Lord God, grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference—but please, Lord, meet me in the place where those words are so much harder to live than they are to say.
There are things about infertility I desperately want to change. I want my body to do what I thought it would naturally do. I want the treatments to work. I want the tests to give us answers. I want the next month to be different from the last. I want to stop counting days, watching symptoms, calculating possibilities, and wondering whether every little change means that perhaps this time something has happened.
Sometimes I want to fix everything because accepting that something is outside my control feels unbearable.
Give me wisdom, Lord.
Show me what is truly mine to do. Give me courage to seek good medical care, ask difficult questions, care for my body, protect my marriage, and make decisions consistent with the dignity of human life and the teachings of Your Church. Give me perseverance when there are morally good treatments still worth pursuing, and give me discernment when it is time to stop pursuing something that is harming my body, my marriage, my peace, or my relationship with You.
Help me remember that medicine can investigate, diagnose, treat, and sometimes heal—but it cannot command life into existence.
Life remains gift.
And that is so difficult, Lord, because this is the gift I want so badly.
Grant me serenity for the things I cannot control: the passing months, the results of tests, the limits of medicine, another negative pregnancy test, another cycle beginning, another announcement arriving unexpectedly, another baby shower invitation that somehow brings both genuine happiness and genuine pain.
Teach me that acceptance is not the same as pretending I do not hurt.
Serenity does not mean that I never cry.
Surrender does not mean that I stop asking.
Trust does not mean that I understand.
And faith does not require me to call infertility good.
Infertility hurts because the desire beneath it is good. The longing to give myself to a child, to nurture life, to become a mother or father, and to watch our love become fruitful is not something I need to be ashamed of.
So when grief comes, let me grieve with You.
When anger comes, keep me close enough to tell You the truth.
When jealousy appears, help me recognize it quickly and bring it to You before it becomes bitterness.
When another couple announces a pregnancy, give me the grace to rejoice in the goodness of their child without believing that their blessing means You have forgotten me.
When I see a mother holding her baby and something inside me aches, remind me that the ache itself can become prayer.
Lord, give me courage for what I can change.
If infertility is beginning to consume our marriage, help us turn toward one another again.
If I have begun treating my body as an enemy, teach me to regard it with mercy.
If I have allowed this longing to define my worth, remind me who I am.
I am not a diagnosis.
I am not a laboratory result.
I am not a failed treatment.
I am not less of a woman or less of a man because conception has not occurred.
Before every earthly vocation and every human relationship, I am Your beloved child.
My dignity was given by You and cannot be measured by fertility.
And Lord, give me wisdom to know when serenity means waiting, when courage means acting, and when surrender means opening my heart to a path toward family that I never expected.
Perhaps You will heal what seems impossible to heal.
Perhaps conception will still come.
Perhaps adoption will become part of our story.
Perhaps there are chapters ahead that I cannot imagine from where I stand today.
I do not know.
But You do.
So I place into Your hands what I cannot control, and I ask You for grace to faithfully carry what remains mine to do.
Blessed Fulton Sheen, who returned day after day to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, pray that I may learn to bring this longing before Christ rather than carrying it alone.
Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of Life, cover me beneath your mantle when the waiting becomes heavy.
St. Joseph, teach me quiet trust when God’s plans unfold differently than expected.
Jesus, give me serenity without resignation, courage without desperation, wisdom without fear, and hope without demanding that I know the ending.
And when I cannot surrender tomorrow, help me surrender today.
When I cannot surrender the whole journey, help me surrender this hour.
When even that feels impossible, receive this single heartbeat as my prayer:
Jesus, I trust You with what I cannot control. Help me faithfully do what I can.
Always remember Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Holy Family! Help us to be a holy family and pray for us!
Amen.