Cedar N' Steel

Dear Infertile Woman,

You are not alone. You are not alone. You. Are. Not. Alone. Thousands of women are in your exact same position right now, suffering in silence, bearing the burden of infertility. Women trying to get pregnant, trying to have a baby, but feeling the exquisite pain, fear, and helplessness of having their dreams dashed month after month with the first sign of crimson failure.

I know you are not alone because I am infertile. And through sharing my story, I’ve met lots of other women who are infertile. Most have gone on to have biological children through various levels of assistance and God-given miracle, and a few like me have resigned ourselves to never carrying a child to term, never experiencing pregnancy, never holding a baby in our arms with a beautiful combination of our husbands and us. This is not an inspirational message to just keeping praying and wishing and eventually your dream will come true. This letter is about how we’ve found peace and joy with our situation, even though it didn’t turn out how we wanted.

The fact is, I cannot bear children. I don’t have the necessary female hardware to have a child the normal way. In preparation for IVF, my husband and I decided to follow our doctor’s advice to remove my closed, deformed Fallopian tubes, the pathway the fertilized egg takes from the ovary to the uterus. It was supposed to create a better chemical environment in my uterus for pregnancy. I have no Fallopian tubes which means that I cannot have biological children without IVF or surrogacy.

Over the past five years, my husband and I did five rounds of IVF with two embryos for each transfer and I miscarried them all. We tried various drugs, supplements, Chinese herbs, dietary changes, exercise restrictions, acupuncture, and lots of prayer to try and make my body work right, but nothing worked. I never made it past 8 weeks. God said “No”. We briefly considered surrogacy, but decided for various reasons not to go down that road.

Most people end their infertility journey with a beautiful baby or two or three in their arms with every hope for another should they decide their family’s not complete. Our story doesn’t end the way so many do, the way so many pray theirs will. Our infertility journey ended when we decided we were through. Through with the pills, through with the shots, through with the doctors visits, through with the ultrasounds, through with the complete loss of modesty. Through with the pain and isolation and stress and shame and endless roller coaster of excitement and sorrow. We just decided we didn’t want to do it anymore.

When we were in the midst of our fight, researching doctors and diets and old wives tales to get me pregnant, I couldn’t fathom never having a biological child. Throughout our journey, doctor after doctor told us IVF would work, that they saw no reason that it wouldn’t. But it didn’t and no one could ever figure out why. It will remain a mystery forever why my body didn’t work the way God designed the female body to work. In a world that needs reasons and information, we’ve found a way to be content with the unknown.

Let me tell you what I do know, over a year after our last transfer and miscarriage, a year after we decided not to have biological children. Life.Goes.On. Infertility is not the end of your story and not the end of the world. Infertility is just a season, and it will come to an end one way or another and each day, each doctors visit, each medical procedure, each prayer brings you closer and closer to the conclusion. Hang in there, sister. You can and will get through this.

I know you will get through this because you have to. There’s no other option but for you to keep moving forward, slogging through the pain and suffering, clinging to the joys and successes. Be patient with the journey and know that God is using your pain to grow your character, to transform you into the person He desires you to be. While you are focused on the end goal, God is working His magic in your heart and mind. Let Him. I can honestly say, looking back now that it’s over, I am thankful for my infertility because of the person it turned me into. I am so much stronger, wiser, and more content and I love God more than I could ever imagine. You will come out of this a very different person than when you started and that is a wonderful thing.

Whatever you do, don’t let bitterness take hold. Find something that brings you joy and do it. A lot. For me it was exercise, books, writing and music. A good playlist and a distracting book do wonders for the soul. Be gentle with yourself. I found myself hating my body for what it couldn’t do, thinking myself a failure every time I felt the familiar pangs of another miscarriage. There is a time to grieve and mourn, but don’t let the pain grow roots. It won’t serve you and will only isolate you more from those who love you. Satan wins when you wallow in your grief, but he’s utterly destroyed when you find joy in the midst of suffering.

It’s OK to be sad. It’s OK to be angry. It’s OK to feel jealousy when someone announces they’re pregnant after only a month of trying. Or to feel rage when you hear a story of a teen pregnancy or someone who doesn’t want their child. Or to want to claw the eyes out of the next person who tells you to “just relax and it’ll happen,” or “it’s all in God’s timing.” God is teaching you a valuable lesson with these encounters. Forgive, over and over and over again. Forgiveness frees your soul from bitterness and resentment. Make it a habit to internally forgive all comments made out of ignorance. Satan wants you to dwell on them and hold grudges; God wants you to forgive.

The truth is, this may not turn out how you want it to. You may never have a biological child. I fervently hope that you do, that your dream comes true and someday soon you can hold your precious little one in your arms, trying to decide who’s nose he or she has. The turning point for me was when I finally acknowledged, after three miscarriages, that perhaps a biological child wasn’t in God’s plan for me. It didn’t sit well at first, hardly more than a suppressed whisper in the depths of my mind, but it stewed and diffused and eventually saturated my thoughts until I had no choice but to acknowledge it.

I made the head decision that I didn’t need a biological child to be happy, didn’t need a biological child to fulfill my life, didn’t need a biological child to love God. I say head decision because my heart wasn’t there yet. I didn’t feel the truth of the words for a long time. I simply reminded myself every day that I would find happiness someday without a biological child. I didn’t need God to answer my prayers for me to be happy or for me to love Him. It took another year, two more miscarriages, still no answers, and reaching a crossroads in our journey for my head decision to pierce my heart.

Once we’d transferred all our embryos, we had two options. Try IVF with a different doctor or give up on our dreams of having biological children and pursue adoption, something we’d never considered until that moment. It felt like jumping off a cliff when we decided to see where the adoption path lead. Complete loss of control, zero knowledge of the process, no adoption experience whatsoever. Yet somehow in the middle of weighty life decisions, with only darkness and anguish behind and fear and fog ahead, I felt relief. I felt peace. I felt joy because I no longer had to go through the pain of miscarriage, the stress of medical procedures and special diets, the waiting and wondering and hoping and shame and self-hatred. I felt free.

Three months after our final miscarriage, we began the adoption process to adopt an infant domestically. We researched, asked questions, talked to other adoptive families, read books, filled out forms, and jumped through all the hoops to find ourselves active and waiting for the phone call that would end our childlessness forever. Seven months after our final miscarriage, that phone call came, and two weeks later we held our newborn son in our arms. I’d like to think that angels sang in the Heavens and God wept with joy, but down here on Earth all we experienced was sleep deprivation, spit up, crying, and fumbling around trying to figure out how to keep that tiny human alive. It seems it doesn’t matter when or how they come to you, parenting is parenting.

That’s what our story is truly about. It’s not a story of how we prayed and hoped and then God gave us what we wanted. It’s a story of perseverance, character building, patience, trust, and ultimately submission. Submission to God’s plan rather than our own. Sometimes they line up, but when they don’t only God’s will can prevail. All the while we suffered and waited, God was preparing us to be adoptive parents, preparing the birth family to carry the child He wanted us to raise. Preparing the entire journey to end up the way it did, far beyond anything we could ever imagine. You may not see what’s going on, but God is working on your behalf, preparing the way He means for your journey to go. Trust Him.

The most important lessons I learned from infertility were how to love God better. He shouldn’t have to answer all our prayers and give us what we want in order for us to love and trust Him. He loves us unconditionally and He wants the same from us in return. Without questions, without doubts, without limits. Our faith and trust is not in what He gives us, but in who He is. Our perfect Savior. Our loving Father. Our strong defender and gentle comforter. God is the same no matter what’s going on in our lives. Trust in that and not in your transient feelings. You don’t have to understand in order to trust God. God allowed Satan to send hardships and suffering to Job, but God knew how Job’s story would end.

Here’s the ultimate truth. God is Good. God is good even if you don’t get what you want. God is good even if life hurts. God is good even if you’re infertile. God is good not because of what we experience here on Earth, not because of our circumstances, but because of who He is and what He did for us on the Cross. Your heart may not always feel it, your head may try to deceive you and you may feel as if you’re shouting prayers into a dark silent void. I know I did. God is good in the silence. God is good in the waiting. God is good in the pain and suffering. I know it makes not sense right now, but I hope someday it will.

He loves you and He has good things in store for you, though it may not turn out how you imagined. God is so much more creative than we could ever be with our limited, finite knowledge. I wouldn’t trade our son, who shares zero DNA with us, for any biological child. He is exactly who was meant for us, and we for him. God knew exactly what He was doing all along, and only now after I’ve had time to reflect, and have a son who sleeps through the night, do I understand the truth of that.

You have no idea how this will end, how long you’ll be in this season, what it’ll require of you. Have courage and fight your fears with unconditional faith. There is light at the end of it, and it’s beautiful and perfect. Biological, adopted, foster, fun Aunt status, or no children whatsoever, everything will be just fine. The children meant for you will find their way to your arms. I have only joy in my heart about our story, only love for my son and my God and the journey it took to get here. Though scars remain and twinge from time to time, they remind me to trust God through the hard times, love and serve others He puts in my path, and let Him write the story rather than dictate my ideas to Him. There’s freedom in giving up control to the One who already wrote the ending.

Love and blessings to you as you walk this path. I’m excited to see how it ends!

Rachel

 

“There’s a Category 4 Hurricane heading right for you.” Believe it or not, that’s the second time in my life I’ve heard those words uttered in reference to somewhere I lived. Michael and I attended Tulane University in New Orleans and went through the experience of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. We evacuated with our respective athletic programs, Michael with the golf team to Houston and me with the soccer and football teams to Jackson, MS. They told us we would be gone a week and we packed accordingly. Once the levees broke and flooded the city, we knew we wouldn’t go back and spent that semester at temporary schools (SMU for Michael, Texas A&M for me) playing our seasons and attending classes.

So in October of last year, when the weather channel told us there was a Category 4 Hurricane heading right for Saint Simons Island, we didn’t hesitate. We didn’t care if the locals said they hadn’t had a hurricane in decades. We didn’t care if early forecasts predicted it would stay out at sea. We knew if there was even a chance we could take a direct hit and be stranded on our island with flooding, downed trees and no electricity or access to food or clean water, we couldn’t stay. Our experience with category 4 hurricanes was Katrina. My thought process was, “if I can’t come back here for the next 3 months, what do I need to have with me?”

We packed up important legal and financial documents, our wireless printer/copier/fax machine, a couple weeks worth of clothing and toiletries, computers, our cat Bubbles and all her accoutrements, Michael’s golf stuff and travel equipment since the Fall season was about to start, and all adoption paperwork since we were active and waiting and knew we could get matched at any moment. We put important things upstairs, brought in all our outdoor furniture and grill, put boards on the bottom level windows and unplugged electrical things on the first floor in case of flooding. At the last minute, I decided to bring any baby gear I had planned to take when we did get the phone call we were matched. At that point, we were waiting to hear back about several birth mom situations and new ones were presented to us every day. Ready for a direct hit, we left the island three days before it’s projected impact, traveling to Dalton, GA to stay with friends until further notice.

Further notice came in the form of a phone call on the same day Hurricane Matthew hit Saint Simons from several miles off shore. It wasn’t a direct hit, but enough to bring down trees, knock out electricity, damage the one bridge that serves the island, and close businesses and roads for about a week. We would’ve been stranded on the island for that time had we not left. Instead, we sat comfortably on our friends’ couch watching HGTV when the phone call came. A birth mom in Kansas picked us. We were matched and our baby boy was coming within the next 2 weeks if not sooner since she was already having contractions and dilating.

Anxiety and stress quickly followed our elation as we surveyed our situation. We had no idea what was happening to our house, the home we’d used to complete our homestudy. The hurricane was hitting our island the same day we got that call, and we had no idea when or if we’d be able to take our baby home to it. Thankfully, my Type A personality meant we had all the necessary paperwork and baby items to travel to get our child and complete the adoption, but after that we’d just have to wait and see. Our adoption social worker said we should wait until the next Monday to travel since the birth mom’s labor wasn’t really progressing and she had another prenatal appointment then.

On Monday, October 10, our social worker called to say the birth mom still wasn’t progressing and we shouldn’t travel yet. Michael was scheduled to play in Napa at the Safeway Open, and we decided to continue with that plan unless something changed. We packed up everything from our friends’ home in Dalton, Michael drove to Atlanta to fly to California for the tournament and I drove myself and our cat Bubbles to Washington DC to stay with my family. From opposite sides of the country, Michael and I continued to wait for the go ahead from the social worker to travel to Kansas.

We knew our birth mom was scheduled for a C section on October 19, so our little man would at least come by then, however if she dilated any more they would do the C section immediately. Several doctors appointments and no progress took us all the way to Friday the 14th and I couldn’t wait any longer. I hated the idea that my son could be born and I wouldn’t be there yet, or would be on a plane. I made the decision to travel to Kansas just in case the baby came sooner. Again, Type A me wanted to be there and prepare. I found us a Residence Inn, set up the room for a baby, bought groceries and diapers and outfits, found a dress and heels to wear before the judge who would sign off on the adoption once we had our son, and kept busy with books and movies and Netflix.

Michael missed the cut in Napa and immediately flew to Kansas to join me on Saturday. This proved to be a blessing as our birth mom, who previously told the social worker she didn’t want to meet us, decided she wanted to have dinner. And so, on Sunday October 16 we met the woman who carried our baby boy in her belly. She brought her friend and the four of us and our social worker had a lovely dinner and conversation at Applebees. It turned out her friend was adopted as well and had a great experience with his adoptive parents. At the end of the meal, he told our birth mom “you picked a good one, honey.”

Before we parted, she hugged me and I felt her full belly pressing into my empty one. Between us was a baby boy who knew nothing of what happened outside his cozy haven. Two women embracing in mutual love for a child. That was the first time I felt any sort of claim over him, the first time I started to think of him as ours. I could see and feel her tummy and know he was in there, just a few inches away. I’d prayed over the months for a nameless, faceless healthy birth mom and baby, but now I prayed for this birth mom and that baby boy who we’d meet any day.

She invited us to her prenatal appointment the next day and we got to hear Jace’s heartbeat for the first time and see him on a sonogram. The doctor took some pictures for us and our birth mom gave us sonogram pictures from earlier in the pregnancy. I couldn’t believe how loving and gracious she was to us when she was already giving us an enormous gift at her own expense. Our birth mom genuinely seemed eager to involve us all of a sudden after not wanting to meet us in the first place. We relished any time she allowed us to be with her, wanting to love her well and show her Christ through our words and actions. If that’s all we were able to do, we knew it’d be enough.

The delicate thing about adoption is that until the birth parents sign the relinquishment papers, they are still the baby’s parents and can change their minds at any moment. We knew in the back of our minds that no matter what impression we made on our birth mom or how much we loved on her, she could still decide to keep the baby, and so we tried to maintain some emotional distance. Our focus was on getting to know her better and loving her the way Christ loves us. If she did turn out to be our birth mom, we knew we’d be bonded with her forever.

You see, we came into adoption focused on Christ and not on our quest to have a baby. We decided that any phone call, any face to face meeting, any interaction with a birth mom at all was a perfect opportunity to share God’s love. These women were considering adoption for a reason, and no matter the reason they deserved to hear about how much God loves them. What a precious creation they were in His eyes. No matter the life circumstance, God’s love is constant and steadfast. What if we were the only people ever to speak this truth into their lives? God gave us a purpose beyond growing our family and because of this, we didn’t fear failure.

Adoption involves so may factors that are out of our control. A social worker has to decide our fitness for parenting. A birth mom has to pick us from hundreds of other families based on a 15 page book of pictures and exposition. A baby has to be born. A birth family has to decide to sign the papers. In our case, a birth father had to be found and his parental rights terminated. A state has to sign off on us going home. A judge has to declare us parents to our child. A social worker has to follow up to determine the child’s well-being. It’s a long, arduous process that can wear on even the heartiest souls. Time and time again I thought we’d fail. As each new barrier approached, I figured this would be what sent the whole train off the tracks.

But when God steers the train, no barrier can stop Him. Such was the case with our adoption. Three weeks after becoming active, I found myself in an operating room experiencing the birth of my son via C section. Our birth mom decided at the last minute that she wanted me in the operating room instead of the social worker. She didn’t want me to watch the operation, but she told me she wanted me to experience the birth of our son because it’s something I’d never be able to do myself. We both cried the whole time and held hands. She let me cut the cord. While they were taking care of her, I watched them clean him and weigh him, bundle him up and put a tiny hat on his head and then the nurse handed him to me and I held my son for the first time. After an ectopic pregnancy and five miscarriages, here at last was the child God intended for us.

Our birth mom was adamant that he should go directly to me and Michael the second he came out so we could all start the bonding process right away. Again, her selflessness astounded me. Having heard her story I knew there was no way she could care for the baby, but the fact that she put her son’s needs first at every turn showed just how much she loved him and I loved her even more for loving him and taking such good care of him while she could.

We all stayed in the hospital for three days while our birth mom recovered and doctors and nurses tended to Jace’s newborn needs. He passed his hearing test, got circumcised, and went through a battery of blood tests. We cared for him from day one, feeding every two hours, catching pockets of sleep, foregoing showers and meals at times to just sit and stare at him. We visited with our birth mom often and let her spend time with Jace, but she remained firm in her desire for him to bond with us and only kept him for small amounts of time.

Finally, it was time for her to sign over her parental rights to us. We weren’t concerned she would change her mind based on her actions and words thus far, but you never know what someone will do when they’re finally at the moment where they have to make a decision. She did make things more difficult than we hoped. She wanted to have more contact with us than we’d originally agreed upon, wanted to know our last name and what state we lived in (details usually not shared in a semi-open adoption), and wanted very specific wording in the documents she would sign. We agreed to certain things and not others, talked to our adoption consultant who assuaged our fears and finally left the social workers, counselors, and our birth mom alone to work everything out. We holed up in our hospital room with Jace, not knowing how things were going or when we’d hear some news.

No one came in to update us. We waited anxiously to hear whether Jace would be ours or she’d changed her mind. At any moment, life would forever change or we would go home empty handed as we had so many times before with IVF. Those same fears creeped into my mind as time dragged on, except this time I’d had a real taste of motherhood holding him in my arms. I calmed myself by saying that even if these first few days of Jace’s life were all I had with him, I’d done what God needed me to do and cared for His creation. Infertility taught me that all children are gifts from God, placed in our care to raise for His glory.

It took four painstaking hours until we heard a soft knock on the door. I held Jace in my arms at the time and Michael opened the door. Our birth mom strode right up to me and hugged me, saying “Congratulations Mom and Dad.” I broke down in her arms and couldn’t stop the heavy tears from falling. Michael joined the embrace, the four of us suddenly family forever. Ironically, the only one not crying was the baby.

And that was the end and the beginning. Suddenly our infertility saga was over. A new journey began the second our birth mom hugged us and told us we were parents. There were still other logistics to work out, a birth father to find, papers to be signed, a court date to keep with the judge, and lots more paperwork for our adoption lawyers to complete before the adoption was finalized. All we cared about was that we had a healthy son and we’d do whatever it took to keep him alive and complete the legal process of making him ours forever.

On October 21, we became parents. On December 20, the adoption was finalized and Jace became ours forever. God works everything together for His glory and our good. On March 2, exactly one year after our final miscarriage, we received Jace’s new birth certificate with our names as his parents. A piece of paper to sum up five years of strife and sorrow washed away and made new. A piece of paper to remind us of God’s faithfulness, to show us that He walked alongside us the entire way as we tried and failed and got back up.

Jace is now five months old and I’m finally finding time to reflect on everything now that the holidays, tax season, and the adjustment of caring for a newborn are over. And I sit in awe of the story God weaved. Looking back, I can see how He worked everything together, bad and good, to bring Jace to us. From the beginning when we decided to start trying for a baby in March of 2012 to the end of holding that birth certificate in March of 2017, God orchestrated the entire story to shatter expectations, change hearts, grow faith, and reveal Himself more and more.

I stand in awe too of our birth mother, who I’ve sent several updates and pictures to and hope to have contact with someday if she’s willing, though I know she has her own journey to follow. She did the thing that I could not, carried a child to term, and now it’s my turn to do what she cannot and raise him to manhood. We were two broken people with jagged edges looking for our compliment and God saw fit to unite us. Together we make a whole that results in life for a child. That is our adoption story. And it’s only the beginning…

Matthew 18:5, 1 Samuel 1:27, Philippians 1:6

Today I took a shower. For most of you, that isn’t much of a feat. It’s normal for a person to bathe daily, though I’m told unwashed hair holds styling better, but this isn’t a fashion blog and I don’t do any styling to my hair anyway. It may have only been 5 minutes, but today I took a shower and for me that was a huge accomplishment. Because I’m a new mom now. I have a son.

Just typing those words feels surreal. This blog has been all about infertility, perseverance through adversity and firm faith, and then adoption, obedience, trust, and patience, but now we’ve passed from the family planning season to the parenting season in what seems like a blink of an eye.

It’s amazing to think of how quickly things progressed once we decided not to continue with IVF. In March, our last IVF cycle failed. In July we started the adoption process. And in October, our son was born and we brought him home. A series of big decisions and lots of hard work brought us to the moment our son became ours 7 months after my final miscarriage. Did all this really happen in just 7 months?

No, it didn’t only take 7 months. It took 31 years. It took eons. God had all this planned out, written in His book before time began. It’s been amazing to look back over my entire life and realize everything I’ve ever done, everything that’s ever happened to me was to prepare me to be Jace’s mom. To prepare Michael to be Jace’s dad. To grow our faith, to strengthen our marriage, to mature and mold us into the people God wanted to use to parent His son Jace here on earth. We’ve done nothing but marvel at God’s sovereignty, power, and goodness since Jace became ours.

Now he sleeps soundly, swaddled in his nursery, monitor turned up, humidifier steaming, sound machine on full blast, salt lamp softly glowing, probably loading another nasty diaper for his middle of the night feed. I thank God for those foul diapers because they mean Jace is healthy. I find myself constantly thanking God all day for things like burping and tooting and poop. Oh to be a baby and get praised for passing gas.

I’m planning to continue writing, maybe about the challenges of parenting. Any parent knows there’s plenty of material for that subject. I also want to shed more light on adoption, advocate for it as an option not only to grow a family, but also for women experiencing an unwanted pregnancy in a world that’s quickly forgetting the sanctity of human life. My next blog will be about our adoption story and how it all went down.

Adoption gives a child to a family and a family to a child. Adoption brings together people who are lacking something and through their relationship creates a whole. For us, what started out as a quest for us to have a child, turned into a quest to give ourselves to a child. And once Jace was in our arms, he became ours to love, protect, nurture, raise, discipline, and encourage. We adopted him, meaning another woman gave birth to him and gave him to us, but we accepted him into our family unconditionally and now he’s just our son, part of our family forever no matter where he goes or what he does. Sounds familiar…

There’s been a major shift in my focus over the last week or so. Once we turned in all our adoption paperwork, there were several days of peace and excitement at the prospects of getting matched and traveling to get our baby (or babies, or children as it may turn out). Yet a few days ago, I realized what completing our adoption paperwork really meant and I’ll be honest, I had a mini-breakdown as anxiety over my inadequacy rushed in. I realized that completing all our paperwork meant there was nothing standing in the way of being matched and getting a baby. Nothing between us and becoming parents. Nothing except waiting for a mother who loves her child beyond comprehension to choose us to be the parents. I feel so hopelessly unprepared.

It seems every time we reached a milestone in the adoption process, contacting the adoption agency, meeting with our homestudy social worker, turning in our homestudy paperwork, completing our profile book, getting homestudy approved, and now sending off our final adoption paperwork before we begin presenting, I hit a roadblock where I considered not moving forward. I know it sounds crazy, but in the interest of full disclosure and vulnerability, reaching those pivotal moments in the process welled up fear, doubts, sometimes anger at the grueling journey, and uncertainty about whether we should continue. It always happened right before we were about to act, right before I mailed something or set up an appointment or made a phone call. As if some invisible forcefield blurred the outcome of my actions. My control issues, wanting to know how the story ends before reading the book, aroused a fear of failure that threatened to paralyze me more times than I care to admit.

But our IVF struggles were not in vain. The lessons learned equipped us to battle today’s supernatural attacks. Every arrow from the enemy is meant to trip us up and throw us off balance, to distract us from God’s light and power. I know God allows these sometimes, wanting us to continually choose Him, though I’m sure He spares us from more than we know. When I recognize those arrows of fear and doubt embedded in my soul, I’ve learned to immediately to run towards God through prayer, spiritual music, and scripture, knowing only He can root them out of me and restore peace and confidence. I thank my Heavenly Father for providing an outlet for my weakness through prayer and He’s imbued me with His strength to press on every time I’ve faltered. God straps His spiritual armor around us and we move on to the next step in the journey.

So how has my focus shifted over the last week, at home by myself as Michael begins the Web.com finals? Well in addition to completing my Physical Therapy continuing education (which I left to the 11th hour) and getting caught up on our financial spreadsheets and QuickBooks (wait what year is it again?), I’ve realized all my study has been on the adoption process, getting my mind right as an adoptive mother, understanding the complexities involved in the various relationships created through adoption, and preparing our hearts for the possibility of having a multi-racial family and what the world will throw at us as a result. But something huge came to the forefront a few days after the trip to the UPS store, our final adoption paperwork overnighted.

Any moment we could become parents. It could happen next week, it could happen next month, it could happen next year. It could happen on Christmas, it could happen in the middle of the Masters, it could happen while we’re traveling overseas. It could happen in the wee hours of the night or in the middle of a yoga class or while Michael and I are apart. It could happen with a mama who has months left in her pregnancy or with a baby already born. It could happen with a newborn or an infant or a toddler, or some combination thereof. It could happen in any state, at any time, in any possible way. I feel like a Dr Seuss book right now, but the point is we will soon be parents. How the heck do you do that?

When a couple finds out they’re pregnant, once the initial excitement and emotion die down, they realize that in 9 months they will be parents. In 9 months they will be completely responsible for the needs of another human being, even to the point of holding their head up. Oh and by the way, said human can’t tell them what’s wrong or what they need like “Mother, my diaper seems to have a full load. It’s very uncomfortable and I have more in there I’d like to relieve. Would you be so kind as to supply me with a new one?” The parents have to decipher the same sound the child makes for every discomfort. If those needs aren’t met, the little human dies.

Reactions to this vary. Some people wing it, which I applaud since I’d never have the courage to do that, and others buy every parenting book in the store in hopes of knowing the perfect formula for raising children. Kids seem to turn out fine from either response. I’m a book person and I love to learn, so I know if I’d ever had 9 months to prepare I would’ve been the latter. But God didn’t give me 9 months to prepare (or perhaps He has; it’s beautiful not knowing). I have no idea how much time I have, but I know we are in essence “expecting” and it’s time to start thinking like an expectant mommy and daddy.

I always hesitated to read parenting books during IVF because I didn’t want to “jinx” something that could end up in heartbreak. I focused more on books about grief, suffering, healing, and other women’s stories of IVF failures and how they moved past them. I never felt an urgency to prepare for parenthood, probably because I always thought if IVF worked then we would have 9 months to plan like everyone else. I think God needed me to learn other things like dependence, obedience, compassion, grace, and acceptance of His will during those years.

When I was in college, I studied really hard for every test. I procrastinated until the last few days and always pulled a couple all nighters so I felt prepared going into it. After months of hearing and reading the material, the urgency of finally having to apply it caught up and propelled me into fervent action. The method never failed me and it seems that’s what I’ve done with parenting. I’ve “studied” how my friends and family parent, gotten some hands on experience, asked questions and gathered information, but never had to put it into practice, never had to apply it and show mastery. My college tactics are rearing their ugly heads, making me feel unprepared and inadequate.

There are thousands of resources out there for childcare and parenting techniques. How does one wrap their head around all the possibilities and choose the methods that work for them? I’m thankful we have great examples of amazing parents all around us, all who’ve given great advice we will use, but I want to go directly to the source of it all, right to the basic foundation. There’s One from which all wisdom and perfect knowledge flow. One who provides the perfect standards and principles. One who created family and sustains family. You all know where this is headed.

We want to know what God has to say. We want Him to teach us and guide us as we begin this new season of parenthood, whenever that may happen. We know He’s put lots of mentors and peers in our lives to help support and advise us, but we always want to follow His guidance, even if it differs from other people.

God parents we His children; He is the gold standard. He loves and nurtures and blesses. He challenges and disciplines and comforts. He sacrifices. He provides. He makes us work, allows us to lose, and grows our character through suffering. He delights in our joys and cries our tears right alongside us. At the end of the day, His love never fails no matter how often we do, and He always provides for our needs even if they differ from our wants. We can never be perfect like Him, but only with His spirit within us can we translate His method to how we parent the children He entrusts to our care.

At church, I always like to go over to the bookstore and see if there’s anything that catches my eye. Cause I’m a nerd like that. I wasn’t looking for anything specific (this was still during the excitement period right after mailing in our adoption paperwork. No anxiety yet). The first thing I saw on the shelf was Gary Thomas’ Sacred Parenting. I read Sacred Marriage right before Michael and I were married and loved it. Seeing that book must’ve triggered something because later in the day, anxiety set in. It took a few days of wrestling on my own, I’m still sinful after all, before I turned to God for help. He reminded me of the book and I immediately procured it along with two other books recommended to me by friends in the past. With nothing else on my literary docket, I decided to do what I do best and start multiple books at one time. Nerd, remember?

Along with Sacred Parenting, I’m also reading Ted Tripp’s Shepherding a Child’s Heart and Moms on Call (basic baby and infant care books). I’m reading a chapter at a time and loving how they all address different needs but seamlessly work together. Sacred Parenting discusses how the complex task of parenting grows us parents closer to God and makes us more like Jesus. Shepherding a Child’s Heart talks about making the Gospel central to our parenting style and focusing on the child’s heart and soul. Moms on Call will be my constant companion going forward as I worry over every sneeze and whimper while my child’s too little to tell me with words what’s wrong. I’m trying to read a chapter a day in each book and letting that be enough. I know God’s in control so I don’t have to be and that’s comforting.

God’s calmed my anxiety over feeling like I need to “pull an all-nighter” to prepare for the test of parenthood. I’ve prayed for God’s peace and reminded myself of the FACT that God’s been coaching me and Michael for adoption and parenthood since we were born, through life experience. He knew before time began that this would be our path. Childhood, our own parents and families and friends, college, marriage, even IVF were all a part of setting us up for this journey. And once those children are in our care, I know He will give us everything we need and lead us where we should go to help our children fulfill their own destinies. God provides and God sustains.

So, I guess this means I’m nesting? I’m reading my books and I have our nursery set up with the bare minimum a child needs according to other parents and Pinterest. I’ve tried really hard to use things we already have and friends and family have given us their hand-me-downs which we’re very grateful for. We have a friend-donated pack-n-play set up in lieu of a crib so our kid gets used to what he or she will sleep in on the road. We’ve declined baby showers, not because we don’t want to celebrate or accept our friends’ and families’ help, but because we’d rather wait until we have our child or children so we know what we need. We have no clothes, no diapers, nothing that hints at the age or gender or race of the child we’re adopting since we have no idea who he or she or they will be. Thank God for Target and Amazon Prime. If we end up with a Stork Drop, where they say “get in the car or on a plane NOW and come get your baby,” those resources will prove invaluable.

Overall, I think parenting is God putting people together in familial relationship to grow one another. Yes, the parents have authority until their children grow up, but mom and dad are learning and growing just as much as junior. We have to allow that God will mature us through the parenting process and submit ourselves into His potter’s hands. We aren’t under any notion that we’ll have it all figured out before baby comes or that we’ll do everything perfectly and raise perfect children. We know God has a purpose and plan for our children’s lives, will put them in our care for a reason, and their lives will have far greater reach and impact than we can ever know.

Whether adopted or biological, already in the world or still growing in the womb, all children need parents. We may not know much about our kids right now, but we do know that God is in headship over our household and He’ll ask us to parent whatever children He intended for us before time began. No matter their age, race, gender, or the circumstances of their past, they’re His beautiful creation in need of guidance, love, discipline, and nurturing with the understanding that we’re helping prepare them for Heaven, just like He’s preparing us. We’re thankful for the opportunity to enter this next season and look forward to how He will use us to influence the world for Him.

Proverbs 22:6, Deuteronomy 11:19, 1 Chronicles 28:9, Ephesians 6:4, Proverbs 19:18, Deuteronomy 4:9, Matthew 19:13-14

“I know it’s going to work for you. You just have to be patient and wait for God’s timing. And if it doesn’t work out, you can just adopt.”

I have no idea how many times I heard that very phrase during our struggles to get pregnant. I know it always came from good intentions and kind hearts, and so I just smiled and nodded. If you’ve never experienced infertility, such a phrase would seem harmless, encouraging, and hopeful. That very notion allowed be to forgive over and over the people who uttered it and not let bitterness take root. I know they wanted to help.

Just. It’s a seemingly innocuous word, translating to “merely” or “simply.” As if it’s easy to put my body through hundreds of shots and pills in an effort to sustain a pregnancy, and still miscarry over and over. As if it’s easy to patiently wait in a painful season for God’s plan and purpose to be revealed. As if it’s easy to get a baby from another family on a whim. I find the word “just” minimizes a situation or a feeling, making it seem unimportant or no big deal, when in reality it’s actually huge and hard and scary.

What does it mean to “just” adopt? Adoption isn’t something you “just” do. It can’t be entered into lightly, without a stout mind and stalwart spirit. It takes hard work, it takes sacrifice, it takes perseverance, and it takes patience. And that’s all before you even get a child. I have no idea what will be required of us once that child is in our family. No, adoption is not “just” anything. Adoption is enormous and complex and life-altering. What does adoption really mean?

It means a woman has to give a child she’s carried and grown for 9 months to another woman to raise. This fact alone was the first mental hurdle I had to navigate before I could start feeling OK about adoption. I couldn’t fathom that for me to gain something so precious, another woman had to lose something even more precious. No matter the circumstances of the woman’s life, it’s still a loss, still a selfless sacrifice for the good of her child. I hope whatever our birth families stories, we can show them God’s big love and express our unending gratitude. Adoption creates a family.

It means giving up the dream of carrying a child in my own tummy, giving up the dream of a biological child with physical characteristics of me and Michael. We can’t have children naturally. I don’t have any Fallopian tubes, which means my eggs can’t get to my uterus. I’ve heard so many times the stories of couples who adopt and then find out their pregnant. That is not a hope of ours and we are fine with that. Adoption shows us it’s not our plan, but God’s plan that prevails. And it is perfect.

It means having our home and lives put under a microscope, observed and scrutinized by countless people who determine our fitness as parents. It means sucking up our pride and graciously answering question after question as we’re interviewed by social workers, agency workers, doctors, lawyers, judges, and various other people gathering every minute detail about us to assess the safety of our home, the strength of our marriage, and our readiness and motivations to be parents. God definitely revealed my pride and arrogance through this process. Adoption humbles you.

It means doing hundreds of pages of paperwork and signatures, FBI, state and local background checks, letters of recommendation from family and friends, at least 100 pictures for a profile book, medical reports, drug screenings, HIV and Tuberculosis testing, agency applications, pet vaccinations, copies of drivers licenses, marriage licenses, birth certificates, social security cards, and passports, employment verifications, financial statements showing exactly how much money you bring in and spend every month, tax returns, health and car insurance verification, and anything else you can think of to show we are US citizens, in good health, law-abiding, gainfully employed, financially stable, and a safe environment for children. And if one thing doesn’t look right, our dreams of having children would be dashed. Adoption has made us thankful for all His blessings and shown us how God has been preparing us for this journey our entire lives. He is the weaver.

It means writing pages and pages of self-study questions answered by both me and Michael separately about our parenting style, discipline techniques, motivation to adopt, childhood experiences, family history, general health, marriage, infertility struggles, experience with kids, job satisfaction, goals for the future, hobbies and activities we enjoy, plans for our kids future, perceived strengths and weaknesses, religious beliefs, etc etc. We also have to give ideas about how we would handle situations that may arise from parenting children of a different race. Adoption forced us to discuss how we want to parent and discipline, our goals for the future, and brought up racial issues we’ve never had to think about. Adoption prepared us for parenting.

It means entering into an agreement with a birth family, knowing they could change their mind at any moment before the papers are signed. It means having to parent a child we didn’t have 9 months to get ready for, who doesn’t share any DNA with us, and who may have a heritage very different from our own. It means letting other people determine our fitness as parents and when our child becomes our child. It means not knowing when our child will enter the world or if he or she’s already here. It means not knowing his or her age, gender, ethnicity, family history, conception details, womb environment, and prenatal care. It means waiting a day, a week, a year, several years, some unknown period of time for our child to find our arms. Adoption means loss of control, something I’ve wrestled with God over my entire life. Adoption requires complete dependence on God’s timing and God’s plans to prosper and not to harm, to give hope and a future.

It means having to answer questions about where our adopted children came from, why they were given up for adoption, and their heritage. It means putting our own desires aside to provide for a child who’s completely dependent on our love and care to survive and thrive, no matter the circumstances that brought them to us. It means raising them up to know their identity comes from God, and in Him all people are loved and desired and accepted and valued. It means absorbing every hurtful comment, every thoughtless action that comes our way as we advocate for our children and give them a safe, secure environment to grow up in and launch from as they navigate this chaotic, judgmental world. Adoption means fighting battles we didn’t know existed, spreading love, courage and acceptance in a world that thrives on violence, and standing firm in the foundation of our God who provides for our every need.

Adoption is not “just” me and Michael getting a baby. Adoption takes an army of people, a mountain of time, and a torrent of sacrifice to achieve. Adoption has taken as much blood, sweat, tears, perseverance, patience, and growth as IVF did. I’m not making that up. We’ve been at this since June, and we still aren’t presenting to birth families yet. It’s a long, difficult process with all the same uncertainty as IVF, except in this case we could end up with failed match after failed match (meaning the birth family decides to parent at the last minute), rather than miscarriages.

Through all of it, we cling to our hope in the Lord. Everything we’ve done for our adoption journey so far has worked out, doors have opened, and so we know we’re following God’s plan. We have no doubt that He designed us to parent adopted children, and when fear and uncertainty creep in from the enemy’s attacks, we remember Philippians 1:6 where Paul writes “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Christ Jesus.”

God began this work in us the second we decided to start a family. He comforted us through our IVF failures, grew us in our pain, matured our faith, strengthened our marriage, deepened our compassion, and turned us into the kind of parents adoptive children need. We’re excited to see how He “brings it to completion,” knowing that the end of this journey will “just” be the beginning of a new one.

Isaiah 40: 29-31, Matthew 11: 28-29, Romans 8:28, Jeremiah 29:11

It’s been a while, I know. We’ve been so busy finalizing the sale of our house, traveling for golf, and finally getting started with the adoption process in addition to the day-to-day routine of life. We’ve also done some traveling outside of golf, spending a week in Phoenix visiting with family before Michael’s brother was deployed to South Korea, supporting Michael’s junior tournament in Tucson, and spending time with family and friends in various parts of the country. I’ve had many visitors to Saint Simons as well. Apparently people are more likely to come see us in our tiny beach town than in Birmingham. Who knew…

I spent PGA Championship weekend in Fort Worth, TX on a mission trip with my sister-in-law serving and ministering to refugees from all over the world. This blog isn’t about the trip itself, which was life-changing, but about comments one woman who served with us made about me after the trip. I knew no one going into the weekend except my sister, but God squelched my introvert self all weekend and by the end, they were hugging me, exchanging contact information, and inviting me to future mission trips.

We debriefed Sunday morning, putting each of us in a “hot seat” within our circle and recapping specific things we loved about that person we’d seen during the trip. One woman made an observation about me that sums up our entire infertility journey. Here was a woman I’d never met before that Thursday, who didn’t see us go through valley after valley of disappointment, who hadn’t witnessed any part of our saga. But her words spoke to my soul… “You are so content with where you are in your life.”

It’s something I prayed for all throughout our struggles to conceive. I prayed for God to take away our desires to have a child, for God to change our situation, for God to show me what I was doing wrong, and finally for God to make me content. If only she knew how God breathed those words into her to say to me. If only she knew how long it had taken for her observation to be true. If only she knew what I’d suffered to learn that lesson. Oh honey, if only you knew what I went through to get here!

The first thing I did when our mission trip started was stand up in front of 25 people and give my testimony. I hate public speaking and I’ve never given my testimony like that…ever. But when our leader asked for volunteers to share their testimony to the group, my hand went up and I volunteered first. I honestly have no idea what I was thinking, except that no one knew me and I needed them to. I’m usually one of those people who sinks down in my chair and hopes someone else gets called on, but God had other plans and I found myself publicly sharing my life-story and how I came to love and serve the Lord.


In the first few sentences, I told them I cannot have biological children. I told them our long arduous path to that point. I wanted them to see that I was open and honest about my situation, unafraid of my lot in life, joyful about our adoption plans, willing to share any and all details, and content with the season Michael and I are in right now. That’s the word…content. It means “satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else.” Another dictionary includes “willing” in the definition.

Contentment came not because God answered our prayers and not because we were satisfied that we turned over every stone to have a biological child. Contentment came from acceptance of our infertility, faith in His goodness and love for us despite not getting what we wanted, declaration of our love for Him no matter our circumstances, and then prayers of trust in His plan. All we did was surrender to Him, faith without sight, and He changed our hearts. Acceptance, faith, love, prayers, trust, surrender. All we can do in tough situations…and wait. Easier said than done though. Let me tell you how it started…

At some point in the last year, I declared in the tiny recesses of my own mind, so softly I hardly believed I uttered it, that I didn’t need a biological child to be happy. I didn’t need God to give me what I wanted to be happy. I didn’t even need Him to answer my prayers. All I needed was to know I had HIM. I didn’t believe my own words at the time, didn’t feel them, but I repeated them over and over to myself anyway. As time went on, this declaration became a daily mantra which turned into confident belief. Suddenly biological children became less and less important, and faith in God no matter my circumstances grew until head knowledge became heart knowledge.

That’s where my contentment comes from…my faith. It’s supreme confidence that God know what He’s doing whether I understand or not. It rests not on circumstances (which change daily), but on what the Bible says about who God is and the fact that I have personal access to Him. Faith allows me to trust God without sight, without experience, without understanding. Non-believers will think I’m crazy, ignorant, stupid, naive, blind to real life, etc, but I don’t really care what people think of my faith because I’m not trying to please anyone but God. All I care about is that HE is well pleased.

And even if I never in my lifetime see the fruition of my faith, I know it’s securing me a place in His kingdom and that’s what I really hope for. I can’t take anything I have on Earth to Heaven, not my possessions, not my family and friends, and not my children. And so, my purpose on Earth changes from what pleases me to what pleases God. If He needs me to parent children, He will send them to me. If He needs me to write a book, He will give me the words and desire and lead me in that direction. Whatever He needs me for, He will bring together the people and circumstances to make that happen. Contentment is letting Him lead the way and being willing for whatever He needs.

He didn’t give us a biological baby, but He gave us contentment. He gave us peace. He gave us joy. He gave us strength. He humbled us. He taught us what it means that He is sufficient for all our needs. He showed us our lives have great purpose for His kingdom. He prepared us for the amazing journey ahead. He brought us out of our misery and into exultation. And now He needs us to walk into the fog, holding His hand for guidance. There are so many unknowns, so many uncontrollables with adoption, but we know it’s God’s plan, He’s made it extremely clear, and so we move confidently forward.

For our family, IVF and Adoption have been night and day. I know IVF works for people, I’ve heard countless stories of its success, always praying my own story would one day add to the ranks. However that wasn’t our experience. Our IVF journey was utter darkness, a never-ending starless night. Shame, guilt, sorrow, anger, resignation, exhaustion, fear. No progress, no joy, cosmic silence.

Our adoption experience, even before finding our child, has been resplendent. Light, fresh air, a peaceful lake under the rising sun, GOD EVERYWHERE. Where IVF preyed on our insecurities, giving the enemy access to whisper his lies, adoption has felt like being cloaked in God’s armor, confident in His power and plan. It’s like our decision to adopt was the ultimate “Screw you, Satan,” the final vanquishing blow to the Screwtape’s scheme. Only by jumping off the IVF tracks and catching the train towards adoption did God bring acceptance, deep joy, and contentment.

Where IVF isolated us, adoption has brought us community. Where IVF fell squarely on our shoulders, countless others have joined our adoption story. We’ve shared with everyone we meet that we are adopting, even perfect strangers who ask whether we have kids. Everyone asks where we are in the process, what kind of child we are waiting for, how it all works. The excitement is palpable all around us. Some are watching to see how the process goes for us before they start their own adoption plans. We’re setting the stage for something big, I can feel it.

Where IVF turned people in the other direction, adoption brings them closer. Some have gotten us in touch with people they know who’ve adopted. Some have written letters of recommendation for us. We’ve had to ask for help from police officers, doctors and nurses, insurance providers, even our accountant. We’ve told them all we are adopting and everyone has gone above and beyond to help us. Adoption is fellowship.

Our IVF story feels a million miles away, part of our past that has no impact over the direction of our future. Most importantly, it’s part of our faith story, part of our testimony we will share with others to show them what God has done for us. Without infertility, without IVF, we wouldn’t be who we are today. We wouldn’t be walking this road towards adoption. We wouldn’t have the faith God could only grow through suffering. I hope someday I can look at our children and appreciate what it took to find them. I’ll remember that God created the day to follow the night, and whoever they are will be exactly who we’ve waited for all along.

1 Samuel 1:27, Genesis 1:5, 1 Thessalonians 5:5,8

A week ago, finding ourselves unusually unencumbered on a beautiful sunny southeast Georgia Sunday, Michael and I decided to go to the beach for the afternoon. We live only 3 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, yet hardly ever indulge in lazy weekends given the nature of our work. However this particular day offered quiet respite from our hectic unpredictable schedule, and so we packed our books and sunblock, donned our bathing suits and headed out to activate some Vitamin D.

We set up on a couple of beach chairs under a green umbrella, unrolled our striped towels and planned to settle in for an afternoon devoted to the soul portion of our well-beings. Having experienced a significant sunburn several weeks ago in Puerto Rico, I opted to avoid sun exposure completely that day, instead seeking to enjoy the sounds of the waves crashing, sea gulls shrieking, children laughing.

If you know me, you know I hardly ever go in the water at the beach. I usually just set up a towel or a chair and lay in the warm sun reading a book or listening to music, occasionally walking in the surf a short ways searching for interesting shells. I have no idea what inspired me this particular day, but instead of remaining safely ensconced in my natural habitat, I ventured out to check the water temperature.

The Southeast Georgia coast is one of the largest breeding grounds in the world for sharks. To avoid giving some hungry tiger shark a free meal, I ambulated the 30 feet or so from our base camp only to the edge of the surf, allowing what turned out to be mildly chilly water to sluice over my feet. The 5 second journey proved quite remarkable. It wasn’t a triangular fin or the water temperature that caught my attention however, for in the 30 foot walk from my safe zone to my destination, I must’ve counted about 10 purple sand dollars at various levels of sand submersion.

I grew up going to the beach with my family and finding sand dollars, especially whole ones, was a rare occurrence. Finding one always gave great cause for excitement, so you can imagine my astonishment at unearthing such a bounty. I swiftly retraced my steps and pulled Michael out of his iPhone haze to come see my bonanza. Upon inspection, we discovered they were live sand dollars with minuscule tentacles on the underside, gyrating to catch purchase to bury themselves deeper in the sodden sand. We decided to take a walk to the end of the beach together instead of lazing under our umbrella.

Once we started seeing sand dollars, we couldn’t not see them. They were everywhere. Hundreds of sand dollars, some on top of the sand baking in the afternoon sun, others partially hidden, and many creating tell-tale cookie sized mounds seeking refuge from the scorching sun’s rays. We also found a few beige specimens, devoid of tentacles, that we surmised were remnants of past lives. We pocketed them and I vowed to Pinterest how to make them pearly white like the ones in all the souvenir stores. Apparently it requires water, bleach, Elmer’s glue, and a paintbrush FYI.

We chatted with other beach-goers about the sand dollars and they were just as excited as we were. My biology brain wondered what ecological reason they had for being there in such large numbers. At first, we thought we should toss them back into the ocean so they wouldn’t die from heat exhaustion and dehydration. However, one passerby smartly pointed out that they probably were here for a reason and Google informed us that sand dollar reproduction occurred in spring and summer and they burrow in sand so the waves don’t toss them around; so we decided to just take home the ones we could and otherwise just enjoy the new unexpected experience.

One of the first things we had to think about when we decided to adopt was what kind of adoption we wanted to do. There’s domestic (from here in the US) or international. If we choose international, we have to decide what country. There’s infant adoption (newborn to 12 months), toddler adoption, child adoption, teenager adoption. There’s open adoption, semi-open, and closed adoption (how much contact you have with the birth family). There’s intra-state (within your state of residence) and inter-state (from another state). There’s agency adoption, private adoption through a lawyer, adoption from the foster care system. There’s single adoption, multiple adoption, sibling adoption. There’s trans-racial adoption, special needs adoption, adoption of babies exposed to drugs and alcohol, adoption of babies without prenatal care, and so on and so on. There’s so many choices to consider, decisions that have to be made about what child (or children) you are willing to adopt, it can get overwhelming.

We also have people asking us questions about these choices and decisions, interjecting their own thoughts, experiences and opinions. When we tell people what we’re thinking, some nod their heads and understand and support, others wonder why we choose that and not something else. So far we haven’t experienced any resistance to our choices, but we know some might scoff at them and we hope we can respond gracefully and firmly. We’re so grateful for everyone’s input, solicited or unsolicited, but we know no matter what anyone says, the decisions are ultimately up to me and Michael. Although others will help in the care and love of our children, at the end of the day God entrusts them to us and they’re our responsibility.

There are a lot of children in need of families all over the world, including unborn children whose parents are trying to decide whether to give them life or not. When most people picture adoption, they see a family going to a foreign country and bringing home an orphan. Others advocate for adopting from foster care, wondering why people go get children from overseas when there are plenty of kids who need homes right here in the US. Not many people think of adopting from a pregnant couple who selflessly and courageously choose life but can’t parent for various reasons. Those children need homes as much as children already born. Some people feel called to adopt special needs kids, sometimes with severe physical disabilities, mental illness, and/or history of trauma and neglect, whose lives are just as valuable and in need of unconditional love and care as those without these issues.

As believers in God, called to love, compassion, sacrifice, discipline, and forgiveness, our hearts see someone in need and feel the wrongness of their plight. We feel the urge to do something for them. God calls us to different acts of service based on the personalities and characteristics He gave us when He created us, and He puts people and situations in our path for us to act on His behalf, show His kind of love and generosity, change our hearts and minds to grow stronger and wiser, and make a difference in the lives of the suffering. Sometimes we respond, sometimes we don’t. We don’t have to do it all. Oftentimes we try to do everything we can for everyone without replenishing our own physical, mental, psychological, and spiritual needs. We forget we are also human, also suffering in some way whether we realize it or not, also in need of help and connection, also just as flawed and imperfect as everyone else.

Much like seeing sand dollars, once Michael and I started thinking about adoption and seeing it in practice, we couldn’t not see it. It’s everywhere. The Honeymaid “Little Brother” and Principal Financial “Adoption” commercials. Families shepherding obviously adopted children through airports. A transracial family sharing a meal together at a restaurant. The emails from Compassion International asking us to add another sponsored child to the two we currently support. Church services, media outlets, books and articles, mission trips, personal stories and all the other myriad ways of sharing information with one another, all telling us how many children need families and how Christians should lead this endeavor. When God opens our eyes to something He needs us for, He won’t let us close them again no matter how hard we fight.

We want to provide homes to them all, but we can only provide a home to a few and encourage others to do the same when God calls them to a similar situation. There are so many ways to get involved in orphan care, whether adopting, fostering, financially supporting, mentoring women in difficult circumstances, providing services and resources to children and families in need; the list is never-ending. Through our IVF failures and continued desire to be parents, Michael and I have decided to adopt. We have no idea where God will lead us as we follow Him through this new door He’s opened, but we are open to whatever He has in mind and seek to follow His guidance and trust His plan.

One of the things the (Christian) adoption books we’ve read says is to be honest about what you can handle based on the information and experiences you’ve accumulated up to that point. As much as we wish to trust God and His plan, we also trust the wisdom He gives us to set limits and say “no” to some situations. He doesn’t expect us to say “yes” to every situation we’re presented with, but He expects us to be all in, completely committed to who He does bring to us. We won’t be guilt-tripped into taking on situations we can’t give our absolute best to. No adoption is any better or worse, any more sacrificial or less sacrificial, any more loving or less loving in God’s eyes than any other adoption. They are all just kids who need parents, kids who need love and care and boundaries, kids who need guidance, kids who can’t take care of themselves, kids who God has a purpose for and who need others to help them realize that purpose.

It’s hard to find the balance between giving control up to God and making decisions trusting the knowledge He’s given us, but we’re doing our best to be sensitive to that balance as we navigate this process. We may see sand dollars everywhere we turn, but we should only take home the ones we can take care of with the limited resources we have. If we spread ourselves too thin, we have less of ourselves to give to everyone who needs us. As of right now, our plan is to do Domestic Infant adoption, connecting with birthfamilies through intermediaries to adopt a child from 0 (unborn) up to 12 months old. We don’t have a race or gender preference. We are still discussing whether we’d take children exposed to poor prenatal care, and multiples (twins, siblings), knowing the more limitations we put on the adoption, the harder it’ll be and longer it’ll take to grow our family. And after everything we’ve been through we are definitely ready to be parents, but we also seek God’s wisdom and patience in the process to make sure we hear His voice every step of the way.

If you wonder how we came to those conclusions, just ask us. We are very open about the decisions we’ve made and love to share the process with others. We’d love to hear your opinions and concerns, but just know we plan to make the best decision for me and Michael and may not follow your advice, though we still love you and feel grateful for your concern. We ask that you simply support our decisions and love our children (and their birth families) unconditionally, whoever they turn out to be. We know we’ve got an army of people around us just waiting to love on Baby Thompson(s).

Our goal isn’t simply to grow our own family, but to encourage others to grow their families in this way as well, to see adoption as an equally viable option for having children, and to open the world’s eyes to this huge global need. There are sand dollars everywhere, some out in the open, some partially hidden, some buried deep waiting for a hardy seeking soul to find it. There’s enough to go around. Orphan care may not be what God calls you too, but you are needed somewhere. We just have to follow whatever unknowable force beckons us outside the comfortable shade of our life’s umbrella to courageously test the water, guarding ourselves from evil’s shark-infested ocean of fear and doubt. Along the way from the known to the unknown, God may just open our eyes to something that can never go unseen again, something that requires our attention and action, something we may never have seen if we hadn’t taken the first step on the beach.

John 14:18, Psalm 82:3, Job 29:12, 1 Samuel 1:27, Psalm 40:4, 6-8

It’s been about a month since I last wrote and in that time, Michael and I have been preparing our hearts, our home, and our family and friends for the new addition to our little family. We still haven’t gotten the process started in terms of filling out paperwork or doing our homestudy yet because we haven’t officially been Georgia residents for 6 months, a requirement to adopt in Georgia. However, that doesn’t mean we’ve been sitting idly by.

Michael and I have been reading, talking about our parenting styles, reaching out to other adoptive families about their experiences and advice, researching agencies and lawyers and consultants, observing other Godly parents in how they interact and discipline their children, asking advice from other tour families about how they travel and what products they use, and spending time with our friends’ children to see how their little minds work at different ages. I’ve also started some sewing and stitching projects for our future little one. We’ve been relatively busy despite finding ourselves momentarily stalled in the family building process.

We tell everyone we know and anyone who asks if we have children that we are going to adopt. And all have been absolutely effusive in their excitement for us, congratulating us, hugging us, and promising to pray for us! People have shared their own stories of adoption, stories of people they know who’ve adopted, and how adoption is the perfect example of the Gospel. Friends talk about how our little one may be growing in someone’s tummy right now and how excited they are to see the children God has planned for us. We could not ask for better friends and family who have really embraced our new path and plan to encourage and walk along side us. It’s even sparked conversations about how the process works and people have come out of the woodwork expressing their own desires to adopt someday. We love that we are already encouraging other brothers and sisters in Christ to consider adoption and hope to pave the way for them!

God did not cause me to be infertile. Infertility is a product of the Fall, of the disobedience of Adam and Eve that all humans inherited, of the brokenness of this world, of the sinful nature of humans. When God created the first man and woman, He intended for all people everywhere to be able to “be fruitful and multiply.” But the Fall brought barrenness into the world, among other things like disease, natural disasters, and hunger. I don’t blame God for my infertility. I don’t blame anyone actually, not even myself. Honestly, since we’ve ended our IVF journey, I’ve hardly even thought about infertility. We’re thankful to have a Heavenly Father who walked beside us through those painful times, wept with us, carried us, strengthened us, and used our suffering to grow and mature us and teach us about who He is.

We have no idea what our children will look like. We have no idea what their personalities will be like. We have no idea of the circumstances of their conceptions. We have no idea what prenatal care the birth moms will seek. We have no idea what kind of heritage our children will come from. We have no idea when our children will arrive. We have no idea if we will be present for the births or get our children days, weeks or months later. We have no idea if our children will have special needs. We have no idea where our children will geographically come from. We have no idea at all how this adoption process will play out. We don’t know anything about our children and can’t even predict anything about our children. God has made us completely dependent on Him to bring children to our family for us to raise for Him. The only thing we can control is whether we say Yes or No to His calling. Whether we trust Him enough to bring the children He needs for us to parent for Him. For a lot of people that all sounds really scary. Control…we want control, especially over something as precious and important as building our family.

I’ll be very honest though… Thinking about how little control we have is really refreshing. After the crushing weight and sadness of multiple IVF failures, giving up control is freeing. NOT having control actually makes us smile. It wells up excitement and joy and light, not anxiety and fear. It doesn’t scare us because of what we DO know…

We know God is good. We know God loves us. We know God never changes. We know God is faithful to complete His work in me and Michael. We know God loves and values and has a destiny for all beings, alive and walking on Earth or just a cluster of cells in the womb. We know God is in control of our family. We know God has already written the stories of our children’s lives in His history. We know God has used adopted beings for extraordinary destinies (umm…hello Moses, Joseph, Esther, and Jesus??). We know God has a plan beyond our understanding. We know we can trust God. That’s all we need to know.

Infertility is a fact of our life and Michael and I can either dwell on it, seek pity, and feel bitter and depressed about our situation, or we can use it for something good. We can either shrivel up and cower in fear and anxiety, which is what Satan wants, or we can carry our cross daily and fight for the world God envisioned when He created it. Those who’ve put our faith and trust in the hope of Christ are adopted Children of God. We carry God’s DNA, and God equips His children as warriors with Heavenly weapons to do battle daily against the evil that surrounds us. It seems God’s called us to battle the effects of infertility and abortion by building a family through the selfless love of adoption.

Adoption is not strange to God. Actually to Him, it’s rather mundane. He does it every day. He sees a child in need and He goes to them and says “you are now part of my Holy family.” Simple as that if we accept His offer and allow Him to parent us. Adoption is not a second best option. Adoption is not a last resort. Adoption is simply one of many equally perfect and beautiful ways of creating a family. Adoption is not about me and Michael “saving” children from a bad circumstance. On the outside it may look like that, but it’s something infinitely deeper. It’s us saying “somewhere out there are children who need us. Birth families who need us. Let’s do what we can with what God’s given us. Let’s show them how God loves them.”

Adoption creates a family of people who need each other to grow and thrive and love and laugh and cry as we do life together. They will be our children simply because God will need us to parent them, no matter anyone’s biology. It creates a situation for us to LIVE the Gospel, not just talk it. It mirrors here on Earth how God doesn’t look at biology or DNA when He creates His family. He doesn’t only take the flawless ones who look and act like Him; He takes anyone, no matter what they look like or what they’ve done. All are equally loved and desired by God. A family isn’t just created by blood, a family is created by LOVE.

John 1:12, Matthew 18:5, Romans 8:16-18, 1 Samuel 1:27

Ya’ll I’m gonna be very honest right now and tell you exactly how I feel about our situation. I’m definitely in a period of adjustment. Everyday since we closed the IVF door and opened the adoption one, I’ve had a mini-meltdown. I read something in a book, hear someone’s story of adoption, or find something new to consider in my research and tears begin to fall. I guess I could blame it on changing hormones, but I don’t want to explain away my feelings as if they aren’t important. When I become aware of my sin, I want to face it and seek to change as God instructs. My poor strong husband has never seen this side of me and he’s gracefully learning to navigate it. I’m thankful he chose to take these three weeks off so we can have time together as a family, me and him and Bubbles, who I’ve now dubbed my emotional support cat. She just gets me.

One of the themes of my infertility journey, a sort of affirmation I created for myself, was “I refuse to let this make me bitter. I will only let it make me better.” It’s a choice I made long ago, one that’s defined the direction of my spiritual transformation. It’s the idea that no matter what happens, no matter what the future brings, I will do whatever I need to grow closer to God and not farther away, to love Him more and not less, and to love others more and not let my personal feelings get in the way of that. I refuse to let any negative feelings or lies from Satan take hold and grow roots in my heart and soul that could hinder my growth into the woman God needs for these precious souls He intends for us to parent.

Why then have I descended into what I consider relatively mild histrionics, (though Michael may say different), for the past week? Let me be clear: it’s not because I’m sad we won’t have biological children. I’m definitely over the loss of the pregnancy dream. I never want to have to do IVF again. It sucked. After every miscarriage, I wanted to give it up, but couldn’t because we still had a responsibility to the embryos we created. As much as I wanted IVF to work, I’m really glad that chapter’s over. I’m excited to be back working out, getting fit, and taking only one vitamin a day. I’ll never have to lose baby weight. I can drink wine and take baths whenever I want. It’s a pretty sweet deal if you ask me. I know I still want children, but God’s taken away the path to having biological children and I’m fine with that. I’m actually relieved that there’s no chance of me getting pregnant because we can commit 100% unencumbered to adoption.

I also have no reservations about loving a child that didn’t come from my body. Whatever children God brings to our family, they’ll need a secure, loving environment where they can grow into the people God needs for His future plans. That’s the case for any child no matter where they come from and I know Michael and I can provide that. I see Godly potential in all children. That’s why I went into pediatric physical therapy. I worked with head injury, cancer, Cystic Fibrosis, genetic disorder, Cerebral Palsy, orthopedic, and all sorts of other patients. Where others saw hardship and sadness, I saw hope and a future for even the sickest, most debilitated situations. No matter how long their lives lasted, I believe every child I worked with could impact the world in some way and I could do my small part to help them along that path. Physical therapy was the best time of their day because for an hour, they could forget their troubles and play games and be kids, all the while improving their strength and stamina to continue the fight. God taught me to love all kids in all situations through my physical therapy work. I know I’ll love whatever child He brings through adoption as much as if I carried him or her for 9 months.

Nor am I afraid of how much work, how much time, how much money, or how much patience it will take to complete the process and bring home our children. I am anxious to be a mom, but I know it will take time to make that happen. Infertility has taught me to turn to God when I feel anxious, worried, impatient, or sad about my situation. God always comforted me before, so I know He’ll continue walking beside me as we slog through the adoption process. What is my problem then?

My wise mom hit the nail on the head. I always get unsettled when I feel like I’m not in control. If I were to categorize my fear, I’d say I’m afraid of the unknown outcome. Like all humans, I like to know the book’s ending before reading the story of how it came about. Throughout our IVF journey, people kept saying they “just know it’s going to work,” or “it worked for my friend so it will work for you.” As I smiled and thanked them, all I could think was “you don’t know that. It may not.” And it didn’t. I’m grateful for the lessons God taught me through it, but it didn’t end how we wanted and I think I’m carrying some of that trepidation into our new season. Although people keep telling us what great parents we will make, how lucky those children will be to have us, how sure they are that this will work, there’s still the chance that it may not. Any number of things could prevent us from growing our family through adoption. Satan’s found a new way to attack me, so I need to strap on God’s armor and work through this.

As I tearfully clung to Michael this morning, he told me if I still felt uncomfortable in July when we started the process, we could wait a year. I agreed and then left to go to the Wednesday women’s bible study we have here on the island. I didn’t really want to go all red-eyed and puffy-faced, but I had to pay for the Beth Moore book I had picked up a few weeks ago. I decided to go just to pay and then leave, but when I got there I couldn’t see where to put my money, so I was forced to sit and watch the video until it ended so I could give my bill to the woman who runs the study. Let me tell you, when God has something to teach us, He orchestrates even the most mundane things like missing payment boxes to address our needs. And if our hearts are tuned to hear Him, we recognize His work immediately. The study video today was about being a Godly wife, and the first thing it talked about was being a woman of courage.

Proverbs 31:10-31 describes a woman of courage, a brave warrior, valiant and confident. She is no wallflower, blown over by the hurricanes of life’s uncertainty or distress. She diligently goes about her life, working hard to provide what her family needs, modeling a Godly example to her husband and children, respecting and honoring her husband and standing beside him as they grow their life together. I’m sure she has fear about the future, but it never stops her from doing what needs to be done. Most importantly, she has complete and utter trust in God’s abilities, vastly above and beyond her own. If I want to be a Godly woman, I must use Proverbs 31 as my guide. God give me courage.

Courage is not fearlessness. I think some fear is healthy because it keeps us safe and makes us stop to consider options and discern what’s right. Fear becomes unhealthy when it paralyzes us from doing what needs to be done. Courage is action in the midst of fear. Courage is doing what’s right, even when it scares us. Courage is trusting the Lord’s promise of goodness, even when we can’t see the outcome yet. Courage is going after something you want, giving it 100% of your effort, despite the fact that it may fail.

My desire for a child hasn’t wavered just because IVF failed. If anything, infertility showed me just how much I want to be a mom, how much Michael wants to be a dad. If I don’t have courage to pursue adoption because of self-created, completely irrational fear, I deny children the gift of the unique home only Michael and I can provide, I deny my husband the chance to be a father, I deny our parents and siblings the chance to be grandparents and aunts and uncles to our children, I deny us some future we can’t see yet. Our choices today have farther reaching consequences than just our immediate feelings.

Why am I telling you this? Why am I revealing to you my weakness? Our world values strength and confidence, not languor and vulnerability. I personally think the strongest, wisest, most courageous people are the ones who admit their insecurities, show vulnerability, and honestly reveal who they are deep inside. I don’t want to create the illusion that I’m perfect. I desire to model what a true Christian looks like. Broken, imperfect, constantly failing, aware of my deplorable state. I’ve written about all this before in previous posts, but now you can see just how difficult it is for head knowledge to become heart knowledge. I still don’t have it all figured out and I never will. My idol of control is not something that goes away with one prayer and one blog post. It’s something I’ll always struggle with, something God and I will have to work on every day, maybe for the rest of my life. I’m thankful God is limitless and timeless and endlessly patient and He loves me so much that He wants to work this out of me.

A true Christian isn’t someone who has it all figured out. It’s someone who realizes how much they don’t have things figured out. It’s someone who turns to God as the source of grace, strength, comfort, peace, joy, contentment, and unconditional love. Non-believers love to find faults in Christians, love to highlight our weaknesses, love to broadcast when we fail to live up to the perfect standard of God. What non-believers don’t understand is that in God’s eyes all people, from the serial killer to the Pope, are equally sinful, no matter how we choose to live our lives. God doesn’t see gradations of sin as we humans do; He abhors it all with equal unfathomable wrath. Every person falls short of God’s standard of perfection. The difference between Christians and non-Christians is that we understand this and thank God for providing the perfect One who appeals to Him on our behalf. We understand how much we fail daily to live up to God’s standard and how much we needed Jesus to do what He did for us on the cross, something we could never do on our own.

On the flip-side, where all people are equally sinful and fall short in God’s eyes, all people are also equally capable of being saved and going to Heaven. Jesus didn’t just bear some sins, He bore them all. Think of every awful thing you’ve done, every awful thing all humans in all of history have done and will do, known and unknown because God sees all, and see them on Jesus’ body as He hangs on the cross. Sin and evil entered the world through man’s disobedience and arrogant desire to “be god.” We humans aren’t capable of sacrificing enough to satisfy God’s wrath. Only God himself could provide the necessary sacrifice, in the form of His own Son, to open a way back into communion with Him for all people who desire it. If you choose to love the Lord, nothing you have ever done in your past, nothing you do now, and nothing you will do in your future can prevent Him from loving you and forgiving you and giving you all the spiritual blessings He promises if you sincerely ask for His help in your life.

This doesn’t mean once we turn to God for help, then we no longer sin. It simply means God’s already atoned for our sin, already given us the hope of Heaven when our bodies die. He uses the rest of our Earthly lives to mature us and bring more people to know Him by our example. No matter how hard we try to love God perfectly, we should expect to become distracted by the world, stray from the path and lose sight of Him at times, as I have over the past week adjusting to this new situation. But a heart that truly loves the Lord will daily re-commit itself to Him, always seeking to grow closer to the model of Jesus. God should be the first one we run to in times of trouble, not the last. I’m proud to say that once I became aware of Satan’s attacks and my sinful paralyzing fear, my first instinct was to read God’s word, pray for courage, admit my feelings to the Earthly man God put beside me to hold me accountable, and seek wisdom from above.

I will pursue adoption. I’m committed 100%. I won’t let Satan paralyze me from running this race. With IVF, when I stopped listening to everyone around me and listened to the whispers in my heart, I didn’t think it would work. When I think about adoption, I see only light and joy. Deep down, I do think it’s going to work because I think God’s been preparing us for this all along. To me, IVF was the boyfriend right before the husband, the situation that matured and prepared us for our true destiny. We will be fabulous parents to adopted children. Today my choice is courage to leap into the unknown, trusting the One who paves the way.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken”

We find ourselves at a crossroads. We have no more embryos frozen, no eggs frozen, and have used up all our IVF cycles with our current doctor. We’re completely free of any obligations for building our family. Like the person in Frost’s poem, we stare down two roads and cannot travel both. One leads to another fertility doctor, more testing, more medical procedures, more pills, more hormone shots, more travel, more time apart. The other leads to adoption.

We’ve decided we’re finished with IVF. We’ve decided to pursue adoption. I know many of you are wondering what happened to our idea to work with a doctor we found in Denver a while back, to see if a different situation would answer our questions about why we can’t conceive. I’ve always said that our logical stopping point would be when we either had the family we wanted or when we’d exhausted all our options and felt complete in our knowledge of why it couldn’t work. Neither of those situations has happened, yet we’ve decided to stop.

Frankly, we’re exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. We’re tired of the emotional rollercoaster that comes from creating beautiful embryos, building a healthy environment for them, only to have it all end in miscarriage or no pregnancy and have to rally again for another round. We’re tired of the weight gain, the daily multiple shots in the tummy and butt, the bruising, the side-effects of hormones, the pain and discomfort of the egg retrieval, and the inactivity necessary during the whole delicate process, not to mention any long-term effects this may have on my health going forward. We’re tired of the mind games we have to play and coping mechanisms we have to find to keep ourselves free of bitterness, anger and depression. And we’re tired of the spiritual workout God’s putting us through as we constantly lean on Him for comfort, strength, joy, peace, grace, and all other spiritual fruits. We’re thankful for all He’s teaching us and know that part never really ends, but we’re exhausted and finally in a position to take a different road.

Multiple people have asked me how I feel about the fact that I’ll never carry children, never have biological children. I won’t deny that I’m not disappointed. Pregnancy is such a beautiful thing, uniquely designed for women, and it’s something I’ll never experience. The reason we tried IVF was to have a biological child, and it didn’t work. God said “No.” There’s always sadness at the loss of a dream. However, I’d say if I could break down my emotional state into a pie chart, it’d be 5% sadness, 50% relief (no more shots, no more pills, no more miscarriages), and 45% excitement, and those numbers will change over the next few months into more and more excitement as we get closer to our homestudy and application process.

In general, everyone has been 100% supportive of our choices regarding IVF thus far. However, one person very close to us said something that has stuck with me over the past 6 months. She said “I think if God intended this to work, He would’ve healed your body by now.” At the time, it upset me because we weren’t in the mindset of giving up yet. But now, I’m so thankful for her wise, honest, Godly opinion. It’s really helped us feel peace about our current decision because she’s exactly right. We’ve fixed the clotting issue, we’ve bypassed the vitamin absorption issue, we’ve tried acupuncture, Chinese herbs and other supplements, and I’ve changed my diet and activity to fit our situation. We’ve created amazing embryos and amazing environments for things to go right, and still they haven’t. We’ve not tried absolutely everything, but we’ve tried enough. If God meant for this to work, He had many opportunities to make it. I know she’s reading this, so I want her to know how thankful I am for her loving accountability.

I’ve never told anyone this, not even Michael, but to be honest I think deep down in my mind I always thought this would be the outcome. A tiny neuron deep inside always thought it wouldn’t work. That tiny neuron, completely buried under hopes and dreams and emotions, kept whispering “This will not end how you want it to.” It wasn’t that I despaired or lost faith or lacked trust or believed God didn’t love us or wanted to protect myself from failure; it was something else entirely.

I believe that tiny neuron was the unadulterated Holy Spirit asking the following questions: In this situation, what would be the more powerful testimony of faith? What will grow God’s kingdom more? Will people witnessing our struggle respond more to me getting what I want because “my faith has made me well”? Or will the fact that my faith has grown and deepened and solidified and remained firm through suffering have more impact? Will the fact that I proclaim wholeheartedly God’s love and goodness despite not getting what I want bring more people to Christ? And every time I asked myself this, the Holy Spirit whispered the latter.

It seems that’s been God’s plan all along. That’s what this journey has really been about. In God’s eyes, our IVF story was never with a baby at it’s conclusion. His plan this whole time was to grow His kingdom, grow faith and trust and wisdom, both in me and Michael, and in all those we’ve shared it with. Michael and I can unequivocally say our faith has grown and flourished in a situation that often leads couples to bitterness, despair and sometimes divorce. Our marriage has become so much stronger, so much sweeter, so much more loving and forgiving. Michael’s faith has astounded me at times. He always said the exact right thing for every situation we’ve found ourselves in, and I think my example and faith have impacted him in his own walk with the Lord. I love our marriage because we push each other to reflect God better every day. We’re best friends who through this process have learned how to lovingly and respectfully communicate and challenge each other and hold each other accountable for our actions and words. What Satan intended for destruction, God used for His glory. Screw you, Satan! 😉

So now we start a new journey. We close one book and begin afresh a new one. Before any of you share your stories of knowing someone who adopted and then got pregnant naturally, I’ll stop you right now and remind you that I have no Fallopian Tubes. We removed them because they were blocked and we wanted to create a good environment for IVF. I don’t regret this decision at all because it means we will never have any conflict of interest. There’s no possible way for me to get pregnant naturally. Now if God has another immaculate conception in mind, I’m game, but we hold out no false hope for this. We’re completely committed to and excited for the adoption path.

A couple women have also offered to be our surrogate someday in the future after they’ve completed their own families and I cannot fathom such a selfless sacrifice. It makes me feel so blessed to have such women to call friends and family and I hope they know how much their offer means to us. If God calls us to that, it won’t be for many years. Again, we aren’t holding out hope for that because it’s not something we can do right now. I imagine if God gives us our children through adoption, we won’t want to ever go back to IVF or surrogacy. I honestly hope we never have to. I know the process and what an emotional toll it can take and I would hate to put that burden on anyone else. But God’s in charge so we leave the future in His hands. Right now, we’re focusing on the immediate next steps to growing our family. There’s too many children in need of a home to sit idly by.

I don’t ask God why He decided not to give us biological children. Honestly, I don’t really care. We humans have a great desire to understand everything, but knowing why won’t change the what. Constantly asking why only delays the healing, delays closure, delays joy and contentment with the situation’s reality. I am infertile. I will never carry children. These are the truths of my life. I can either mope and cry and fight and rage at God asking why, or I can accept the truth of the situation and try to make the best of it. The inability to have children is not the end of the world. I anticipate Satan will sporadically attack me with “what if” and “why,” but I have the armor of God protecting me whenever I call on it. God fights my spiritual battles for me when I need Him, and He ALWAYS wins. It’s not even a close contest.

So I guess this blog will now be a blog about our adoption experience! I’m sure I’ll often reference back to the good ‘ole infertile days, but I’m excited to share with ya’ll everything God teaches us through the adoption process. I think it’s so perfect how it all worked out because I know lots of women who struggle with infertility can’t fathom adoption and fight hard to avoid it. I understand this attitude because I used to be one of them! Adoption was never on our radar before all this. But God has called us to it, whether we feel equipped or not. I’ll admit that I’m scared. One of my greatest idols is control, and God has certainly shown me how little control I really have. I pray He continues to work this out of me as we start this new journey and He uses me to lessen women’s fears about adoption.

I also pray we can continue to honestly and openly share our story with ya’ll. I’ve found a passion in writing and hope it’s given a new perspective into a tough situation sadly more and more women find themselves in. I trust God will carry us through this new story He’s writing and I hope the evolution of the blog continues as we pass through life’s seasons. Thank you everyone who’s supported us on this journey! We hope we can love you all just as big and well as you’ve loved us! We ask for prayers for wisdom as we make decisions about our adoption process and also that God brings the right situations to the table for our family. In turn, we pray for all of you, that you would know how God adopts us all into His family when we profess our love for Him, how He parents us with unconditional love and strict discipline, and how His relationship to us models the perfect example for all our relationships.

So begins our adoption story…Chapter 1…”In the beginning…”