our bodies, and yearned for in our spirits. Thus, when a couple is unable to have children, it causes great pain emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually. The feelings of emptiness and loss are overwhelming. The search for reasons and remedies becomes a relentless passion. Doctors, procedures, the time, the cost, the hope, and the hurt are constant companions on the lonely road walked by couples searching for the destination of parenthood.

Statistics tell us that couples do not walk this road alone. According to the United States Centers for Disease Control (2015), one out of every five couples in America suffers from infertility problems. This means in the United States, 7.3 million women and their partners, of childbearing years, are infertile. Infertility affects the male or female reproductive system with almost equal frequency. Infertility affects people from every racial, ethnic, religious, and socioeconomic level.

Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive within one year of trying, or not being able to carry a child to live birth. Infertility may occur in a couple’s first attempts to bring a child into the world, or as secondary infertility when they have successfully given birth before, but are not able to do so again. Women who are able to get pregnant, but have miscarriages, are also said to be infertile.

Keep in mind that there are as many roads to resolving infertility as there are infertile couples to travel them. The array of options and medical interventions for a couple facing fertility challenges can be confusing and hazardous. Each route brings many ethical, moral, spiritual, emotional, and physical ramifications. It is important to plan carefully to avoid potholes and ensure a safe trip.

Start By Becoming Informed

Learning basic infertility information can put you on the road to further discovery. Contact a Natural Family Planning specialist in your area who can help you identify the optimum time for conception. Familiarize yourself with infertility treatment options. Couples who learn about various diagnostic tests, procedures, and medications are better able to make informed decisions.

Get In Touch With Your Emotions

It is important to realize that infertility is more than just a physical condition. It also involves many emotional issues such as intense feelings of anger, anxiety, frustration, helplessness, loneliness, grief, envy, and even depression. All these emotions can be debilitating if you don’t face them and work to counteract them. You may want to seek support from a professional counselor. Through counseling, you can clarify your priorities, improve your self-concept, and your coping skills.

Stay Connected To Your Spouse

Coping with the uncertainties of infertility, the roller coaster of emotions, the multitude of medical decisions, and moral concerns is challenging even for the strongest marriages. Infertility often causes lifestyle changes, reordering of priorities, financial problems, intimacy issues, physical discomfort, career disruption, problems with relatives, and isolation from friends. Since the stress of infertility can place a strain on your relationship, look for ways to nurture your marriage and make your spouse your top priority.

Maintain Your Social Life

Certain events in everyday life may become difficult. The birth of a friend’s baby or even seeing a pregnant stranger can bring on a flood of painful feelings. Holidays often seem to focus on children, and Mother’s Day or Father’s Day can be difficult. Social functions like baby showers or children’s birthday parties are hard to attend. Many people struggling with infertility problems find it hard to attend religious services, especially ones where there will be baptisms.

Many infertile couples try to navigate the twists and turns on the journey to parenthood without support. Seek out an infertility support group to avoid isolation. Since the number of people with infertility problems is high, you may be amazed at the support that is available.

Prepare a Response To Insensitive Comments

Those who struggle with infertility truly suffer greater physical, emotional, marital, and spiritual pain than most people can imagine. Many parents of adult married children do not realize the pain caused by their questions and prods to conceive grandchildren. Insensitive comments by family, friends, and strangers can inflict deep wounds. Prepare a well-rehearsed response. You could take the direct approach and say, “We want children, but are having trouble. We are seeing a specialist and ask for your prayers. We prefer not to talk about it.”

Make Important Decisions and Create A Plan

Construct an overall plan so you know where you are and where you’re headed. Start with the fact that you want to be parents. Then ask what you are willing to do to make it happen. Make decisions that take into consideration your moral principles, family building objectives, money, age, and need for control. Find a doctor who agrees with your plan and can help. Be assertive in stating what you want and do not want to do. You have the right to make your own decisions about treatment.

Begin by an honest acknowledgment of your feelings and the medical realities. You and your spouse are different people. You will have different styles, feelings, attitudes, and desires. Sharing your perspectives will help you decide which paths to take. Sharing the turmoil of infertility will deepen your commitment to each other, whether you eventually give birth to a child, raise a foster child, adopt a child, or don’t raise a child and spend time serving the broader community.

Answer these questions to help you make your plan:

What are you both willing to sacrifice to become parents?
Do you know the teaching of your faith tradition on this issue?
Do you want to respect the dignity of marriage and human life?
How much physical and emotional trauma are you willing to endure?
What tests do you want to have?
How will you do the tests?
What treatments will you explore?
How many times will you repeat them?
How much money will you spend?
What doctor or clinic should you select?
Will you put your life on hold as you focus on infertility treatments?
When will you decide to quit trying?
Is your main goal to be a biological parent or is it to have a child join your family?
Are you going to focus on conception exclusively, or will you also pursue family-building through adoption?
Would you adopt a baby, an older child or a child with special needs?
Are you willing to be a family without children?

Respect For The Sacredness of Life and Marriage

Couples dealing with infertility are often led step by step down a path that may possibly create life. However, many assisted reproduction technologies also cause the destruction of human life. This fact is seldom explained to a couple before the various procedures begin.

Marital stress from the mood swings caused by some fertility drugs can tear apart a marriage that is already stressed from the anxieties of infertility. The tension between spouses and fear of blame, if infertility can be traced clearly to one partner, can be devastating for a couple. Medical practices that undermine the biological, psychological, and moral bonds of marriage, or have the potential to destroy life, need to be avoided.

Use Caution

Couples are sometimes lured to assisted reproduction technology without investigating other options. The experience of infertility has become politicized as scientists, medical professionals, and potential parents confront society’s mores and religious perspectives. The wisdom of past generations is untapped as couples are encouraged to make these major life decisions with little guidance.

Seek Spiritual Comfort and Wisdom

There are many questionable happenings on the road that scientists are paving for those suffering infertility. As reproductive technology blazes trails through uncharted land, we are at a moral crossroads. First, seek God’s intervention before you embark on this challenging path.

Pastoral support and care can offer comfort and helpful perspectives. Discuss options with your pastor, partake in blessing rituals, learn religious teachings, and evaluate your options in light of this information. Seek out faith-based support groups, mentoring, and spiritual direction. The faith community cannot take away your tears but can show you how to make them holy.

Resources:

Elizabeth Ministry International Retreat and Resource Center provides support and assistance in responding to the proliferation of mind-boggling options. (920) 766- 9380, emfounder@elizabethministry.com

Our Fruitful Love is the Catholic Diocese of Arlington’s accompaniment for spouses experiencing infertility or pregnancy or infant loss. The website has digital resources, avenues of support, and reflections from other couples who have struggled with infertility, miscarriage, and stillbirth.

Pope Paul VI Institute for the Study of Human Reproduction provides information on NaProTechnology, a new reproductive science, which does not compromise the sanctity of life or marriage.

Springs in the Desert is a Catholic Community formed through the shared suffering of infertility and loss to accompany those who also carry this cross. We walk together in solidarity and hope, discovering the ways God is transforming our desert path into fruitfulness.

More Resources:

Made for Love, a Catholic podcast from the USCCB, episode 9: Love that is Fruitful in Infertility
The Infertility Comp anion for Catholics by Angelique Ruhi-Lopez and Carmen Santamaria
Adoption: Choosing It, Living It, Loving It by Dr. Ray Guarendi
While We Wait: Spiritual and Practical Advice for Those Trying to Adopt by Heidi Schlumpf
Children as Commodities?

About the author
Jeannie Hannemann, M.A. is the director of Elizabeth Ministry International.