Carol Frye
I still remember considering the phrase “We are worthy” for the first time, and how it seemed like in a sense, that didn’t make sense.
Most of my life was influenced by a form of religion that worshipped fertility. I grew up thinking that the purpose of giving girls baby dolls for every occasion was to prepare them to be future mothers. My family attended lots of weddings during my childhood, so I thought the big events of a woman’s life went like this: bridal shower, formal wedding, baby shower. My Mom brought me with her to numerous baby showers when I was young. My Mom taught me and my sisters that there was no higher role we could aspire to than marriage and motherhood. This was her personal aspiration from the time she was in her teens, and she couldn’t fathom how a woman with a different destiny could possibly be fulfilled or happy. She even forced me, her firstborn, to help care for my younger siblings or babysit her friends’ children. It never mattered that I didn’t like childcare; what mattered was in my Mom’s mind, she was preparing me for my future role as a mother.
When I was 19, I was diagnosed with permanent infertility by way of severe polycystic ovarian syndrome. I knew from then on I would never bear a child. I told my family, but my parents were unable to comprehend, just kept blubbering about how religion cancelled my diagnosis.
Then, my 4 married sisters had 14 children. My parents were thrilled with each new addition. My Mom couldn’t get enough of babysitting, which my sisters really appreciated. I witnessed how my Mom highly favored her daughters with children, and bragged on them to me. They were fulfilling the destiny she had wanted them to, but I never did, or could, so by my Mom’s standards, I had not achieved anything worthy of praise. My first spouse Donnie died in 2019, which was my big chance to marry a single dad with multiple kids. I chose not to. So, my Mom and sisters treated me with contempt and hatred. They made it very clear by their exclusionary behavior at family events, they considered me worthless because I was infertile. For too long I accepted their standard as normal, and saw myself as worthless, too.
Eventually, I thought that my blood were arrogant to assume they had the authority to designate worth. I believe each person’s worth is assigned to them by their Creator, and no human can diminish it. Of course, anyone can believe the lie that they are worthless, same as I did. After some research, I discovered that while motherhood in and of itself is not wrong, the decision to idolize it was. I knew in my heart that the way my blood hated me, it wasn’t right.
But I couldn’t heal in the same environment where I was wounded. So I ended my relationships with my blood, and my quality of life significantly improved. My depression eased up, too. That could only mean that my life *with my family in it* was worthless. My life without them is so much better.
I’m worthy of knowing both sorrow and joy.
I’m worthy of finding and fulfilling my purpose.
I’m worthy of a life I like living.
I’m worthy of surviving infertility and thriving.
The "We Are Worthy" phrase fits great!
