After we adopted our son, I thought that the heartache infertility brought would lessen, and it did (for a very short time). But as he neared his third birthday, I ached and longed for another child. After all, a two or three year age gap between babies seemed reasonable. As my heart began to ache, I remember referring to infertility as the “Monster of Infertility.” I envied couples that had more control over deciding when and whether they would add to their families. There was no way of knowing if we would get to adopt again, or if our son would grow up an only child. I grew up in a big family, and I dreamed of having at least four children. The heartache grew each day, so I began to cry out to God in prayer once again, begging Him for another child. 

Around this same time, my son began praying for a baby sister during his bedtime prayer. It struck me as odd that he was praying for a baby sister instead of a baby brother. After this occurred every night for some time I caught myself looking at baby girl clothing in the store, and began dreaming of having a baby girl. One thing that helped me when I was hurting was listening to or reading stories of couples who overcame infertility. God seemed to answer each couple’s prayer for children very differently. One story in particular that stuck out to me was about a woman who was holding her adoptive newborn son for the first time, and as she held him she prayed in gratitude, “Thank-you, God, for the gift of infertility!” I couldn’t understand how she could say the that! While I understood that God had answered her prayers, I couldn’t see how she could say thank-you for the “Monster of Infertility.” 

During this time the Holy Spirit really spoke to me about letting Him be in control, rather than trying to maintain control myself. This wasn’t the first time I had struggled with letting go and trusting Him. In my mind I was afraid I would let go, and God would deny me more children. My struggle with trusting God began as a kid. My maternal grandma was diagnosed with bone cancer when I was little, and we prayed for her to be healed. However, she passed away. Her death was so painful, and even today I miss her dearly. I saw this same scenario happen over and over again within the church. Even though I truly loved the Lord, I didn’t trust Him. In my head I thought it made serving God easier for me, because if you assume the answer is no how can you get angry when it is? 

The Holy Spirit began to work on my heart in this area. He used different things to speak to me. I remember the first time I listened to a song called, “I Can Trust You,” by Rebecca St. James, I cried. The song lyrics expressed exactly what my heart felt. 

“Yes, I know that You have paved a path for me
Yes, I know that You see what I do and don’t need
But when it comes to the deepest things
I have a hard time relinquishing control
Letting go

“God, it hurts to give You what I must lay down
But when I let go, freedom’s found
God, it hurts to give You what I’ve held so dear
Because of Your love it’s clear
I can trust You with this
I can trust You with me
I can trust You

“Lord, I know that You are worthy of my trust
For You have shown me time and time again
You’re faithful and yet
I’m so scared of letting go of this
Afraid of what You might do with it
How could I forget who You are like this

“Me forsaking
Heart is breaking
I let go of what I’ve held so tight
Freedom’s mine now
For the taking
I move in faith, not by sight
Let Your will be done.”

During this time of struggle everyday life continued as normal. My husband worked outside of the home, and I made my living as an in-home daycare provider. This allowed me to be with my son everyday, and still contribute to our income. We also went to church faithfully each Sunday. 

One morning in Sunday School, our teacher spoke about things that challenge our faith in God. She gave us all a piece of paper to write down things we felt have been taken from us that had caused us to struggle. I wrote down a few different things, but the one I remember was, “My babies. Will I get to have more?”I placed the paper in my Bible, and let it leave my mind as Sunday morning service began. The church we were attending at that time always ended the service with an altar call. Often times I would go up front to just spend time in prayer before the Lord. That week as I prepared to go up front I felt the Lord impress on my heart to take that note to the altar, and symbolically leave it in His hands.

I would love to say that I complied with what the Holy Spirit was telling me to do that day, but I was afraid someone would see that note and read it. So I didn’t do it. As I began to drive home I felt so much conviction for not being obedient. I knew that I was being led to let go, and trust God with more children. The very next Sunday morning during the altar call I did tearfully leave that note on the altar. I crumpled it up hoping that whoever saw it there would just throw it away. I nervously left it, and then I instantly felt a release within. 

Two mornings later on an unseasonably warm Tuesday morning I had all of the daycare kids and my son outside to play. They were having fun jumping in the piles of leaves that I was raking. In the middle of playing outside my husband came out to me with our cordless phone in hand. He told me that social services had just called. That seemed odd to me because our son’s adoption had already been finalized. I asked why and he said, “They have a newborn baby at the hospital, and no mother. They want to know if we would want the baby.”

“Give me the phone!” I wanted to call them back before they called someone else to take the baby home. My adrenaline was so high that I had to make more than one attempt to dial social service’s phone number. When I finally dialed right, the same caseworker we had for our son chuckled a bit as she answered the phone. She commented that it didn’t take us long to call back. 

She then went on to explain to me that a young woman had come to the hospital the day before. She had been in the last stages of child birth when she had arrived. The young woman had told the hospital staff in the emergency room that she knew from day one that she couldn’t keep the baby. She requested that as soon as the baby was born that they take the baby out of the room immediately, and that they didn’t tell her the baby’s gender. Although she hadn’t received any prenatal care, she told the doctor that as soon as she knew she was pregnant she didn’t drink alcohol, and had eaten a diet that would make the baby healthy. Our caseworker also told us that they believed the biological mother had given them an alias name, and that this case fell under the Safe Haven laws in our state. This law allows parents to safely and legally surrender their babies at emergency rooms or fire stations without any question or criminal charges. 

Our caseworker told me that the baby was healthy and strong. As we talked, she made me understand that this wasn’t a guarantee that we would get to adopt this baby. The biological mother could change her mind, or the biological father, and any other family member could come forward and gain custody of the baby. It was definitely a risk, but one we wanted to take! She described the baby as beautiful and perfect, and that the hospital staff was taking really good care of the baby. We agreed that I would go to the hospital as soon as I could get our son to a babysitter, take a shower, call all of my daycare kids’ parents, and get them sent home. As I was about to hang up with the caseworker I had one last question! I asked, “It doesn’t matter either way to me, but is the baby a boy or a girl?” She chuckled again and said, “She is a baby girl!” I was so excited! I would need to get to the hospital as soon as possible, and later after my husband had finished his appointments he would join me. 

Three hours after my call ended with our caseworker, I was walking into the hospital. My stomach had butterflies, and I was excited! I remember being led to the upstairs level of our small local hospital to the nurses station. After showing them my driver’s license to ensure I was really the person I said I was, a nurse led me into a hospital room. I looked around, and it appeared empty. The nurse then closed the door, and behind the door was a baby bed. 

As I walked over to the baby bed with the nurse I could see a sleeping newborn baby with all swaddled with a hospital cap on her head. The nurse told me I could pick her up, and so I did! My beautiful baby girl began waking up, and our eyes locked. My heart was filled with so much love in that moment, and I knew I never wanted to put that little one down! After a little while she began to fuss, and I was allowed to feed her a bottle. I remember that after she drank a good amount of milk, was burped, and had a diaper change she snuggled up in my arms and fell back asleep. While she slept I just stared at her in absolute amazement. I began to thank God for her, and through teary eyes without thinking I remember saying, “Thank-you Lord for the gift of infertility!” It hit me that it was due to infertility that we had adopted our son, and that I was holding my beautiful baby daughter!

I was alone with our baby girl for a few hours before my husband and our caseworker arrived. After spending quite a bit of time just enjoying my time alone with her, I did call more family and friends to let them know about her. My joy and happiness was overflowing! 

The doctor wanted the baby to stay in the hospital for one more night to observe her a little longer since there had been no prenatal care. During that time we had received several calls offering us baby items that we didn’t have. One of the families that I provided childcare for lent us their baby bassinet. Others began dropping off baby girl clothing, bottles, diapers, and so much more. The amount of support was overwhelming! By the end of that evening, we had almost everything that we needed for this precious little one. 

My husband and I spent some time alone with our baby girl, and took turns holding and feeding her. We had a few visitors, but most planned to wait until after we brought the baby home to meet her. As evening came, my husband left to pick up our son, and to pack an overnight bag for me. I was going to stay the night in the hospital with our baby, and he was going to stay the night at home with our son, who was only six days away from his third birthday. 

When I was alone again with our baby, an older woman came in our hospital room. She had been one of the volunteers who had stayed the first night with our baby. She was teary eyed, but joyful at the same time. The woman shared with me that she was a young teenager when she had given birth to her first child. Since things were done differently years ago when she had given her baby up for adoption she didn’t even get a chance to even hold her baby. I listened as she shared with me how spending hours rocking and holding our baby gave her a sense of healing after all of those years. She told me that seeing the love I already had for my daughter gave her comfort about her baby having been placed in someone else’s arms. After she left I prayed that God would continue to heal her heart, and thanked Him for His goodness. 

I will never forget holding both of my children in my arms that night in the hospital, and being so humbled and thankful! Our daughter’s adoption was finalized when she was nine months old. God’s plan for our family and how it was built was better than any plan I could’ve had!

As I hung up the phone my heart was racing, and I didn’t know how to keep my excitement contained! I had just talked to my mother-in-law who was a licensed foster parent and mother of four. She had two sons by birth, and two by adoption. She had called to tell me that she had found out about a little one year-old boy that needed an adoptive home. She had suggested my husband and me to the foster home coordinator.

My husband and I had recently become foster parents, and while we knew we wanted to adopt children we didn’t know what the journey was going to entail. Both of us had just turned twenty-one, and at the age of twenty were told that we were infertile. We had planned to have biological children, and then become foster/adoptive parents when we were seasoned parents. My heart broke so much for older children who aged out of foster care without a forever home. At first the idea of becoming foster parents at such a young age seemed impossible. We feared that we would do more harm than good. But God is persistent! It seemed like every newspaper I picked up had articles about the thousands of foster children waiting for parents to adopt them. When I slept I had dreams of being a foster/adopt mom. It seemed like everywhere we turned the message was loud and clear, we were supposed to pursue foster parenting. The last confirmation came from a lady at our church. She didn’t have any way of knowing what we were contemplating, but one Sunday she came up to us and said, “You know that you two are supposed to become foster parents, right?!” It was that day that we decided to go through the process to get our foster parent license, and trust God with our future.

After talking it over, we made the call to human services and left a message for the foster home coordinator, saying that we were interested in talking to her about this little boy. We had finished the majority of our foster license requirements. There were a few minor training requirements we needed to finish up, and we were in the process of buying our first home. At that time, our current living situation wouldn’t have been a good fit for a growing family. The foster home coordinator put us in touch with the little boy’s caseworker, and we set up a sit down meeting with her. There were definitely hurdles that needed to be overcome.

I’ll never forget sitting in her office, and the long conversation we had. Just like any foster adoption there is the risk that it won’t work out. The goal of the foster care system is to reunite children with their biological families. If that isn’t possible that is when children can be adopted by a non-relative. The case worker also told us the details of this little one’s case. All foster children, no matter the age, deal with trauma and abandonment. She wanted to be open and honest about the potential hardships we could face. We listened intently to her, and then decided that we wanted to meet him. My favorite part of the conversation came at the end. She pulled out a colored page of printed pictures of the little boy. There was a picture of him in a duck costume, and of him holding a bat by a tee-ball stand. He had dark skin, brown eyes, brown hair, and was pretty skinny. I think it was right then that I began loving my son!

A few weeks after that conversation, we drove two hours to a bigger city where our son was currently in placement. I remember the butterflies that were fluttering in my stomach as we walked up his foster parents’ driveway. His caseworker had met us there, and was going to supervise the visit. As soon as his foster mother opened the door I could see him. He was sitting in a booster seat at their dining room table.

The first thing I noticed was his big brown eyes, and long eyelashes! He climbed down from the table and ran behind their living room couch. His foster mother informed us that he was extremely shy and had stranger anxiety. Our caseworker suggested that the visit might go well if she, our son, and my husband and me went outside away from his foster parents. We stepped outside with bubbles, and almost instantly he was giggling and trying to pop the bubbles! We had broken the ice!

After awhile he wanted to do something different, so the three of us followed him around the backyard and just played with him. At one point he tripped and began to cry. I wanted so badly to scoop him up, but our caseworker put her hand up to stop me. He knew her, and she wanted to make sure he was completely comfortable with us before there was any kind of physical contact. When he had calmed down she suggested we take him to the swing. She told me to go ahead and push him. My husband and I took turns pushing him. He loved it, and was warming up more and more to us! After awhile his eyes began to get heavy, and our caseworker told me that I could take him out of the swing and carry him into the house.

As I lifted him out of the swing I was worried he would get scared and start crying. Instead he laid his head on my shoulder and relaxed! My heart began to overflow! When we reached the house his foster mother showed me a rocking recliner chair. I sat down, and he stayed relaxed. I was brought his favorite blanket, and they carefully removed his shoes. It only took a few minutes for him to fall asleep. I remember feeling so much love for him, and I didn’t want to ever put him down! I remember thinking, “This is how every new mother must feel the first time their child is put in their arms!”

His foster parents and caseworker commented on how surprised they were that he felt comfortable enough with me to fall asleep in my arms. When they suggested it was time to carry him to his crib so he could take a proper nap, I didn’t want to comply! I had my son in my arms for the first time, and I didn’t want to let go! I didn’t want to leave! But it was important to go slow for his sake. After I carried him to his crib, and looked at him for a minute it was time to head home.

We thanked his foster parents for their hospitality, and agreed that we would be setting up our next visit very soon. I didn’t know it at the time, but his foster parents would leave an incredible impression on us. They would also give us very simple advice that we would carry with us throughout our foster parent journey. I still maintain contact with our son’s foster mother to this day. They’re retired from foster parenting now, but they fostered over fifty children! Our son was very blessed to have been in their home before coming home to us.

We wanted to do what was best for our son, so we agreed to take things slow and make the transition from his foster home into ours as easy on him as possible. At first we would visit him for a few hours in his foster home once a week. Then, we would take him out with just us for several hours. When we would take him back to their house I would give him a bath, put pajamas on him, and cuddle with him until he went to bed. After awhile we were able to take him home for weekend visits! It was always so hard to take him back, and leave him there for the week. Finally, ten days before his second birthday we were able to bring him home for good!