Chosen & Loved

“You have what we call ovarian failure, or ovarian insufficiency,” the doctor said in a calm even tone as he looked at my results. I looked out the window at the blooming pink blossoms, my face felt hot. I have never felt called to carry my own child, but always wanted to be a mother. I was adopted at birth, and adopting has always felt normal to me. I have journals I’ve kept from elementary school (apparently, I’ve always been a writer), where I scribbled phrases like, “I can’t wait to adopt a baby!” Pregnancy always seemed scary to me, and with my history of eye issues, I was always afraid that I wouldn’t carry a pregnancy well. Even with the strongest desire to adopt, there is something heart-wrenching about hearing that your own biological child wouldn’t even be an option. My body reacted as though it heard nails on a chalkboard. I made a joke to myself in an effort to cope with my situation, “no eggs in the basket,” I thought as I stared at the blossoms.

This was the final appointment for my husband and I in seeing if having our own biological child would be possible. We had spent months getting all the necessary testing completed and were finally getting those results. I thought it was strange that I was having this reaction, because I had received my initial test results a month prior via my online portal. My husband’s hopeful optimism that the results were wrong somehow had me convinced that there was still a chance. To be honest, I wanted it more for my husband and family than I did for myself. I wanted to be able to give them a perfect mixture of Brandon and I, a bright blue-eyed, curly headed, spitfire of a child. I felt like I had let them all down. Which is not logical, I know this full well, but somewhere inside me, my biology was telling me that I was a failure. Just like my ovaries.

That night was difficult. There were so many emotions swirling around and battling inside both my husband and I. So many questions. So much to say, and yet nothing to say at all. And while we both processed the fact that we would not be having a biological child, I started to panic. I was worried about letting family down by not being able to carry myself, I was worried about not being a mother, and I was heartbroken at the idea of my husband never being a father. And while the chaos of my thoughts raged war in my head, it all came to a screeching halt with two words. “Trust me.” When the Holy Spirit speaks, you know. And it was one of the moments that you know came straight from God. One of those moments where your tears instantly dry up, your body relaxes, and you feel the intensity of the pain you felt slowly subsiding. I instantly knew that God had a plan. If God has shown me anything in this life, it’s that He always has a plan. He has never forsaken me. And He would not abandon us now. And so I picked myself up off the living room floor where I had been crying on my dogs (literally poor things, laid on top of them), showered, and went to bed. There was no more questioning. Could I have questioned God? Absolutely. Could I have ignored the still small voice? Easily. But my faith kept my feet rooted in God’s promise. It was my faith that propelled me off that floor.

Faith is a great weapon in the fight against adversity. And sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. God knows our own emotions and heart often leads us astray. When faith feels unsteady, the Bible is always there to provide accounts of people who have struggled just like us. God wants good things for us. And even in the face of trials, God uses our circumstances for something. We may not understand it, and knowing that He is working may not take away all of our pain or the circumstance itself, but it can provide us with hope, with strength to endure, and with a reminder of His unfailing love. Women throughout the Bible like Sarah, Rebekah, Elizabeth, Rachel, and Hannah struggled with infertility. Sarah conceived at a much older age, Hannah conceived after weeping and praying in desperation to God, and Elizabeth conceived after her husband was visited by an angel. Now, I’m not saying that God is going to bring a biological child to every infertile woman, but I am saying that God hears us, He cares for our hearts, and nothing can stop His will. Psalm 34:19 tells us that “the Lord is close to the brokenhearted, saves those whose spirit is crushed.” And Isaiah 40:31 tells us that “they that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar on eagles’ wings; they will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint.”

I was adopted at birth. My mother also experienced infertility and she prayed for me for a long time before God brought us together, but He was faithful to my mother in her journey, as I know He will be faithful to my husband and I. My adoption was one of the most miraculous things that has ever happened to me, and is one of the biggest examples of God’s hand in and over my life trajectory.

We are now beginning our own adoption journey. We cannot wait to welcome our baby with open arms and a lifetime of love. We are already full of commitment to support our future child through all of life’s trials and to fill them up with strength, acceptance, and God’s love. We have faith that God will bring a child into our family and hearts, and we will trust Him just as He has asked. Does that make our process easy? No. Does that relieve all the feelings associated with infertility? No. But we do have hope. And we do have faith. And really, that’s all we need right now. We are thrilled to be on this journey together, no matter how long it takes, and we know that our faithful God will bring our child to us in His good timing. He is never early, never late, always on time (even if we would prefer a solid timeline). And until He decides it is time, we will trust Him.

“I wait for the Lord; who bends down to me and hears my cry, draws me up from the pit of destructions, out of the muddy clay, sets my feet upon rock, and steadies my steps, and puts a new song in my mouth.”- Psalm 40:2-4