The story begins with an ordinary day, a simple act of showing up. I walked into a speech therapy session, my mind preoccupied with the familiar routine. But that day, the routine was interrupted.

A beautiful foster mom sat in the foyer of her warm, life-filled home. Her children ran and played nearby, their laughter filling the room. As I stepped in, I was welcomed into their family’s village, embraced by their kindness and warmth. As I settled in, she asked a question that would change the course of our lives forever:

“Do you know anyone that might be able to adopt?”

It felt like time stopped. The words echoed in my heart, touching a place I hadn’t dared to let hope visit for years. It was as if a seed of possibility was being planted. Little did I know, the answer to her question would become the answer to a prayer written years before, tucked away in my husband’s gratitude journal since 2016. Yet, this happened on November 17, 2020.

Four years earlier, he had written, “Lord, if it’s Your will, bring forth a son.” I had no idea he’d written that prayer—not just once, but on every single page of his gratitude journal. And unbeknownst to him, he didn’t know how many nights I had spent crying out to God, aching for the child we had yet to hold.

The journey began quietly, like the unfolding of a miracle too big to see all at once. Over the next nine months, we walked a path full of hope, paperwork, and prayer, not realizing how beautifully orchestrated it all was. The moment finally came on a day already heavy with meaning—a day tied to both sorrow and healing.

It was a due date I had carried in my heart for years, tied to a miscarriage that had once left me shattered. But it was also the very same day we stood before a judge, holding hands, and became the parents of the most beautiful boy—our son.

God had taken the broken pieces of my story and made something beautiful. What once was a date of mourning became a day of indescribable joy. He had turned my sorrow into joy in a way I never imagined possible.

Fifteen years of tears fell in that virtual courtroom, but they were no longer tears of grief. They were tears of gratitude, awe, and love for the child we were finally able to call our own.

For anyone who knows the void of infertility, who feels the ache of unfulfilled longing, I want you to know this: your story isn’t over. There is still hope. The journey may not look the way you imagined, and it may take longer than your heart feels it can bear, but miracles have a way of finding us when we least expect them.

Sometimes, they come through a foster family asking a question. Sometimes, they come through a prayer written quietly in a journal. And sometimes, they come on the very day you thought joy was impossible.

Hold on. There is still hope. YOUR STORY IS NOT OVER!

Question
“If the deepest pain you’ve experienced was meant to prepare you for a purpose greater than you imagined, how might that change the way you view your journey?”