As the years have passed, the gifts, cards, and text messages cheering me on in my battle with infertility are few and far between. And I get it. As time marches on, I have come to realize people are naturally excited for you in the beginning, as everyone around you has their cheerleader pom-poms out, letting you know they are cheering you on. And obviously, arriving at the end of your journey is also an exciting time filled with lots of celebration and rejoicing over the goodness and faithfulness of God. But then there is the middle. What can you do for the person in the middle?
I Said Something Insensitive to My Best Friend
We've all been there. We have had someone say something insensitive to us in conversation, and we get bitter or even angry as we tell them why their comment was rude. Or better yet, give them the silent treatment, making a vow to ourselves that we wouldn't speak to them again. At least not until… Continue reading I Said Something Insensitive to My Best Friend
She said, “It’s okay, Mom. One day.”
Yesterday, I needed to travel from my small town in Illinois to the big city of Evansville, IN, to visit my mom, who landed herself in the hospital (she's going to be fine). After our visit, as most small-town folks do, I wanted to venture to Target. Ya know, just to see what I could… Continue reading She said, “It’s okay, Mom. One day.”
Is Infertility Punishment for My Past Sins?
Dear Waiting for Baby Bird, I come from the world's most fertile family. My Mom has four children, with the last born when she was 36. My Dad has five children, including twins born when my Stepmom was 42 and my Dad 52. My elder sister has two children, my younger sister has two children, and my brother has one. There is no history of infertility on either my or my husband's side. When I was younger, I was not a good Christian and did many things I was not supposed to. I proceeded to find God and dedicate myself to him. So, a question that keeps popping into my mind is, did I bring this on myself due to my previous actions?
And the Color Is Orange
On this day for the past seven years, my Dad has had a beautiful rose delivered to my doorstep. It's simply the sweetest gesture because it's his birthday, yet he thinks of me because it's Josiah Day, a different type of day I tend to celebrate. But while this selfless act is the sweetest, I believe the most thoughtful and encouraging aspect of this tradition is this: the flower is always a different color he strategically chooses.