In 2021, I attended a new women’s ministry at my church. After placing a name tag on my shirt, I was quickly approached by a woman who kindly introduced herself to me, and I did likewise.

Then came the dreaded next question: “And how many children do you have?”

My heart sank. “I don’t have any kids.” Full stop.

There was a long pause and I wasn’t sure whether I was more uncomfortable or she was.

The truth is, she had no idea how painful the question would be for me, that I had already been through over 4 years of infertility and counting. I realized she was simply trying to get to know me and I ought to give her some grace. I have certainly had my fair share of moments when I have said something without really thinking first.

I didn’t care to divulge my infertility woes upon first acquainting with her. At the same time, it felt wrong to not follow up my answer with the fact that I would love to have children; I am simply unable to. I remember hoping that she would still find me worthwhile to talk to.

We moved on to some other small talk, but I continued to be bothered by the seemingly innocent question.

It is natural to search for commonalities with others and it feels comfortable to talk about shared experiences. Motherhood is certainly a hot topic and an easy one for most women to get caught up in. I am not offended by the chatter about mommy life. In fact, I enjoy hearing about the ups and downs of raising children and it would be selfish not to care about the real-life stuff going on in the lives of the women around me. Plus, I like to learn from those who are mothers in ways that may help me if one day, God willing, my family does indeed grow.

I went home that night trying not to take the encounter so personally, but still it did. The question bothered me for two reasons. For one, the way it was asked presumed that I must already have children; and two, it seemed to place a great importance of the quantity of children that I may have.

If I can’t have children, what is my worth?

Over the next several months of soul searching, I invited God to enter deeper into my woundedness. I came to realize that I had allowed the idea of motherhood lord over me for most of my life, as if it was the ultimate way to win over God’s love – and even the love of others.

One of the quiet graces of infertility is that, when I’m not wrestling with God, I am actually listening to Him. And He does speak.

I felt like God had written me a love letter, and after all these years, I finally decided to open it. Not only that, but it was if He was asking me to share it with you.

Ladies, I don’t know who all needs to read this, but whoever does, I hope you hear Him to speak to you, too.

Dear women (infertile and fertile),

This letter is written as much for you as for me.

Your worth is not in your ability to bear children, nor in the number of children you have, nor in any aspect of your motherhood at all.

Your motherhood is good – whether biological, adoptive or spiritual. It goes back to the feminine genius that God gave you to love and nurture others.

Motherhood, in some form or another, is your vocation. And when lived well, it is fruitful and life-giving.

Your worth has nothing to do with your fertility or XYZ children in your home or even the vast number of spiritual children you may inspire in this world … or even how good of a mother you are or could be.

Your worth is in the mere fact that you exist, that God created you.

“You are God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Pet 2:9).

You are God’s own people. You. Just as you are. You are unrepeatable. He knows the number of hairs on your head. Your bones are not hidden from Him. He knit you in your mother’s womb. He knew you and loved you into being.

You are a reflection of the God who made you, Who made you in secret, Whose eyes saw you unformed.

There is nothing you can do to win over the Heart of the One who already loves you.

Your motherhood? It is beautiful. It is a precious gift from God and a gift you give back to God. It is a holy instrument through which you love others, and it may even lead to your own salvation and the salvation of others. And that is good.

But your worth? You are worth more than your motherhood.

If you know anything, know this. You are God’s beloved daughter. And that is worth more than you can imagine.

And that, ladies, makes you very good.

Your Sister in Christ, Lyssa