I don’t post much about my faith. And yet, it permeates everything I do and every moment of my life. When we first decided to start trying to expand our family, we prayed for God’s hand in timing. He had brought us through every other major event in our lives; why would having a baby be any different? I prayed that the baby would be healthy, that I wouldn’t have too much morning sickness, that our finances would be in order. I never thought to pray about actually getting pregnant.
Like so many other women, I just assumed that once we started trying, pregnancy would happen soon (if not immediately). At 22, I never expected to have any problems. Isn’t the whole point of high school health class to instill the fear of pregnancy in you? Look at a boy, and you’ll be knocked up before you can say ‘prom night.’ And yet, here I was, married and ready, and the pregnancy tests I took were all negative.
So I continued to pray for God’s timing. I continued to have faith that when it was supposed to happen, I would get pregnant. And, I continued to be convinced that any day now, the obsessive peeing on sticks would result in the positive I wanted so badly.
Though it’s easy to tell the world that you have faith, internally it is much harder to keep that faith when things don’t go your way. Though I told God that I trusted his timing, what I really meant was that I trusted that he would do what I wanted, when I wanted it. By the sixth month of trying without success, I began to lose heart. I grew frustrated that God was telling me ‘no.’ I grew angry with people who told me ‘It will happen when it is supposed to.’ And I grew increasingly more bitter with those who seemed to get pregnant by accident.
As the months dragged by, as doctors and nurses and reproductive endocrinologists insisted there was nothing really wrong with us, I turned to God again, demanding to know when exactly this baby would be given to us. After all, so many (well-meaning but ignorant) people I knew insisted that a woman’s sole purpose was to bear children. And yet, somehow, I was reassured that, despite our circumstances, we would be parents one day. It may be through treatments, it may be through adoption or foster parenting, but one day, we would have a child.