For 1,840 days, I tried to have a baby.
Like so many couples, Kevin and I thought having a baby would be a blessing that came easily. But like 1 in 8 American couples, it did not. A year went by, and I became one, out of the 1 in 4 women who have a miscarriage. Then I had another.
After two years, I began intense fertility medications. Four months later, I was able to conceive a miracle, Eli. Even with a traumatic birth, a NICU stay and a high-risk pregnancy, shortly after Eli’s first birthday, we began to dream of another baby. We thought it would be easier; God had shown us a way. It was harder.
Sunday after Sunday, I wrote prayers on strips of paper, stuffed into Schweitzer’s walls: “God, send us a baby in your time.” Sunday after Sunday, empty arms, tear-drenched worship songs, praying for a miracle or guidance.
After two years of the medications that brought us Eli, we began invasive fertility treatments: shots, scans, exams, blood draws, therapy, restrictions, negative tests, and utter devastation. After five months of it, my soul was weary. In the church sanctuary, slowly and all at once, I gave up hope of ever having another child. But Kevin had hope when I had none left, and on our knees in prayer in the darkest winter, we began our final month of treatment.
My doctor delivered the devastating news: I had a two percent chance of conceiving in March 2022. But in the bleakest time of my life, God made a way for a new life. Evelyn Margaret was born healthy on Dec. 2, 2022. We lit a candle on Schweitzer’s altar honoring her life on Jan. 8, in the same place where we prayed for her a thousand times.
Even in the darkest of times, when life truly feels hopeless, God is with us. He is making a way through. We endure the night because the dawn comes.
During Lent, we experience that darkness – but Jesus brings new light, and hope, into our world. This Easter, I’ll be holding a miracle in my arms.
Your life is a miracle, too. Believe it.