As a little girl I played house with my dolls and taught school to my imaginary students. I babysat from the early age of10 all the way through college. You could say my ‘nurture’ gene was strong, and more than anything in life, I looked forward to being a mom.

 

It seemed easy enough. First, you find a husband. Then, you decide what time of year you want to have a baby and count backwards 9 months. You, yah-know, (ah-hem), and wah-la! You welcome your first child into the world.

 

So step 1… the college boyfriend thing had not worked out so I was back at square one. I waited. And I waited. I even moved across the country to get back to those Midwest roots where the men were more my style. And then I waited some more. And in between all of that waiting there was loneliness and heartache, pain and sadness. I watched my younger sister meet the man of her dreams and I cried myself to sleep, mourning a breakup.

 

I was well into the ‘round up, not down’ stage of my 20s and while I yearned for a husband, I trusted that the Lord had a plan. Finally, I had a (small) sense of peace. Then God opened the smallest, most random window and life was forever changed. Not long after, I had crossed off step 1 - check!

 

At our wedding, Seth and I were a few months shy of our 30th birthdays, so we figured we’d leave the timing of our future family in God’s hands and not intentionally prevent a pregnancy.  I remember that first month, our naivety pumping strong; I thought for sure we were pregnant. I was familiar with the unfortunate miscarriage statistics and knew that infertility was a thing, but was otherwise clueless. In my head, you chose which city you conceived in and strategically planned how much time you wanted between each child.

 

Now this makes me laugh. 20 months later, I’ve still never seen a positive pregnancy test. Not once. (I know they have two lines, but really – what do they look like??) I have gone from ‘trying to conceive’ the same time as a friend to celebrating her son’s first birthday barren, empty.

 

None of it makes sense, and about six months ago I made sure that God recognized just that. I pleaded with him to help me understand, to let me make sense of it all. Why are you making me wait again, Lord? Don’t you remember I waited forever to meet Seth? I watched almost every friend get married, and now I see bump after bump, pregnancy announcement after birth announcement, and I’m still here in the best shape of my life (kidding).

 

And then He shared it with me:

 

“Because I have a plan, and it is far better than any plan you can come up with in that crazy head of yours, so take a deep breath and let me handle it. I don’t want you to mess this up! It’s going to be so good. In the end, you will agree that it was worth it.” – Jesus

 

Some friends had told me a few stories of people they knew that had to wait some time for God’s provision for their family, and these stories were incredible! They were SO amazing that had I not been a believer, I think I would have started considering whether this Jesus guy was the real deal. I played these stories in my head over and over again, allowing the bit of hope that they provided to enter into this broken heart of mine.

 

I wanted more stories – they were a lifeline for me – and all of a sudden I realized how neat it would be to create a website full of stories of God’s faithfulness for those struggling with infertility, miscarriage, and adoption. After a few months of wrestling with my doubts and fears, this idea became a reality.

 

I don’t know if and when I’ll ever get pregnant. Seth and I always tell each other that no matter what, we will have a family. One way or another, God will provide us with a child (or five) because he has put this desire in our hearts to be parents. But the wait is tough and the pain is real, and sadly we are not alone in this.

 

All I know is that since the day I shared the first story on The Baby Wait, every negative test, every tear, every needle prick is all worth it. I get to be vulnerable and minister to the broken-hearted, reminding them that Jesus loves them. Because it’s really not about baby dust and ‘I’ve been good to you, God, so now you’ll be good to me.’ It’s about the love of a savior that extends to depths unknown, not based on our own merit, but as a sacrificial offering to the most undeserving. It’s about a promise that is for our good and is not against us. And it’s about the power of vulnerability, and finding the strength to trust in His plan. Because it is good. Always. 

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