“A one in a million chance of conceiving on our own,” these were the words that echoed from my husband as he spoke to our infertility specialist over the phone. My heart broke, but pretending to be hopeful, we laughed through tears saying, “So you’re sayin’ there’s a chance.”  We know we serve a God that can move mountains, and one in a million is nothing for Him. So we waited. We waited two years before mustering the courage to see an infertility specialist.

After receiving this news, we went back to work, serving in our church, and witnessing the births of many friends and family. Pretending to be fine becomes a way of life. The longer I put on the façade, the more I believed that I was fine. After being the subject of invasive testing, we both agreed that the medical intervention recommended by our infertility specialist was not the route we were called to walk.

The medical testing triggered suppressed memories of a past abortion that I had hidden and never spoken of to anyone. At 15 years old, before ever meeting my husband, my life was changed and no amount of sorrow, forgiveness, or regret could reverse the decision that was made from the loss of my baby. The shame and unrelenting torment were unbearable. 

Finding out that we would likely not have biological children sent me into depression, and there were times I felt that death would be my only escape from the pain. I was isolated and ashamed that if anyone knew about my abortion that the truth would be revealed: I was getting exactly what I deserved.

My loving husband, concerned for my well-being, recommended I seek counseling, and that led me to a Bible study called “Forgiven and Set Free,” facilitated by an amazingly compassionate woman who had experienced healing from her abortion. With her help, intense prayer, and the grace of God, I believe I am truly forgiven and set free from the chains of abortion.  Without this healing, I could not have faced the journey ahead.

Many years passed in the blink of an eye with unanswered, empty arms, and then we received a call from a friend offering a unique situation involving a baby girl needing an adoptive family. “Could this be the answer to our prayers?” Without hesitation we accepted, and a whirlwind of paperwork, attorney fees, and training ensued. Within three weeks, we retained an attorney, chose an adoption agency, and set a court date. As the three day adoption training approached, we received a call from our friend saying that the temporary placement that was caring for this precious baby girl decided to pursue adoption.  As these words flow out of me now, my heart still breaks at the immeasurable loss that I was not prepared to handle in my own strength.  How do I grieve over a child that was never mine?

Even though she was not mine to hold, she held my heart. There was no greeting card saying, “Sorry about your failed adoption” or support that recognized that each passing holiday, baby dedication, and even birthdays overpowered my emotions with intense sorrow, hidden behind an insincere smile.  How does a husband comfort his wife when he is grieving in his own way? And oh how our grieving was so different and unique.

Five more years passed as I continued to ignore the nagging unresolved anguish. With time, the ache in my heart waned, but not a day passed that I didn’t think about being a mother. My thoughts were consumed by motherhood: praying, planning, hoping, and pleading with God. “How long must I wait?” only to be answered with silence. Time is my teacher, as God revealed my true heart was full of fear, anger, and bitterness. Relying on scripture was my way of preaching the truth to myself daily.

However, I was wrestling with God and questioning His sovereign plan above my hopes. Confusion led the way as we were seeking God for answers. Do we pursue adoption, fostering, or do we accept that our journey in life may be childless? These questions set me on a quest to seek God with my whole heart. My mind was so polluted by my heart’s desire to be a mother that I could no longer see the true character of God.

Unexpectedly, my husband said to me, “What if God’s answer to our prayer for children is no?” My heart was not prepared to accept that answer, and it deeply wounded me. A desperate online search for infertility and adoption loss led me to a Facebook page named “Hearts like Hannah’s.”

Anxiously I drove, not knowing who or what was waiting for me. Upon arrival, my heart was immediately at ease from the kind and open environment these ladies provided in a safe place to share my long journey.  Through ongoing support, the joy of the Lord is replacing my mourning with praise, and there is great healing knowing I am not alone. Likewise, they have taught me to allow myself grace when I do not live up to “my” unrealistic hopes and expectations. This journey continues to teach me to seek God first in every circumstance and put my faith in Him. Looking for blessings in unforeseen places in the midst of this harrowing battle, I cling to His promise in Matthew 5:4, “God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”