So, by the time Andrew was 18 months old, we knew God was
saying no to having more children at the time.
And, as mentioned before, He provided so much peace about it, that we
knew we had discerned correctly. Yet,
even with that peace, I had to mourn the fact the we might not ever have any
more children. Yes, we were still open
to life, of course, but from the time after Andrew’s birth, until today, we
practiced NFP faithfully to avoid pregnancy.
And it took time to accept that we might not have any more
children. There were times when I would
hold a friend’s new born baby and then go home and cry because I knew I might
not ever know the joy of holding my own baby again. We live in a community where life is
celebrated and families are large.
Usually more than one friend is pregnant at a time. In those early days, each pregnancy
announcement was met with great joy for the friend, but often left me with an
empty feeling. I understood, in many
(I started writing this post months ago, but have not had time to refine it and finish it. I have felt the need to hit "publish" lately though. Maybe it is because Hope is too quickly approaching 12 months old and my desire to share it's sentiments would be lost soon. Or maybe it is because this week is the March for Life and the sacredness of life is before me in a precious little girl and I want to remember that, in words, here. But whatever the reason, here is our story of seeking God's will and and being open to life.)
Shortlyafter we announced that we wereexpectingbaby Hope, I felt that I needed to
share ourNFPstory. Partially, it was because
we had so many people say thingslike, "What a
miracle!" or share stories of how people they knew were infertile, adopted
and then had a baby of their own, thatI feltthat many people probably got the
wrong idea about why we had three boys, waited a while and adopted and then
found out we were expecting a baby wh…
Two years ago today, I was on the other side of the world. I woke up too early. Too excited and anxious to sleep. My husband and I lay in bed, chatting about the day ahead of us. After years of hoping and praying, the day that felt like it would only ever be in my dreams, was finally here. It was really real. And when a dream comes true, and you are in awe of God changing hearts and moving mountains to bring you to a moment, there is little more to do than to pray and praise. And so, we moved our conversation from our hotel room to the Catholic Church across the street. Yes, in a land where so few have ANY belief system, God saw it fitting to place us in a hotel that just happened to be across from a Catholic Church. And so we knelt in the back, as the faithful in the front, finished what must have been the rosary, and prayed. We prayed our own silent prayers as our ears were filled with the melodious sound of a rhythmic prayer in Mandarin.