The theme for this year’s National Infertility Awareness Week has been “flip the script.” It’s been amazing to see all the stories that have been shared over the past week of God’s goodness and His faithfulness in the middle of so much pain. It’s also been amazing to hear of miracle after miracle that He has performed in the stories of so many.
I might be experiencing delayed fertility, but that is not who I am. Infertility is NOT the end of my story. I was so honored to join with so many others in sharing my story on my dear friend, Caroline’s blog today! Head over to read the hope that is found in between every line..
Most of the time, it’s easy for me to look at ugly and have eyes to see beyond, how beautiful it will one day be.
It’s easy for me to do this, because I know who Father is. I’m learning more and more of His heart. That it’s only in His character to do good and be good and give good. He turns bitter into sweet. He raises beauty up from the ashes. He redeems and rewrites and restores. When you know who He is, it’s easy to see past the ugly. Because when you walk in your true identity, a daughter knows her Papa will always rush in. He’ll come to the rescue. It’s just who He is, it’s what He does.
Christmas was always a measure of time for me
“Maybe next Christmas we’ll have a baby.”
Next Christmas would come and go, but with each passing year, it was harder and harder to believe. More than most times of the year, the ache couldn’t be escaped. The family Christmas cards that would pile in, the commercials of those sweet ones opening all their toys, and the line filled with excited faces and cute outfits at the mall waiting for Santa, it all just screamed at me. Reminding me of what I didn’t have. Yet wanted so desperately.
And then almost three years ago, four days before Christmas, we brought home one of our favorite gifts, our daughter. Not that Christmas needed redeeming, Jesus did that when He came, but how sweet of Him to send us our baby girl in a season that had brought so much pain?
I have two beautiful children. They are both answers to hundreds of prayers. I remember watching mamas put their babies in car seats at the grocery store and wishing so much that one day I would get to do that simple thing. My kids at school would sometimes slip up and call me “Mama.” They would cover their mouth real fast and with a wide grin, say, “I mean, Mrs. Satterfield.” But hearing someone call me “Mama” was a longing that stretched to the depth of my heart. Now, every morning I wake to that sweet calling. That name echoes through the baby monitor that sits on my nightstand.
Their stories, the way my children came home to us, are nothing short of miracles. The very same night we decided to start our adoption journey, a man from our church whom we had never met, gave us a check for 10,000 dollars. This was one of the many miracles that brought them home. I still tear up thinking about how God calmed every one of our fears and supplied all of our needs. He sets the lonely in families and when He does, years of brokenness fade into beauty.
He has answered my prayer to be a mama in the most beautiful story. I love all of the parts. I can’t imagine our family without those two precious ones sleeping upstairs. This what I’m about to tell you isn’t about them. It’s about another prayer that I’ve prayed for years, that God still hasn’t answered.