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

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!

Waiting for Baby Bird

A Decade of Infertility: It Is What It Is, But It’s Not What It Seems

Did you know there are seven couples in the bible who were unable to conceive? Seven. And all seven by the grace of God overcame. Amazing, isn’t it?

One couple that I can relate to the most is Abraham and Sarah. For those of you who do not know their story let me tell it to you in the EGK version; that is the Elisha Grace Kearns version. You won’t find it in the back of your church pew but it’s a good translation. Honest and raw. The story goes that Abraham was old. His animals were old. His tents and clothes were old. Everything about this man was old including his wife who was not just old, but barren. In fact, Romans 4:19 puts it this way: their bodies were as good as dead. Commentaries won’t tell you this but that basically means no amount of little blue pills were going to help him (if you know what I mean), and no amount of medications, supplements, essential oils, or kicking her legs up after “whoopie” would then empower Sarah to conceive.

By human standards and doctor’s reports, it was impossible they would ever become a family of three; at least naturally. Yet in the midst of their seemingly impossible situation, God showed up and made a promise. This is where I want to press pause on the story for just a second. Because I want to speak to you…the one who is doubting if this desire is from God because of the obstacles that you have come up against…When God gave you this all-burning, all-consuming desire to be a mother, He knew what your medical chart would read. He knew what your insurance would cover and how many pennies you would be able to rub together for the adoption you feel called to pursue. He also knew if you would have stage one or stage four endometriosis or if your husband would have a weak army of swimmers. He knew if your fallopian tubes would be blocked, as well as the imbalance of hormones that would throw off your entire reproductive system. Yet, in the midst of it all, He gave you this desire anyway. Was it to dangle a carrot in your face? No. He did it because He knew that regardless of what you would face, His grace, mercy and power could overcome it all.

This was the case with our senior citizens Abraham and Sarah. God promised Ol’ Ab at the age of 75 that he would be a father and Sarah a mother. Reading their story and inserting myself into their sandals, I can’t help but think how they must have expected it to happen within a few short months; a year at the most. But if you know their story then you also know that not just one year passed…not just five…or ten…but twenty-five years went by without seeing the fulfillment of that promise. That’s a long time to fight doubt, fear and discouragement.

I know, because while my husband and I have not been waiting 25 years, we have been living in the tension that infertility so often brings for nearly a decade. We’ve been married for 13 years—the first five years we were trying but not trying. However, for the last eight years we have been trying…and trying…and trying. I thought all of our trying had commenced on May 14th, 2012 when I saw my first ever two pink lines.They didn’t come after casual sex, but rather after spending thousands of dollars in treatments, driving hundreds of miles to see the doctor, and enduring months of painful tests to figure out I had PCOS, all while shedding a bucket of tears and eating over a pound of carpet fibers at the altar in prayer. Needless to say, it’s a day I’ll never forget. Because the second I heard my favorite nurse say the sweetest words, “You’re pregnant,” I had a million dreams. A million plans. A million ideas of how my life would look like from that moment on.

But all of those dreams, those plans, those hopes and ideas came crashing down within a matter of seconds when that same nurse, in her same tender voice say, “I’m sorry. But your pregnancy is no longer viable.” That’s a day I’ll also never forget. Because it’s the kind of news that sends you to your knees…and not in prayer…but in anger and sorrow. It’s the kind of news that makes you stink…literally…because it keeps you in bed unable to shower. It’s the kind of news that makes you tell your parents that you are pregnant but will miscarry all in the same sentence because you were still in the process of planning the perfect announcement.

It’s also the kind of news that rocks your faith to the core as it makes you question God; question his plans; question his love. It makes tears stream down your face as you stand in church realizing that you can’t sing the lyrics to the song, “Good Father” because you just aren’t sure anymore. It was a difficult season in my life. But in midst of my heartache and pain, God showed up. He, too, made a promise.

It was a Sunday afternoon while driving home from church when I had my head turned, looking out of the window. Tears streamed down my face as I began praying; asking for direction. In all honesty, I call it praying but it was more like spinning my wheels trying to plan how we could conceive again. For the sake of sounding holy, we will call it praying. Regardless, in that moment I had a thought to stop treatments. I knew immediately it wasn’t of my own because that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Therefore, as fear gripped me, another thought came flooding in. It was this tender whisper to my heart that said I would have a son…and then the name Josiah popped into my head. Before anyone thinks I am crazy, I want you to know that I thought I was crazy too. Because during that time I didn’t have a relationship with God like I do now. Sure, I was born and raised in church, but my quiet time was few and far between. I only did my Jesus Calling devotional if Good Morning America was boring; basically, I worked my devotional time around my schedule…not my schedule around my devotional time. So, who is God to speak to me? Who am I that I could hear His voice? And what kind of name was Josiah anyway? No offense to anyone who has a child by that name or a husband or uncle, it just wasn’t on my list of top 100 baby names…I had names picked out for my first kiddos…Josiah wasn’t on it…

Therefore, I did want anyone who overuses the search engine Google would do (and if you suffer with infertility then you have probably overused it a time or two… insert smirk) and I immediately looked up the meaning of the name Josiah. I had decided that if it meant anything insignificant such as “keeper of the home” or “bigfoot,” then I would chalk up this whisper spoken to my heart as nothing more than my crazy-hormontional-self talking. But as I anxiously awaited, the results began appearing, and I learned the name Josiah means ‘Jehovah healed.’ Not keeper of the home. Or bigfoot.

Immediately, I began weeping because I realized in that moment that God didn’t just want to give me baby; He wanted more for me; His best. And His best included healing. I believe His best for you also includes healing. No matter what you are going through or how bleak the present may seem, God wants to restore you. That is his heart. That is his nature. And it was on that Sunday afternoon I started to believe it. I had a fire of faith burning so deep within me it couldn’t be put out. I also had a hope that couldn’t be stolen. But how many of you know that anytime your hope is renewed the enemy will always try to steal it. He doesn’t want you to get your hopes up because miracles follow hope! This happened with me. Just days after the whisper to my heart, another whisper came to my ear. This one came from my doctor informing me that our chances of conception, even with medical treatments were not favorable. In fact, he said my eggs were the quality of an elderly woman and if by some 3% chance one of them did hop into a wheelchair and wheel itself down the fallopian tube, the odds are even less it would result in a viable pregnancy. (Those weren’t his exact words, but my interpretation.) Yet despite what he said it was, and what it seemed to be, I still held onto my hope. Because after he finished giving his stats and sympathy eyes, I stood up, shook His hand, thanked him for his time, then walked out of there like a boss. I knew I would bebop back in there within three short months waving an ultrasound picture in the air.

But 3 months go by…6 months go by…12 months go by…and no ultrasound picture to bebop back into his office with. That’s when the “nevers” and the “cant’s” and the “wont’s” started to ease into my thoughts and ooze out of my vocabulary. I’m never going to be healed. I’m never going to ovulate. I’m never going to be a mother. Or, I can’t get pregnant. I won’t get pregnant. I can’t and I won’t…and I’ll never…And it’s normal. It’s human nature. Even great faith has weak moments. Because it’s easy to have hope against all hope in the beginning, but when the promise doesn’t come in the time frame you had envisioned…when your dreams are always shattered…your plans constantly thwarted… it’s hard to keep hoping…it’s almost impossible to keep believing…and sometimes, you just need a little help to keep the faith.

My SOS flare went up in 2013 shortly after one year from hearing the promise; still with an empty womb and my faith wavering, I cried out to God for something more. Something new.  It was a Friday night and while on my way to an all-women’s conference I begged him for reassurance, but I didn’t want a scripture. I also told him that I didn’t want a song to come on the radio at just the right time. Those had worked in the past; but it wouldn’t work this time. Instead I needed a burning bush…something obvious and if it wasn’t too much to ask, perhaps even a billboard sign that read: “Elisha! You will have a son and you are to name him Josiah!”

Long shot, right? I thought so too. But God knows what you need. He knows when your faith is gasping for air, and perhaps that is why you are reading this today. Your faith is gasping and you need your own billboard sign. You need your own reason to hope again. I pray you find it. Because that night I found my fresh wind. It all began as I stood on the front row of the sanctuary. The message was over and as I stood there waiting for our dismissal with the heaviness of disappointment in my heart, I held out my hands in “pretend worship.” I say pretend because at that point in the evening I just wanted to go home, put on my jammies and watch the rest of 20/20. I had hoped the speaker would have said something that would breathe life into my dying dreams but she didn’t. And so there, while standing near the front row as others came forward for ministry time, it happened. A woman whom I had never met before came and put her hands on my stomach and began praying. Immediately my eyes flew open: “Who is touching me?!” But as she began praying, I closed my eyes and thought, “I’ll go with it.” But it was when she began to pray for God to fulfill my heart’s desire and take away my burdens that tears slowly began to fall. But as she was just getting started and speaking so forcibly, she stopped. My eyes flew open and I almost said, “Don’t stop! You are doing good” when she looked at me and said with such confidence, “You will have a son!” Immediately her eyes grew the size of silver dollars as she covered her mouth before apologizing. She began to stutter and explain that she didn’t know where those words came from, and if she misspoke, she was very sorry. She went on to say that she wasn’t even sure if I wanted children…but before she uttered another word I fell to the ground and, “It’s okay. You were my burning bush.”

She didn’t know I was going through infertility. There wasn’t this blog, therefore she didn’t know about the secret promise between me and God. Only my mom (and therefore my dad), husband and cat knew about it.

It’s been 7 years since my burning bush moment, and 8 since the promise was first spoken, and there still hasn’t been an ultrasound picture. If anything, my hormones have gotten worse and my ol’ lady eggs have gotten older. Most people in my situation would have given up by now. But despite what it is, and what it seems to be, I still have hope.

And it’s because of Ol’ Ab.

You see, I never told you why his story was my favorite. Most people would assume it is because he had a promise and I have a promise, therefore we can relate. But that’s not it at all. With or without the promise, I would still be able to see the word ‘possible’ tucked away within the ‘impossible’ and it’s because he taught me how. He was a man that could look at the reality of a situation and say, “It is what it is, but it’s not what it seems.”

It is impossible, yet it’s not impossible.

It is too late, yet it’s not too late.

The conditions of my body aren’t perfect, yet they are.

But the question is how. I believe the answer is found in Romans 4:20; it says that he was strengthened in his faith during that 25-year-long waiting period by giving Glory to God. For years, I would read this and assume that Abraham walked around his old tent wearing his old clothes while singing the old hymn, “Glory, Glory Hallelujah…Glory, Glory Hallelujah!” And you know? He might have. He was Father Abraham. But if you dig deeper into this scripture passage you will find that the word Glory is translated to the Hebrew word KABOD, which means weight. Abraham gave weight to God. He didn’t focus on his weakness or the difficulty of the situation. If he had, then he would have given up in despair. Instead, He focused on the faithfulness and power of God to change His circumstances. During the wait, he put his weight in God.

Real talk? Many of us, including myself at times, give too much weight to the wrong things. We give too much weight to the facts. Too much weight to our past failures and disappointments. Too much weight to our feelings. And when do this, we weigh ourselves down and lose our hope. And maybe that is you. If so, it’s time to shift your weight by shifting your focus; asking yourself, is the way I see it the way it really is?”

Because His body was as good as dead, but was it dead?

Your situation seems impossible, but is it impossible?

It appears it’s too late, but is it too late?

I want to make an important distinction because this isn’t about denying our reality and living in a state of delusion. Abraham never denied that his body was worthless. There is no doubt in my mind that he often looked around at his situation and said, “it is what it is” … he might have even looked across the tent at his wife, Sarah, and said, “it was what it was” … But while Abraham faced the facts, he also kept the faith. In other words, he stood in the middle. He wasn’t delusional…yet he also didn’t fall into the pit of despair. Instead he stood firmly in the gap…the gap between what it is and what it seems. Faith is what bridges that gap. It shows the hope within a barren womb. The word possible inside every impossibility. The power of God in the face of a problem.

Sweet friend, whatever you are facing today, have hope that it’s not the end. There is more to what you can see. I wish my Grandma were here to pat you on your knee and tell you those words just as she told them to me several years ago before she passed away. It was 2012, right before my first fertility treatment. My husband and I rented a house from her that was located directly in her backyard. As the nosey neighbor that she was she always knew of our coming and going. This meant that on the eve of our embryo transfer when we would need to travel and stay overnight, she would take notice. My mom suggested that I tell her we would be gone…and being the paranoid religious person I was back then I didn’t want to even tell a “white lie” and have God punish me by not allowing me to get pregnant (eye roll…I know, irrational thought). And so, one afternoon I walked over to her house and together we sat on her front porch as I told her as much as I could about infertility and science; not expecting a 93-year-old woman to understand. Once I was finished, I took a deep breath and expected the worst. After all, at this point she was running her fingers down the front seams of her polyester pants while rocking back and forth in her stationary chair. But, to my surprise she didn’t tell me all the things I expected to hear; you know, how I need to stop playing God or maybe “it’s just not meant to be.” Instead, she went on to tell me her gut-wrenching , yet heartfelt story.

I’m not sure how I never put 2 and 2 together but my Uncle Ronnie was 20 years older than my mom. And so, while there wasn’t a term for secondary infertility in the 1940s, looking back that’s what it was. She went on to say that shortly after he was born my Grandad went to war, and when he returned, they tried for baby #2; but baby #2 never game. Even despite the tests and limited procedures which were offered to her during that time, she never could conceive. As a result, she lost hope and gave up. However, in her mid-40s and while going through menopause she surprisingly became pregnant. With tears in her eyes she told me that she was so angry at God. “Why now?!” she would scream. But then feel shame cover her as this was an answer to a once desperate prayer. She says looking back, it all makes sense.

You see, my Uncle Ronnie had passed away decades earlier from diabetes; my Grandad was also gone. This left only my mother to care for her. She went on to say that if she would have conceived her when she wanted then my mom would be in her 70’s trying to care for her, a woman in her 90s. About that time my Grandma looked over at me and said, “Your mom is my angel—a true gift from God. He knew what He was doing when He gave me a child at such a late age in life.” She then looked down, ran her fingers along the seams of her polyester pants once more before finally looking back over at me and saying, “I couldn’t understand God’s timing then, but I can see it now. He doesn’t put expiration dates on our dreams, nor do the conditions of our bodies need to be perfect.” Together we sat in silence before I got up to leave. Looking back to that afternoon, I realize that while she didn’t say it, she said it: It is what it is, but it’s not what it seems. 

Sweet friend, my situation might look impossible. His promises might appear to be broken. And the same might appear to be true for you too. But learn from Ol’ Ab. Remember the story of my Grandma. Then hold tight. For where there is hope, there is faith; and where there is faith, there are miracles.

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!


He Settles the Barren: Stories to Inspire Hope (Part 3)

It’s so easy to read a story of someone else who was healed, restored, or redeemed and think…“That’s great for them. But that won’t happen for me.” And I get it. It’s sometimes our knee jerk reaction to dismiss them as nothing more than just “that person’s story.” But do you know what the word testimony means? In Hebrew, it comes from a root word that means ‘do it again.’ Therefore every time a testimony is spoken, it comes with it God’s covenant to repeat the miracle. This is the reason why I have decided to begin sharing the many testimonies sent to me through email. I want to create an atmosphere for the miracle to be duplicated. I want you to have a place to be able to come and immerse yourself in the power that a testimony can hold. Because if God did it for them, He can do it again. And why not He do it again for you? After all, He does not show favoritism (Romans 2:11). Therefore as you read, open yourself up to the possibility that what He did for them, He is not only able, but also willing to do for you. May their story bring hope and healing to yours.

After three years of being in the storm, and doctors telling my husband and I that it was not only impossible, but probably not probable due to only having one fallopian tube, our little rainbow is due in about 4-5 weeks. There are times I still can’t believe it. To all of those who are still in the storm, I encourage you to never give up believing and to always keep praying. Because while the doctors said “I’m sorry, but it probably won’t happen without major intervention”, our God said, “Sit back, hold my coke and watch this!” Without any medication, human intervention, and only one tube, our Mighty God showed up and showed out! I am believing that the same can happen for you.

My husband and I were unable to conceive. In fact, we were given a 0.4 chance of conceiving naturally, so we went the IVF route…three failed rounds later, and with our last embryo left, I wanted to get my body back into the best shape before transfer. I ate healthy, exercised regularly, and was six lbs away from my goal weight when the God of all miracles opened my womb and we conceived my son naturally…a true miracle. When doctors say it’s impossible, God says it’s possible. But not only that,our last embryo also became a positive pregnancy and we are officially one month away from giving birth to our second child. Our infertility journey was long…there were times that we wanted to give up…but we held onto hope and the belief that God could do anything. To whomever is reading this, I encourage you to please hold onto that same hope and belief as well. For Psalm 37:4 says, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” Sending hugs out to many of you who know this journey far too well.

I had basically given up hope that I would get pregnant. It had been over two years since my second miscarriage and we had even stopped trying. However, while in the midst of becoming foster parents (something we still want to do), I discovered I was pregnant. As hard (and frustrating, annoying, and depressing) as it can be to hear it, everyone who ever told me that it was all about God’s timing was right. He doesn’t care about age (I’ll be 39 years old next month), nor does He care about having ONE ovary, multiple cysts, uterine fibroids or endometriosis. How do I know? Because this miracle we are expecting…the one with a very active and strong heartbeat…is proof of that.

My husband and I tried for over three years to conceive. One year we tried naturally and two years with a fertility specialist. It was the absolute worst experience that I have ever been through as it completely broke me. The only thing that ever made me feel better was the Waiting for Baby Bird online support group. To know I wasn’t alone and that my feelings, heartbreak, and anguish were “normal,” and even common for others, made me feel better; or as better as one could feel. Needless to say, having those “me too” moments meant the world to me. At one point, we were told there was nothing else the doctor’s could do. So, after multiple procedures, failed IUI cycles, countless shots, and one surgery, my husband and I were done. Again, it was through your blog that helped ease the pain and heartbreak of “letting go.” However, after some much needed time away from the stress and pressure of trying to conceive, I once more gathered enough hope and strength to try one more IUI, and guess what?! It worked! Our sweet miracle was born in October of last year. But that doesn’t mean I am going to stop participating in the online group because I vowed from day one of finding out that we were pregnant to never forget what it was like before. I want to encourage and support other women. I want to remind them their feelings are normal, their pain is valid, and it’s okay to take breaks. But to also remind them to never stop believing in miracles because like the quote says, “when the world says give up, hope whispers try it one more time.”

I read something the other day that said, “It’s crazy how much life can change in one year.” This, of course, got me thinking about the past year. I had a very difficult time conceiving. Years of trying and years of failing It takes a lot out of a person. Every month hoping that this would be the month and every month feeling like a failure as a wife and a women when it didn’t happen. Going through all of the tests to essentially be told nothing is wrong. This time last year, I had gone through my third round of Clomid (fertility medication) and still nothing. My doctor wanted to switch medications but after weighing my options, I was done. I was tired and stressed and just…done. I looked at my husband and let him know I needed a break because I couldn’t do it anymore. His response was nothing short of supportive. He had seen what I would go through each month when it didn’t happen and he understood the pressure I was under. However, one day, I took a pregnancy test “just because” and I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was there! The positive result I had been waiting for was there! I woke my husband up because I thought I was crazy but he saw it too! A year ago, we found out we were going to be parents. and now we have an amazing 4 month old who we love so much. So yeah, it’s crazy how much your life can change in just 12 short months. 

There was a time in my life in which I always viewed myself as broken and assumed my husband married the wrong one. But then one day, I decided that I was no longer going to own the identity placed upon me. Nor was I going to own my diagnosis or the odds stacked up against me. Instead, I drew closer to God and embraced the idea that we would be the exception to the rule. And guess what? We are! I am expecting a perfectly, healthy baby boy in May. If I could encourage anyone going through infertility it would be this: Don’t stay in the fail zone too long. Don’t unpack and live there. Do feel those feelings, but then let them go. With me being bullheaded enough to refuse to accept our diagnosis and believe that God would see us worthy of a miracle is what I know made our journey possible. 

I have been where each of you who are struggling with infertility have been. We tried for eight years. We went through five IUI’s and many failed pregnancy tests. I was angry and miserable. I know people mean the best when they say it will happen at the right time, but I wanted to spit in their faces. My bitterness would overtake me to the point that I could not even look at someone who was pregnant. My husband and I prayed and prayed about what to do, and which path to take. We decided to go through IVF, which is very taxing on your body. The first cycle we became pregnant but lost the baby at 6 weeks. I will never forget that moment when the doctor told me I lost my child like it was no big deal. I cried my eyes out and could not even get out of bed for days. I went for a D&C procedure* with my ob/gyn and he performed one more ultrasound before surgery, and guess what? My baby still had a heartbeat! My God performed a miracle! My little girl has such a testimony about how great God is because HE is the only reason I have her. I am praying for each of you because no one knows how it feels unless they have been there.  

Definition of D&C: Dilation (or dilatation) and curettage (D&C) refers to the dilation (widening/opening) of the cervix and surgical removal of part of the lining of the uterus and/or contents of the uterus by scraping and scooping (curettage). It is a therapeutic gynecological procedure as well as the most often used method of first trimester miscarriage.

My husband Jacob and I prayed for a baby for several years. In May, I finally went to a Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) for fertility testing after four years of never seeing a positive pregnancy test. The doctors did a lot of blood work and called me back a week later to inform me that told my AMH (egg count) was zero. They ran the test once more; and again, it was zero. We were told our options were IVF or adoption but we decided to pray before making a decision. On June 30th, our preacher delivered a message on Hezekiah and how Hezekiah brought his burden (the letter) to the Lord. At the end of the message, our preacher encouraged us to write our burden down and bring it to the Lord. I wrote down my burden for a baby and we prayed over it. At the end of the service our pastor said, “I believe some miracles are going to happen”. Of course I was praying that the miracle would be our baby. Two days later, I took a pregnancy test and it was positive! I know that was God’s miracle! After four years of trying and praying we had just been told it was never going to happen, but God had a miracle in store for us! Please, don’t EVER give up on God no matter what miracle you may be praying for.

He Settles the Barren: Stories to Inspire Hope (Part 1)

He Settles the Barren: Stories to Inspire Hope (Part 2)

Other Testimonies

If you have a testimony that you would like to share, please email me at 10hopeingod@gmail.com

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!