Waiting for Baby Bird

Grieving the Life You Planned

Vulnerable Post Alert: 

Grief hits you at weird moments, doesn’t it?

For me, it happened this morning as I stood facing my bathroom mirror. I was mindlessly putting on my makeup and getting ready for the day when the thoughts of what I imagined my life would look like recklessly hit me like a Mack truck. And then what followed was that all too familiar ping to my heart as I began to feel the hurt and pain in regards to how my life is not going according to plan. Does this mean I think my life is bad? No. But am I where I thought I would be, and is it what I expected and plotted out years ago? Again, no. And it hurts. It causes tears to fall as you realize the dreams you once had are blurry. And the future that you hope remains, somehow also seems blurry.

I realized in that moment that I could tell myself to suck it up and be grateful for all that I do have and all that still remains (which I am), but by ignoring the pain, I wouldn’t be allowing my heart to heal. Our culture is so quick to rush grief and “fake it until we make it” but we need to give ourselves permission to have grace and space to feel and deal; which is what I am allowing myself to do today. I’m not going to shut it down or shove it out. After all, if you had a cut on your hand you wouldn’t tell yourself to stop hurting or pretend it wasn’t there, right? You would immediately take care of it. Therefore, if we know how to take care of cuts to our physical bodies, then why don’t we do that with cuts to our hearts?

I don’t know who this message is for today, but if you are feeling the weight of unmet expectations, please know this: It’s okay to mourn the life you expected. It’s okay to grieve the plans you had made. It’s okay to cry that they didn’t work out. And it’s okay to simply not be okay with it all. Instead, give yourself grace and space to feel and deal. After all, there is no “fake it until you make it” in scripture. In fact, there is just the opposite.

“Those who sow in tears will reap shouts of joy.” Psalm 126:5

“God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

“Jesus wept.” John 11:35


I would love to connect with you on a personal level, so if you liked this post, pass it on.Then come find Waiting for Baby Bird on the public Facebook page or join me on Instagram @waitingforbabybird. I can’t wait to “meet” you!If you are looking for a faith-based infertility community of other women who just “get it”, then head over to the *PRIVATE* Waiting for Baby Bird Support group for hope + encouragement. There you will find opportunities to ask for prayer, watch *LIVE* encouragement videos from me, author of “Waiting for Baby Bird,” enter into exclusive giveaways, as well as be able to share your heart with others on the same path, and so much more! So what are you waiting for? Find us here!

Waiting for Baby Bird

When You Are Still Pregnant Eight Years Later

May 17th, 2012.

That was the day a nurse confirmed I was pregnant. And it was also the day I announced to my husband that he was going to be a daddy. I remember giggling over dinner as we discussed due dates, names, and nursery ideas…

It seems like it’s been forever since that day eight years ago; yet at the same time it feels like it’s only been a few minutes.

I’ll never forget sitting in the parking lot of a local restaurant with the sun beaming down on my legs as I hurried to answer the phone. I knew who it was going to be on the other end. It would be her. The nurse. I had been patiently waiting to hear her voice all morning. And there she was on the other end holding the fate of my future in her words. Was I pregnant? Was life within me growing? The answer was yes. All of the money, the pain, the heartache, the early morning appointments and late-night tears were all worth it to hear her excited voice tell me what I already knew in my heart.

I was officially a Momma.

I remember after ending our conversation taking my hand and placing it over my womb as I whispered to God, “Thank you!” and then to my baby bird, “I will do anything to protect you.”

It was then that I forgot about my lunch as I rushed to Hobby Lobby, then Michael’s, then back to Hobby Lobby before ending at Walmart. I wanted to hurry and make that “Daddy Doody Kit” I had once giggled over while searching Pinterest; as well as, orchestrate that announcement which had captured my heart through Facebook. It was the one with the honey bun in the oven and a sign that read “There is a bun in my oven.” Have you seen it? It’s cute. It’s even cuter when you can pull it off and capture it on camera, which I did.

I’ll never forget the look on his face; it’s the one you can see above. Even without pictures it’s a look that gets etched into your memory like a tattoo. It’s permanent. No matter how much you try to erase it, you can’t. It’s there. It’s always there.

You might ask why would you want to erase it, because it was a happy moment, right?

It was. And it still is.

Yet, at the same time it isn’t.

Because that life I promised to protect? I couldn’t.

Trust me, I tried.

I begged. I pleaded. I ran to the church altar for prayer and cried into the chest of a woman I didn’t even know. I later called upon my friends, including the ones from Kindergarten, to storm the gates of Heaven. But, despite the tears and even our bargaining, my baby, the child we worked so hard to conceive through medical intervention, was not saved.

Within two short weeks after hearing the nurse congratulate me, I had to force myself to say goodbye, instead of nine months later say hello, as I flushed my child, whom I often wonder might have had my husband’s dark hair or my blue eyes, down the toilet.

And that’s a day…an image…I would also like to erase. But again, it’s permanent. Like a tattoo.

On this day eight years ago I was pregnant. And on this day eight years later, I still am. Just not in the physical sense. Because while I might not be pregnant in my womb, I am in my heart. Because it is in our hearts that our dreams are first conceived. It’s there inside the soft fertile soil that God plants hope for our desires and gives us faith to believe in Him to bring them to fruition. It is there in our hearts where it first begins to live. And it is there where it continues to grow.

I know that it seems irrational, illogical, and downright ridiculous to continue to believe month after month, year after year for the impossible, but I can’t help but be expectant of it. After all, like I said, I am pregnant. I am pregnant with hope and faith, two power twins that together can bring forth a miracle. A miracle that will have ten tiny fingers and ten wiggly toes.

But you know something else?

I’m not just pregnant and therefore expectant that one day the desires planted in my heart will one day grow in my arms, but I am also pregnant and expectant for that day to come for you too. For God does not show favoritism (Romans 2:11). And nothing is impossible for him. Even that one thing you just thought of. So your age…your diagnosis…your past? It doesn’t matter in the hands of our Poppa God. So be pregnant with me…pregnant with hope.


I would love to connect with you on a personal level, so if you liked this post, pass it on. Then come find Waiting for Baby Bird on the public Facebook page or join me on Instagram @waitingforbabybird. I can’t wait to “meet” you!If you are looking for a faith-based infertility community of other women who just “get it”, then head over to the *PRIVATE* Waiting for Baby Bird Support group for hope + encouragement. There you will find opportunities to ask for prayer, watch *LIVE* encouragement videos from me, author of “Waiting for Baby Bird,” as well as be able to share your heart with others on the same path, enter into exclusive giveaways, and so much more! So what are you waiting for? Find us here!

Waiting for Baby Bird

When It Seems Like You Are the Only One With Infertility

Sometimes it feels like you are the only one.

The only one with this longing. This heartache. This inability and void. In fact, all it takes is walking down the aisles of the grocery store, looking around in your church congregation, or simply sitting down in a restaurant for dinner in order for it to seem obvious, right? Everyone else has a cart full, a pew filled, or a booth overflowing with tiny little humans they call their own. And you can’t help but take notice and then immediately feel as though you are the only one.

The only one with empty arms…and a bedroom that should be a nursery. The only one who can’t join in on the conversations of motherhood…or just look at her husband and “BAM” get pregnant. The only one who is frustrated because your body can’t do what it was created to do, or accomplish what comes so naturally to others. But the body of the person not hoping, praying or even wanting to create another life can.

There is no doubt that Infertility is isolating. It causes you to feel like an outcast, a leper, that no one understands. I, too, have felt alone and as though I was the only one. The only one who is digging out yesterday’s test out of the trashcan to get a second glance…you know, just in case. Or the only one who is walking down the baby aisles and touching the onsies, picking up the booties, and wondering when. And then asking why. All the while wondering if it’s because you are unworthy, or your faith is too weak, your prayers not enough, or your past too damning.

However, one day my heart was opened to see something more. Something different.

It was several years ago while sitting on the beach for a much-needed vacation; I was surrounded by picture perfect families when I couldn’t help but feel as though everyone else around me could have babies so easily except for me. But as I sat there pondering on the unfairness of it all, while allowing myself to grieve and even feel the ickyness that bitterness carries, I let the truth sink in that 1 in 8 couples really do suffer from infertility. Too often we hear statistics and brush them to the side, but sometimes it’s good to entertain them.

Because in that moment I realized the momma next to me who was chasing her two-year old could have been conceived after her fourth and last desperate attempt via IVF. And the family of five building sand castles and laughing until their bellies hurt? They could have built their family through adoption. Or the couple to my right could have been given their miracle through the gift of surrogacy. I just didn’t know. Things aren’t always what they seem. Just ask the lady who was sitting next to me whom I discovered was also barren, yet hopeful. She didn’t know the cutie patootie that kept running up to me yelling, “Mommy! Did you see that?” was my 4-year-old foster princess who may or may not be with us the following year. She saw a happy family of three. But what she perceived to be true, wasn’t the truth. Because while I was being called “mommy” that title was being threatened. And possibly lost.

The one lesson I continue to learn throughout the course of the last decade of trying to grow my family is that I don’t know another person’s story or the struggles they are facing. I don’t know the barriers people have had to bust through or the mountains they have had to climb in order to get to where they are now. And as a result, I can’t be so quick to compare and judge, or so swift to believe the lie that I am the only one who is hurting and left out. Because the fact is, I am 1 in 8. The lady sitting beside me was also 1 in 8. And many of the families surrounding me that day? They could have been 1 in 8 as well.

There is always more to what we can see; and I believe that our lives would be so much more hopeful and less stressful if we chose to expand our perceptions. Because for me, on that day while digging my toes into the sand, but bitterness into my heart, I allowed myself to ponder on the possibilities of the situation, and when I did, my eyes were opened to new perspectives and my heart was filled with hope. Hope that was soon accompanied with a sense of peace, even a little joy, that it won’t always be the way that it is right now.


I would love to connect with you on a personal level, so if you liked this post, pass it on. Then come find Waiting for Baby Bird on the public Facebook page or join me on Instagram @waitingforbabybird. I can’t wait to “meet” you!
If you are looking for a faith-based infertility community of other women who just “get it”, then head over to the *PRIVATE* Waiting for Baby Bird Support group for hope + encouragement. There you will find opportunities to ask for prayer, watch *LIVE* encouragement videos from me, author of “Waiting for Baby Bird”, as well as be able to share your heart with others on the same path, enter into exclusive giveaways, and so much more! So what are you waiting for? Find us here!

Waiting for Baby Bird

What Is the Resolve To Infertility?

Today is the grand finale of the 5 Day Photo Challenge for National Infertility Awareness Week, and RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association has challenged those within the infertility community to post a picture on their social media accounts of what resolve looks like to them. After all, resolve looks different to everyone. For some, it is childfree; for others it has ended in parenthood. But what about women like myself? Those who are still in the trenches of infertility and waiting for their miracle? What can we post? What does resolve, right now, look like for us? I’ve thought a lot about that question over the last several days and the conclusion I have come up with is this: It still looks different for each one.

You see, when looking up the definition of the word resolve, I learned that it means to settle or find a solution…or decide on a firm course of action…or have a determination to do something.

Each of us who are pursuing parenthood in the midst of obstacles will have to settle…we will have to find a solution…we will have to decide on a course of action…and determine to do something. But again, for each of us, that solution, that willingness to settle for one path over another due to finances or other restraints, as well as deciding on one course of action over another, and what our determination or how far we will go, will look different. And guess what? That is okay.

After all, 6+3=9

But so, does 5+4.

And 3×3.

The way you do things, and the way I do things, and the way she does things, are not always going to be the same. Or the only way to do them. Therefore, each person’s resolve will be different. And at times, it will change as new information is learned, insurance coverage changes, God’s direction shifts, or hope increases. Or for some, decreases.

In my case, resolve once looked like researching for hours upon hours on how to balance my hormones, ultimately leading to only more stress. Therefore, I stopped. It also looked like spending thousands of dollars on medication, supplements, and specialists, until God told me to take a rest and trust in His provision for ultimate healing. Resting is not always easy, but I have made it my resolve; my firm determination to follow hard after Jesus and be obedient. And so, for me, right now, my personal resolve involves walking by faith, not by cycle. Walking by faith, not by my (older) age. Walking by faith, not by my (PCOS) diagnosis. Walking by faith, not by the (less than 3%) odds stacked up against me.

In fact, my mantra lately has been this: I am not moved by what I see. I am not moved by what I feel. I am not even moved by my circumstances. I am only moved by what I believe. It actually stims from a quote by Smith Wigglesworth. But this variation has become my mantra because I have made it my resolve; my ultimate course of action and solution to not let what I see in my world, drag me into despair, stopping me from believing or trusting in what I read in God’s word.

That He does settle the barren woman as a happy mother of children (Psalm 113:9).

And that when the doctors say it is impossible, His word says that nothing (not even that one thing you just thought of) is impossible with Him (Luke 1:37).

Or when my birthday comes and I’m another year older, and all seems hopeless, I can read in Genesis 18:14 that nothing is too hard for the Lord. And that because He lives outside of time, age is not a factor for Him either. It doesn’t stop Him.

Therefore, when it looks as though my time is up, or my reproductive system has failed me, I go back to read the story of Sarah and Abraham. It can remind me that God doesn’t put expiration dates on our dreams or His promises; they aren’t like condiments in the refrigerator that get thrown into the trash after a certain time period. No. Instead it reassures my heart once more that despite what I see, or how I feel, and what I have been told, He is still a waymaker, miracle worker, promise keeper. He is my light in the darkness of infertility. He is my solution to fear…my firm course of action towards the desires of my heart…and the tender place where my strength and determination to keep persevering come from. He is where I run to for hope and wisdom on my next steps. He is where I run to first for knowledge, rather than Google. And He is the One whom my heart searches and longs for when I become anxious or jealous.

No matter which path I choose to take to build my family, and no matter how it ends, my answer will always be Him. I have made the resolve, that He is my resolve. But maybe you haven’t. Maybe your path looks different than mine. Or your beliefs are not the same. Sweet friend, that doesn’t make your story less and mine more. Or vice versa. They are just different. Each of us, and each of our resolves, can be, and most likely will be. But regardless, they all matter.

What is your resolve?

For more of my story, “A Decade of Infertility: It Is What It Is, But It’s Not What It Seems”

Feeling too old? Running out of time? Read “36 Years Old and Still Barren”

Odds stacked up against you? Read “He Settles the Barren: Testimonies of Hope…Part 1Part 2Part 3

Fertility Related Scriptures, Scriptures for Worry/Fear, Scriptures on Healing, Scriptures for Despair, Favorite Scriptures


I would love to connect with you on a personal level, so if you liked this post, pass it on. Then come find Waiting for Baby Bird on the public Facebook page or join me on Instagram @waitingforbabybird. I can’t wait to “meet” you!
If you are looking for a faith-based infertility community of other women who just “get it”, then head over to the *PRIVATE* Waiting for Baby Bird Support group for hope + encouragement. There you will find opportunities to ask for prayer, watch *LIVE* encouragement videos from me, author of “Waiting for Baby Bird”, as well as be able to share your heart with others on the same path, enter into exclusive giveaways, and so much more! So what are you waiting for? Find us here!

Waiting for Baby Bird

When Infertility Feels Like a Prison Sentence

Every picture tells a story…here is mine…

It’s Day 3 of the 5 Day Photo Challenge for National Infertility Awareness Week (#niaw). Day 1 was all about honoring our stories. Day 2 was about sharing our furbabies…because after all, for some of us, not all babies are in human form. And as for today, we have been challenged to throw on some ORANGE, snap a quick picture, then post it in on our social media accounts in order to help bring awareness.

Originally when I read that Resolve, which is The National Infertility Association, wanted us to wear ORANGE in order to bring awareness, I thought…why ORANGE? Did anyone else have that thought? However, upon a little investigation, I discovered their reasoning behind it was because the color ORANGE promotes a sense of wellness; as well as being around or seeing the color can also help a person recover from disappointments or a wounded heart. I also found out that studies have also shown that the color ORANGE can boost contentment, confidence and understanding. Needless to say, wearing it this week seems so fitting, right?

But, can we be honest?

When I put on this ORANGE shirt today, I felt as though I looked like a prisoner; which also seems about right. And fitting. After all, infertility can feel like a prison sentence. You feel held captive against your will. Maybe even bound by shame, guilt, bitterness, jealousy, or resentment. Perhaps it can cause a person to feel as though their freedoms have been stolen—even ripped away through broken dreams and shattered plans.

But as I stood in front of the mirror, not only looking at my reflection, but also reflecting on how women going through infertility might feel, the verse Zechariah 9:12 popped into my mind, nestling it’s way into my heart. It says, “Return to your fortress, your place of safety, all you prisoners who still have hope, for even now I will restore double for your trouble.”

So good, right? But it was in that moment this message began burning in my heart.

You see, we can either choose to be prisoners to our circumstances, ultimately succumbed to feeling held captive and defined by our diagnosis and past disappointments, or we can become a Prisoner of Hope; a person who is fueled by the notion that God is for us, He is with us, and because of Him the BEST IS YET TO COME!

One holds us captive. The other sets us free.

But the question for some becomes, “How do you become a Prisoner of Hope?” The answer is this: To be a prisoner of hope, one needs to remain hopeful in spite of circumstances that seem hopeless. They might feel fear, but they don’t give into fear. They might feel hopeless, but they don’t give into hopelessness. They might have doubts, but they don’t bow down to them. It takes willpower. It takes making a choice. It takes…well, being like Abraham. He was a Prisoner of Hope. He was someone who cultivated an attitude that enabled him to look at his 100-year-old body and also see the decades of his wife’s barrenness, yet still speak positive things about their future. After all, we can’t say that we are in faith for something, but talk as if it will never happen. We have to talk the talk. It’s something I try to do every day. When the whispers of doubt come, I try to change the conversation in my head. Is it easy? Not always. But that’s when I start talking to myself. I have learned that you can’t speak one thing, yet think another. Therefore, if I am speaking hope-filled words, I can’t be dwelling on the heartache of my doubts. Give it a shot. You’ll find yourself held captive in hope too.

There is so much more I want to say, mostly that I want to be a ‘Prisoner of Hope’ cell mate with you. Therefore, if you are someone who isn’t feeling hopeful in this moment, and you are feeling defeated and imprisoned by your circumstances, do as Zechariah 9:12 instructs; run to your fortress of safety. Run into the arms of Jesus, the place of Truth, and lock yourself up in His arms of Hope. And don’t leave. Don’t let the odds, the statistics, the diagnosis move you from believing that you can expect great things from God. Because when you stand your ground like Ol’ Ab, you set yourself free…

Sweet friend, wearing ORANGE has been shown to change your mood, but I also believe that wearing ORANGE, as a statement of being a PRISONER OF HOPE, can also change your life. It can set you FREE. So, put it on! Not just today, but every day. Declaring that even in spite of what you have been told, and what you can see, and how (old) you feel, God can restore. He can redeem. And He can make a way even when there seems to be no way.

Come be a Prisoner of Hope with me!

For more hope-filled encouragement on the power of words, “I’m Never Going to Be a Mother!”


I would love to connect with you on a personal level, so if you liked this post, pass it on. Then come find Waiting for Baby Bird on the public Facebook page or join me on Instagram @waitingforbabybird. I can’t wait to “meet” you!If you are looking for a faith-based infertility community of other women who just “get it”, then head over to the *PRIVATE* Waiting for Baby Bird Support group for hope + encouragement. There you will find opportunities to ask for prayer, watch *LIVE* encouragement videos from me, author of “Waiting for Baby Bird,” as well as be able to share your heart with others on the same path, enter into exclusive giveaways, and so much more! So what are you waiting for? Find us here!