The Unrecognized Pain of Barrenness

Why a woman without children is still carrying real grief

1. Relatable Story

Hey Everyone :)

Have you ever hear of the story of Lot's daughters in the Bible? That story always gets me... in a disturbing kind of way. After escaping the destruction of Sodom, they end up living alone with their father hidden away in a cave. Long story short... they came up with a disturbing plan to get their father drunk, sleep with him, and preserve the family line.

Most people read that and immediately feel disturbed. Rightfully so—incest is shocking. The story makes people uncomfortable, and many simply chalk it up to sin or desperation and move on.

But I think there’s more going on. I think this story is not just about sin—it’s about the fear of having no future.

These were young women who had just watched their world burn. Their mother was gone. Their city was destroyed. Their father, who should have protected and guided them, had emotionally shut down. And now, they’re tucked away in a cave—cut off from society, from hope, from options.

And they were women—designed to carry life forward, to nurture legacy, to create connection. But they were stuck. No husbands. No direction. No visibility. They weren’t just physically in a cave. They were emotionally buried—grieving the loss of purpose before it had even begun.

Usually I would want to point out that Lot—who was supposed to move them forward—wasn’t doing his job. His sin of omission—of not recognizing his daughters’ need for social and family futures—led to their sin of commission. And honestly, that’s a conversation worth having. But today, I want to focus on the daughters. Because lately, I see myself in them.

I’m in my mid-forties now, and life didn’t turn out the way I hoped—despite years of prayer, work, and doing what I thought was right. I never imagined I’d still be alone. And sometimes, I feel like I’ve ended up in a cave of my own. Not literally, of course—but emotionally. Quiet. Hidden. Waiting.

I'll be honest... the hardest part isn’t even the waiting—it’s trying to explain the ache of it. Because when you don’t have children, or a partner, or a traditional family, people assume you must be free. They assume you chose this. And so the pain goes unrecognized—not because it isn’t real, but because it doesn’t fit their narrative.

2. Rooted Assumption

One of the most common assumptions people make about women who don’t have children is that we chose the easy road. That we wanted freedom, flexibility, or peace. That we didn’t want to deal with diapers, dinner time, or the emotional exhaustion of raising a family.

And honestly, if your world is full of the chaos that comes with parenthood, it makes sense why that would be the assumption. From the outside, a childless life looks quieter—maybe even simpler.

But here’s what that assumption misses:

In general, women will do almost anything to have children.(I’m not talking about women who have consciously chosen career over motherhood—that’s a separate conversation and will be covered in Blog #4 of this series.)

Across cultures, centuries, and even in Scripture, women who could not conceive didn’t respond with ease or relief. They responded with longing—and often, with desperation.

If you read the Bible honestly, you’ll see this pattern over and over:

• Sarah gave her husband another woman.

• Rachel said, “Give me children, or I’ll die.”

• Hannah wept so bitterly that Eli thought she was drunk.

• Lot’s daughters took things into their own hands in the most disturbing way possible.

  
  

These weren’t women trying to avoid hard work. They were women willing to endure anything—even disgrace—just to fulfill the purpose their bodies were made for: to carry life forward.

And it’s not just ancient. Even today, look at what women are willing to go through: fertility treatments, hormone shots, IVF, surrogacy. These aren’t signs of ease—they’re signs of how deep the desire for children still runs. No matter how modern we become, the ache to carry life doesn’t go away.

That’s why the assumption—that childless women are just avoiding responsibility—is not only inaccurate, it’s dangerous.

Because when you assume a woman chose this, you won’t think to offer her compassion. You won’t see the invisible grief. You won’t recognize that while she may not be raising children, she may be waking up every day with a womb that never got to do what it was made to do.

Even worse, women without children are often expected to serve more, give more, and compensate for their “lighter load” adding to their emotional pain. So not only do that carry a deep, unrecognized sorrow, they usually have to do it alone.

3. Re-examined Evidence

So let’s step out of assumption—and look at what the evidence actually says.

Modern psychology and neuroscience have confirmed what Scripture has been showing us all along: barrenness doesn’t just cause emotional disappointment—it creates real trauma in a woman’s body and brain. It’s not imagined. It’s not exaggerated. And it’s certainly not “easier.”

🧠 Psychological and Neurological Proof

A landmark study published in Human Reproduction found that women facing infertility report depression and anxiety levels comparable to patients with cancer, heart disease, or chronic pain.

→ In short, their grief is medical-level trauma. This type of grief is often classified as:

• Ambiguous loss – grief with no defined start or end.

• Disenfranchised grief – grief that goes unrecognized because it doesn’t follow a visible event.

  
  

This creates a long-term emotional state that includes:

• Identity confusion – wondering who you are when the world defines womanhood by motherhood.(Journal of Marriage and Family, 2008)

• Relational invisibility – being physically present in social settings but excluded from conversations centered on family and children.(Feminism & Psychology, 2003; Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 2014)

• Unrecognized emotional weight – carrying deep grief that others dismiss because your life looks “free.”(Omega: Journal of Death and Dying, 1989) And even worse—because there’s no funeral, miscarriage, or visible loss—many women feel guilty for grieving at all.

🧬 The Body Reacts Too—Even Without a Baby

Biologically, a woman’s body prepares for motherhood whether or not conception ever happens. Hormones like oxytocin, estrogen, and prolactin are designed to:

• Regulate bonding and nurture

• Stabilize mood and stress

• Support emotional attachment

  
  

But when there’s no child to bond with, those systems go disrupted or dormant. The result?

• Fatigue

• Insomnia

• Mood swings

• A vague but persistent sense of emptiness

  
  

Even hormone panels may appear “normal”—but the body still knows something’s missing.

🧠 The Brain Registers Barrenness as Trauma

The limbic system, which processes emotion and attachment, responds to childlessness as a loss of expected reward. The brain literally builds dopamine pathways in anticipation of motherhood and connection. When those outcomes don’t arrive, the brain reacts as though it has experienced chronic loss.

Neuroimaging studies now show that infertility-related trauma lights up the same regions of the brain affected by PTSD.

So while the outside world sees nothing…The brain quietly declares: “Something has gone terribly wrong.”

🫂 Even Touch Deprivation Plays a Role

There’s also what researchers call “skin hunger”—the physical ache caused by the absence of regular, affectionate touch.

Barren and childless women—especially those who are also single—may go long stretches without meaningful contact. This leads to measurable physical consequences:

• Increased inflammation

• Lower immune response

• Higher cortisol (stress)

• Shorter life expectancy

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This isn’t emotional weakness. It’s physiological disconnection from what the body was designed to give—but never got to.

When you understand all of this, it becomes clear: a woman’s body was created to carry life. That purpose is written into her entire being—from her brain to her hormones to her nervous system.

This explains why Lot’s daughters went to such extremes, why Hannah wept so bitterly, why Sarah was willing to let her husband sleep with another woman (a form of surrogacy back in the day).

They weren’t trying to be manipulative. They were trying to solve their pain.

When barrenness wasn’t met with comfort or healing, they did what many women still do today—they tried to fix the ache in the only way they could understand.

And maybe that’s where our perspective needs to shift.

4. Reframed Belief

This blog is not about seeing barren women as victims. I merely wanted to point out there are tangible physical consequences to the body, soul, and spirit when a woman is barren so that we can begin to question what is really happening. To truly understand barrenness, we have to stop pretending it’s neutral.

Barrenness isn’t just the absence of children or the result of bad luck. According to Scripture—specifically Deuteronomy 28—it is a curse. It’s listed alongside disease, poverty, and famine as evidence that something in a person’s life or lineage is spiritually out of order. And like every curse, it brings pain, disconnection, and often, confusion.

The problem is, many people—especially older generations—don’t see barrenness as a curse. They treat it like a personal choice or a phase someone can move past if they would just try harder. Often, the barren woman is assumed to be too picky, too career-driven, or simply “called” to live a life of service instead of family.

These assumptions are not only false, they’re harmful—because they blame the visible person while ignoring the invisible pattern.

What most people don’t understand is that curses often start with belief systems. The generation before you might have believed they were doing the right thing—focusing on duty, survival, or religious performance. But in doing so, they may have unknowingly passed down emotional suppression, misaligned gender roles, and spiritual confusion. Over time, those inherited beliefs take root—and they bear fruit.

Sometimes that fruit looks like singleness or barrenness. Other times, it looks like a woman settling for less than what she was created for—just to avoid the shame of being alone.

It’s important to say this clearly: some women avoid the curse of barrenness by entering marriages that were never aligned with their design. These relationships may produce children, which technically ends barrenness—but often at the cost of emotional intimacy, partnership, or purpose. In many cases, the woman settles out of fear. Rather than face the ache of being barren, she accepts a downgraded marriage—a union that may appear successful but quietly reflects spiritual decline. It’s not healing; it’s survival.

We’ll explore this more deeply in Blog #3: The Hidden Consequence of Settling, where we’ll look at how marriage can still carry evidence of a generational curse when it’s rooted in fear rather than restoration.

This is why it’s so important not to treat barrenness as simply a lack of effort or the result of poor decision-making. Many women are living out curses they didn’t consciously choose—curses planted by belief systems they inherited and never thought to question. Until we’re willing to call those beliefs what they are—damaging, misaligned, or spiritually off—we will continue to misunderstand barrenness and misdiagnose those who carry its burden.

This is also why shallow solutions don’t work. A wedding ring doesn’t heal spiritual disconnection. Children don’t erase identity confusion. Only truth can expose the root. And only truth, received with humility, can begin to set a woman free from a generational system that has failed her—spiritually, emotionally, and even biologically.

Modern science confirms what Scripture has long revealed: curses that manifest through trauma, abandonment, poverty, and chronic stress can actually alter gene expression—shaping fertility, hormone function, and emotional wiring. These biological changes are physically passed down from one generation to the next. Until someone confronts the root, the cycle continues—and declines.

So when you see a barren woman, don’t assume she chose that life. And don’t offer her advice rooted in superficial logic or cultural pressure. You may be looking at the visible evidence of an invisible curse.

5. Reflective Invitation

If you’ve made it this far—thank you. I know this topic hasn’t been easy. But I want to leave you with something very clear:

Don’t discount the barren woman.

Whether she's a stranger you met off the street, an acquaintance from church, a member of your family, or even maybe yourself.

Because while barrenness is a curse, the story doesn’t have to end there.

In fact, in Scripture, when barren women were willing to be transformed, God didn’t just give them children—He gave them legacy.

Sarah gave birth to Isaac, the child of promise. Rachel gave birth to Joseph, who saved entire nations. Hannah gave birth to Samuel, who anointed kings. Elizabeth gave birth to John the Baptist, who prepared the way for Christ.

These weren’t just answers to prayer—they were turning points in redemptive history.

That’s the curse of barrenness, isn’t it? The fear that your life will end with you. That the line stops here. That your name, your bloodline, your story… is over.

But if you’re willing to seek the truth—willing to examine the beliefs that got you here, to cry out for healing instead of hiding in silence—then the God who restores is willing to meet you.

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten.”— Joel 2:25

God does not honor barrenness. He redeems it— if and when the woman is willing to be changed.

You may not be able to go back and rewrite the early chapters of your life. But you can let God write the next one.

You can let truth in. You can ask, “Where did this begin?”

And you can let that question lead you—not into shame, but into healing.

Because legacies don’t just begin in the womb. They begin the moment a woman decides she's willing to be transformed by the renewing of her mind.

I hope you all have a great day!

Jacqueline Marie