An Open Letter to Couples Living with Infertility – Catholic World Report

When some of my ethics clients describe their frustration in dealing with infertility, they often borrow a phrase from childhood: “I feel like I’m about to cry uncle.”

The right way to translate that admission? Counseling experience teaches me that these couples are at a moment of exhaustion, grief, and longing.

For those of you battling infertility for months or even years, I would suggest ‘crying uncle’ is not about giving up on your desire for a child. It’s about reaching a point where you sense the swirling emotional and spiritual weight of an empty womb is simply overwhelming. You might use a variety of explanations:

• Our bodies aren’t responding the way we would like.
• The rollercoaster of hope and disappointment is wearing us down.
• We just need a moment to breathe.

‘Crying uncle’ is not failure. It’s your human vulnerability spoken aloud.

At this point, because you treasure the Catholic Faith, an important question surfaces: How does the Church meet your ‘cry uncle’ moment?

In the first place, the Church speaks with clarity about the dignity of the child you hope to conceive and the moral boundaries around the reproductive technologies you might want to access. But, secondly, and most decisively, she also speaks with deep tenderness about your suffering.

The Church wants you to know she understands, among the many joys and sorrows that touch the life of your Christian family, few wounds cut as quietly or as deeply as the experience of infertility. Not being able to conceive a child, or to maintain a pregnancy, or to deliver a healthy baby cuts to the core of your being. More than anyone else on this planet, you grasp that you are “hard-wired to cooperate with God in the creation of new life.”¹

The Church recognizes this suffering. She does not turn away from it, nor does she reduce it to a medical problem or a moral dilemma. Instead, she perceives it is an integral part of your human story, which the crucified Christ desires to make his own.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church² speaks with clarity and tenderness about this reality. It recognizes the “suffering of spouses who cannot have children” and affirms that your longing is good and natural. It also reminds you that when legitimate medical efforts do not bring about conception, you’re invited to unite your sorrow with the Cross of Christ, trusting that God remains close to you in your grief. Your marriage, the Catechism teaches, does not lose its fruitfulness in the face of infertility. The metric for fruitfulness is not only biology but the love you share and the generosity you embody.

This same pastoral heart is echoed in Donum Vitae³ that begins, not with prohibitions, but with compassion. It acknowledges the legitimacy of your “desire for a child” and the deep suffering you bear because you can’t have children or sustain a pregnancy. The moral guidance of Donum Vitae is never a rejection of your longing for a baby, but a defense of your dignity and the dignity of the child. It reminds you that every child is a gift, never a product, and the marital act is the privileged place where the gift of life is meant to be received.

Dignitas personae⁴ deepens this reflection, calling infertility a “painful trial,” all the while urging pastors and communities to accompany you with “understanding and patient support.” The Instruction affirms the goodness of seeking medical help, provided that such help assists—rather than replaces—the marital act.⁵ More, the document calls you to look for an integral approach to care, one that respects your whole person and honors the sacredness and full truth of your marital bond.

In Amoris Laetitia⁶, Pope Francis speaks with particular tenderness. He acknowledges that infertility is “a source of real suffering” and urges the Church to show “delicate and pastoral closeness.” He reminds you, throughout your struggle to conceive or to maintain a pregnancy, that your infertility does not exclude you as a couple from the fruitfulness of love. With spiritual insight, Pope Francis insists that your efforts to bring your love to perfection in giving life cannot be reduced to biology. Your marriage could radiate a “fruitfulness of charity,” expressed through “adoption, foster care, spiritual parenthood,” and by your beautiful expression of openness to life.

The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops echoes this pastoral vision in its Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services⁷. The bishops affirm the legitimacy of treating infertility while, at the same time, calling for compassionate pastoral care for couples like you who are navigating these challenges for months, even years. It requires those delivering Catholic healthcare to support you in morally sound avenues of treatment and accompany you with respect, charity, and hope.

Recent USCCB pastoral materials⁸ speak even more directly to your lived experience as couples. Describing infertility as a cross that the Church helps you carry, these guidelines emphasize that your parish and diocesan community should surround you with love, not pressure or judgment. They encourage parishes to offer support groups, spiritual accompaniment, and practical guidance, confirming you in the realization you do not walk this path alone.

As you can see, across Vatican and USCCB teaching, a consistent theology of infertility emerges. It speaks to your experience of the loss of a hoped-for child and family. It calls you to unite your loss with Christ crucified and so participate in the redemptive meaning of Christian suffering. The Church reaches out to you and every couple who carries this hidden sorrow. She offers not judgment but companionship; not simplistic answers but the promise of God’s nearness; not a narrowing of hope but its expansion.

Never forget: because your marriage remains fruitful even without biological children, your marriage is a living sign of God’s love. Your generosity, your perseverance, and your faithfulness are already bearing fruit in ways the world—and maybe you—cannot always see. Your cross of infertility is never carried alone; Christ bears it with you, and the Church desires to walk beside you with tenderness and hope.

Lastly, when your human exhaustion—your ‘cry uncle’ moment—meets moral truth, the Church counsels:

• You are not required to exhaust every possible medical option.
• You are not morally obligated to pursue treatments that are burdensome or invasive.
• You are allowed to rest.
• You are allowed to grieve.
• You are allowed to discern a different path—adoption, foster care, spiritual parenthood or a season of healing.

In other words, the Church’s teaching does not demand endless striving. It invites faithful discernment grounded in peace.

At an even deeper level, what the Church is proposing to you is a Christian meaning of surrender. The surrender of Jesus on the Cross. Rather than defeat, this Christic surrender is trust in the Father’s loving plan. What I’m trying to say is that for couples like you, ‘crying uncle’ and surrendering to God’s plan for your marriage is a moment of grace. A moment to hand your burden back to God. A moment to rediscover that the fruitfulness of your marriage transcends biology. A moment to remember your dignity as a couple does not depend on your ability to conceive.

In a society where productivity and results seem to define a person’s worth, being unable to conceive children can feel like a catastrophic failure. But the Church rejects that stance. From her perspective, the deep wound of infertility not only has meaning and dignity but also constitutes a path to redemption that the world cannot offer.

My prayer for you: May the Lord who knows every longing of your heart bless you with His peace, strengthen you in His love, and guide you in your continued open-hearted search for Him.

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