Category Archives: Infertility

Lighting the way for those children lost too soon, never forgotten, remaining forever in our hearts #waveoflight2017

15 Sunday Oct 2017

Posted by in Catholic Parenting, Change, Infertility, Love, Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Parenting, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Prayer, Seasons, SIDS, Suffering, Tough days, Wave of Light

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“There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless, supreme. If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would show only a woman looking down at her empty arms.” ~ Charlotte Brontë

 

A flicker of light,

a ray shining through,

cast out the shadow of loss inside my heart

warm the chill of remembrance within me.

 

Annually on October 15th, grieving parents around the globe light candles that illuminate their homes in solidarity, united by brilliant luminance and the heartbreak entrenched by the grief over the children they have lost prematurely or in early infancy. The seven o’clock hour on this day, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, ignites the sorrowful hearts and minds of those whose lives have been tragically impacted by the loss of a child from miscarriage, stillborn death, and SIDS.

It’s alarming to read that ten to fifteen percent of all confirmed pregnancies will end in miscarriage. (Source: https://www.marchofdimes.org/complications/miscarriage.aspx)

Even graver, to learn that over 23,000 babies each year are stillborn. (Source: https://www.marchofdimes.org/complications/stillbirth.aspx)

A grim report from the CDC states that 3,700 cases of SIDS were confirmed in 2015.(Source:  https://www.cdc.gov/sids/data.htm)

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” ~ A.A. Milne

 

Most every year, I write about my shared grief on this day. (You can read my past blog posts related to miscarriage here.) Miscarriage and baby loss has affected me distinctly and most profoundly, and these incredibly difficult experiences were, in fact, the initial driving force behind starting this blog years ago. Writing through the lingering grief in hope of discovering new sources of joy in motherhood, my intent in offering up these deeply personal stories of mine was, and still remains, rooted in wanting to reach a grieving mother (or father) at the right time in their own journey of grief founded in miscarriage or infant loss out searching for understanding, compassion, and hope. Some brave voices and compelling stories of strangers, comprised a sorrowful circle of mothers who had known loss like I had, were discovered by me in quiet desperation for answers, community, and reason. Through the melancholic melody of their words, these women offered my grieving heart comfort, validation, and most importantly, hope. I only hope my stories will be the same beacon of light for someone in need.

On that note, I would like to recommend a few well-written blogs penned by authors, much like myself, gravely affected by the loss of their own children:

https://www.freckleeyefancy.com/

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/

https://grievingoutloud.com/

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

 

Tonight at 7:00, my family and I will be lighting a candle to honor and remember the six children we lost in miscarriage, our angels: Agnes, Julian, Max, Catherine, John, and Francis.

“It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

 

Please join me in this special lighting ceremony, from wherever you read, to keep the light of remembrance aflame, and honor the hearts of their grieving parents and families.  #waveoflight

 

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” ~ Buddha

 

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Embracing Change with a Joyful Heart

06 Wednesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Catholic Parenting, Change, Infertility, Marriage, Motherhood, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Seasons, The Husband, Tough days

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“Shout out to everyone transcending
a mindset, mentality, desire, belief,
emotion, habit, behavior or vibration,
that no longer serves them.”
― Lalah Delia

 

Transitions mean change that we are often leery of embracing.  Though, to continue through this lifetime, evolutionary movement is inevitable. In order to truly live our lives to the fullest, we must embrace the modifications before us, and all the meaning interwoven in the possibilities that change brings. We must challenge ourselves to seek joy, even on the unlit pathways strewn before us.

For the past fourteen years, The Husband and I have been focused on growing our family. With the onset of aging, and my reproductive abilities most likely behind us, we must transition to this new phase of settling in with the beautiful family we’ve built, and closing the door to adding any additional members to our team. The signs have been there for some time now, and we are learning to accept and move forward with great purpose, dousing the flame of “trying again,” laying all that we were striving for to rest. Always open to life, we would never say, “No” if the miracle of conception occurred once more, though, we believe that the likelihood of pregnancy happening again is slim-to-none.

Together, we move forward in what awaits us, graced to raise and cherish those lives we’ve been entrusted to care for, and joyful for the opportunity to dote on all new beings in our family circle, such as the recent birth of our great-nephew.  Change feels good, welcomed and peaceful, even. To not feel so raced against an hourglass of rushed pursuit every month and year that passes? Grateful rest. Having the sensations of feeling complete and whole as we are? Appreciative contentment. To hold and cherish a deeper respect for myself, my abilities, and the gifts I embody as a woman, wife, and mother? Self-aware confidence. To fathom that our dream was achieved and acknowledging The Husband and I conquered a great feat and won? Triumphant joy.

Some unchartered territory beckons before me that may not be paved in effervescent gold; certainly not. Although the newfound direction may surprise my wildest visions, I absolutely anticipate encountering loose gravel, hilly terrain, and perhaps a boulder or two to either push against with all my might, or climb atop—triumphantly, mightily, and with a strength found only from deep within me, built from all these years ascending mountainous trials I never expected to encounter. The scars and losses that sketch the landscape of my being are pure and organic; a heartbreaking fissure in my forever self. Despite the crosses I’ve been asked to carry, I still delight in the beauty that has emerged–more natural and miraculous than I could have ever envisioned. Life has deepened in meaning and purpose, and I will continue to seek out the joy in all that is left to live.

 

This, too, Shall Pass—One Day, it will

08 Saturday Oct 2016

Posted by in Authors, Change, Infertility, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Reading, Seasons, SIDS, Tough days

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“We do not have control over many things in life and death but we do have control over the meaning we give it.” ― Nathalie Himmelrich, Grieving Parents: Surviving Loss as a Couple

 

For over a decade now, I’ve scoured the shelves of my local library and bookstores for the types of literature that speak of women’s suffering—especially, the stories of women whom have grieved over losing a child.  In 2004, I found myself part of a community that I did not want to belong to, a reluctant joiner. Reading about how other woman had lost their babies didn’t make me more depressed about my miscarriages, no. Actually, knowing I was not alone, that support existed, and that my feelings, experiences, physical and emotional wounds, and attitude about what I was going through was quite normal—all of it became an integral part of my healing journey. Our stories, no matter how painful they may be, need to be shared.

Miscarriage and infertility has affected me in dire ways. When I lost my first child, I knew I would never be the same. Honestly, I thought I would never get over the physical, not to mention, emotional toll losing her did to me. It wrecked me so. Yet, I survived it, five times more, even.

Today, I can reflect on the journey and realize, that with each baby loss, my capacity for compassion and empathy, tolerance and patience toward others, and myself, has grown in ways that may never have occurred if I hadn’t lost so much. The woman I am today is simultaneously stronger and softer, because of the suffering I have endured.

What I have learned along the way, with each subsequent baby loss, is that you must, must, must—only when you are ready—speak of your loss, share your story, and let your heart grieve in all the zig-zag ways it will. I’m so thankful for those book authors and bloggers I discovered, and for their courage to scratch open their wounds of baby loss to help me, and others like me, grieving a miscarriage and a child lost far too soon.

Once you open yourself up to the truth of your loss, you will begin to heal. You’ll cease feeling haunted by the what if’s. What could I have done to prevent this? What should I have done differently? Will this happen again?

In sharing your story, you will find that you are not alone in the loneliest, most shockingly isolated time of your life. People will begin to open up about how miscarriage and infant loss has affected them, as well. You will discover that a friend of a friend has lost multiple children, too. That a college friend has lost a niece to SIDS. That your elderly neighbors lost their first child, and a set of twins, at six months along. Your best friend will struggle to get pregnant for the first time. She’ll go on to have a beautiful girl, and when ready to try again after a healthy pregnancy, she will struggle with secondary infertility and her own repeat miscarriages. Your college roommate, who lives 3,000 miles away from you, will text you a devastating message that she just lost her third, and she is giving up all hope of opening up her heart and womb to another chance at bringing life into the world.

You will begin to become jaded, thinking about nothing other than all of these gut-kicking losses—and how none of it makes any sense. All the suffering is overwhelming—just too much. Much too much. Though, you must find the will and the way to carry on.

This is where you allow the stories of so many other parents’ heartbreaking losses reach you, speak to you, guide, inform, and empower you to move on—although, forever changed. Prayer is a healer, too. (So is a little  self-care and more frequent indulgences, such as luxurious bubble baths, weekly massage, an afternoon movie, pilates and yoga class, and more nature hikes.)

One morning, you will wake up and find your footing and breath once again. You will gain strength, and surprise yourself with your resilience. Some of that resolve you will gather from your newfound community of loss. You will learn to reveal your pain in healthy ways, and begin to be able to offer comfort and support to others’ going through the nightmare of miscarriage, and losing a child. You will. You may not want to be the baby loss expert, but your loss has enormous purpose, and your baby’s life has tremendous meaning—especially because he or she lived such a short time.

You can be brave and find treasure in the tragedy. You can turn your loss into hope for yourself and others. You can find a glimmer of hope in the murk of despair.

You will smile again. I promise you, you will. You will be able to face a shopping trip inside a mom- and baby-filled Target, and for once pass the baby section without bursting into tears. You will, one day, be able to stop sending regrets for the baby shower invites of beloved friends and family members growing their families without trouble or tragedy. You’ll actually one day want to hold those new infants in your arms, and will be able to without grief washing over you like a waterfall of despair. You will find yourself truly happy for your friends and family, and these new lives. You will.

Don’t rush the grieving process, though. You take your time, knowing you’ll get to a place of peace and hope in your own way. One day—you will. Maybe not today, maybe not even by next October. However, one day—your day—will come. I promise you that.

What has helped you reach a level of peace and hope after losing a child? 

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The Insurmountable Grief of Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Death

02 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by in Infertility, Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Wave of Light

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“Some people say it is a shame. Others even imply that it would have been better if the baby had never been created. But the short time I had with my child is precious to me. It is painful to me, but I still wouldn’t wish it away. I prayed that God would bless us with a baby. Each child is a gift, and I am proud that we cooperated with God in the creation of a new soul for all eternity. Although not with me, my baby lives.”
― Christine O’Keeffe Lafser, An Empty Cradle, a Full Heart: Reflections for Mothers and Fathers after Miscarriage, Stillbirth, or Infant Death

 

In America during the month of October, advocacy campaigns support a list of worthy national causes, including those meant to raise awareness and support for the early detection of breast cancer, anti-bullying attempts, and domestic violence prevention. Though, a campaign in October that reaches the closest to my heart is the one that was deemed integral to supporting mothers and fathers devastated by pregnancy and baby loss.

In an effort to do my part to support those grieving the loss of a baby, as I have suffered six times before, I will be devoting my blog posts this month of October to spreading awareness and support. (Please feel free to read some of my blog posts and what I’ve shared in the past about my miscarriage experiences.) The blog posts I feel compelled to share this month will reflect on my personal story of miscarriage: how each of my baby losses have shaped, molded, and changed me; how The Husband and I have coped over the years with so many losses; how we have chosen to honor each of our angel babies; and what the grieving feels and looks like now.

My greatest hope for October is that you will join me in spreading awareness of pregnancy and baby loss, perhaps by lending your support to those suffering this insurmountable pain, and honoring all the children that gained their angels’ wings before their precious feet ever touched the ground. Thank you, gentle and kind readers.

Have you suffered a miscarriage or experienced the loss of a baby? What support do you wish you had during that time of loss and grief? Does sharing your story—through writing, creating art,  talking about the experience, or honoring your child(ren)in a special way—help at all?

Healthy Eating, Simplified

19 Monday Sep 2016

Posted by in Blessings, Change, Endometriosis & Adenomyosis, Infertility, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Simple Living, Simplicity, Striving toward Minimalism

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Nothing tastes as good as being healthy feels. ~Author unknown

Before I go on about the ways I have simplified the task of feeding my family, I want to say that it has been a long road getting here and I’m not quite sure the path to eating perfection will ever be attained, nor should it. For many, many years, we ascribed to the “beans and rice, rice and beans” mentality until we learned that those meals, albeit healthy and frugal in their own right, were not kind nor helpful to the multiple health issues I am fighting against daily (Endometriosis, Adenomyosis, hormone imbalances, infertility, repeat miscarriages, migraines, and more). A few years ago, before I became pregnant with The Toddler, I was facing some serious stuff. That’s all I’m going to say about that except to note that my long-time doctor (sadly, now retired) and I had a major life-changing discussion in his office while going over my recent test results, ultrasound scans, and everything that could and couldn’t be done about the extent and seriousness of my illnesses (think: Cancer and gene testing). Scary stuff.

As a last resort, this doctor—who was a champion for me and my health from my first appointment on, a beacon of hope in some of my darkest times of baby loss, one whom celebrated with us the birth of every child he surgically delivered, and the adoption of The Girl—urgently prescribed a type of modified-Paleo regime that strictly eliminated ALL grains and sugars from my diet for three months, and put me back on natural progesterone support. What I needed to commit to was a diet without rice or pasta (not even gluten-free), no pizza or breads, no fruits or desserts, nor sugar in my tea. You get the picture. He wanted me to check in every month and let him know how I was feeling, continue sending in my NFP charts, note any changes in all symptoms and frequency of migraines, any new or worsening conditions, anything positive or negative related to my cycle and health issues. After the three months’ trial, he said that I could begin to add one grain or sugar back  into rotation at a time to see if and what I could tolerate in those food categories.

I owed this special doctor so much for the family he helped us build, the prayers he prayed in our name, wholeheartedly trusting his medical knowledge and advice on the management of my health-related issues over the years, and appreciated his candid, yet gentle discussions with me about the truth and seriousness of the female disorders I live with every day. Although, in the past I had tried The Endo Diet, I was unsuccessful each time I tried to modify my diet to meet the requirements. It seemed overwhelming and daunting, especially during the times after another miscarriage or months on end of trying to conceive another pregnancy. However, three years ago, I was desperate.

Hitting the vortex of desperation with my doctor’s newfound research, empathy and conviction to keeping another pending surgery at bay, he put me on the path to a whole new me. Truly. This major change to my diet, which seemed simple and doable against all the odds I was facing (after all, what did I have to lose?) in turn changed my health around almost instantaneously and, in a sense, gave me my life back. Quite possibly, considerably changing my diet is the one and only reason—aside from a true miracle—that The Toddler’s life exists. For this reason alone, I am humbled and feel blessed beyond compare, and try my best to maintain this type of eating regime for optimum health so that I can be the best version of myself for those I love the most.

~

The one area of my life I refuse to scrimp on is what I serve my family to eat. In our household, we have multiple special-diets that we must adhere to due to a list of life-threatening food allergies and serious medical conditions. There was a time when I enjoyed cooking and learning new, elaborate recipes. Although I do still enjoy cooking and trying enticing recipes, health and safety is always on my mind. Over the last few years, I have discovered that simple, whole foods are the easiest, most cost-effective, and healthiest means to feeding my family.

So, what are some of my strategies for feeding a large family with all the variables I mentioned above? How do I keep the necessary tasks of cooking and preparing healthy and safe meals, and shopping within a budget possible? For one, I make it a priority to serve raw and fresh fruits and veggies at most meals and for snacks. I tend to only steam, cook, or roast vegetables at dinner time. We do serve your typical “kid-friendly” snacks (Veggie Straws, Goldfish crackers, Annie’s bunny fruit snacks, etc…) but the list of packaged foods we choose to buy is slim due to allergen restrictions and my commitment to feeding my family more whole foods and less processed ones, and find it a relief to both my healthy-eating conscience and wallet staying away from most pre-packaged snacks for daily consumption.

Over the weekend, I typically will buy the ingredients I need for cooking a pot of homemade chicken and vegetable soup, turkey and veggie chili, or Tuscan vegetable soup on Sunday or Monday for myself to eat at lunch and/or snack all week-long. This has been a lifesaver for my health-related and time-saving needs. It’s especially helpful to have this type of healthy leftover on hand for nights the kids have swimming lessons (pizza night!), or when my husband is away on business and I serve the kids a meal they prefer (think: chicken nuggets, French fries, applesauce, and green beans!).

What saves us the most time and money is eating a ton of left-overs, non-complicated foods, and simply, meal planning. An organic rotisserie chicken goes a long way and can be made into multiple meals throughout the week. The last of the chicken leftovers get thrown into the soup pot and all of the pieces combined make a delicious bone broth. Food waste is a big deal to me and one that I haven’t quite ratified 100% from my kitchen. However, I will tell you that by simplifying what is written down on my grocery list and not being too over-zealous in my meal planning, we waste much, much less than ever before.

Managing to keep my food shopping to one or two grocery stores only—the two that best serve our eating and monetary needs–also helps. (In case you are wondering, I shop primarily at Aldi and Kroger.) Texting The Husband at the end of his work day when we are out of: whole milk, eggs, bananas, etc… and asking him to please stop  on his way home helps me to stay out of the grocery store every few days, which also saves me from the temptation of over-buying and over-spending (but, it was on sale!) when we need only a few essentials to get us to the next pay period. We rarely eat out because it’s difficult to keep The Toddler in a high chair, not to mention the many allergies to consider. At this stage in our family’s life, we’d much rather spend our time and money elsewhere.

Keeping to particular food shopping and meal preparation routines enables me to simplify my life to ensure there is adequate room for what matters most: keeping my family well-fed in healthy and safe ways, and making memories by spending our precious time together doing what we enjoy.

 

Please share with me how you simplify the ways it takes to feed your family. Do you enjoy eating out together, or do you prefer to make homemade meals? What advice can you offer about simplifying meal-prep routines?

 

In Loving Memory, A Wave of Light

15 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by in Infertility, Love, Miscarriage, Motherhood, Mothers & Daughters, Mothers & Sons, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Poets and Poetry, Tough days, Wave of Light

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Surprised by Joy

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom
But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee?—Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
IN LOVING MEMORY
October 15, 2014

Wave of Light

 

October 15th Wave of Light

14 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by in Infertility, Love, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Wave of Light

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“There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless, supreme. If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would show only a woman looking down at her empty arms.”

― Charlotte Brontë

 

October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Memorial Day. At 7:00 tomorrow evening, I will partake in the “Wave of Light” for all children gone too soon. For at least an hour, my home will be aglow with candlelight to honor my own six miscarried babies and the dearly missed children of friends and family members. In annual memory of those children we never had the chance to hold and in honor of their short lives, here are the names The Husband and I gave to our six miscarried children:

Agnes Elizabeth (April, 2004)

Julian Olivia (June, 2005)

Max Kolbe (April, 2006)

Catherine Teresa (December, 2006)

John Victor (January, 2013)

Francis Cuthbert (March, 2014)

If you’d like to learn more about National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Memorial Day, here are some well-informed websites that will help you to spread awareness for SIDS and child loss, find an event in your area to participate in, and further make a difference in the lives of deceased babies and their families:

Please join me in the “Wave of Light” by lighting your own candle on October 15th at 7:00 PM (in your time zone) to honor all families grieving the loss of a baby, infant, or child.  Please spread the word, as well, by posting pictures of your flickering candles on your blogs and social media accounts, and let’s set the world aglow with awareness, support, and love.

Living Intentionally in 2014

07 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by in Blessings, Change, Forgiveness, Infertility, Miscarriage, New Year's Resolutions, Past, Peace, Perspective, Snow day!, Writing, Writing routine

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Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
~Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

I think in terms of the day’s resolutions, not the year’s.  ~Henry Moore

It’s that time of year, one resplendent with making promises to ourselves that this new year will be better than the last. It’s an awesome, positive time of year despite that the good intentions might be laced with bitter despair by looking back on all that went wrong in a previous year. In 2013, I was facing emotional and physical trials that put an abrupt end to any worthy resolution I had in mind for the year as I began with joyful anticipation of focusing on growing my family and writing my motherhood stories. Instead, I spent my days and months fighting to get my body, mind, and spirit back. It was an exhausting feat, but I survived and once again, the wounds of despair have made me a stronger, kinder, more resilient being. The writing, in fact, saved me.

Writing is therapy.

Writing is therapy.

The first week of 2014 has found me locked up indoors tending to my three children, all whom fell ill in a staggered progression that began with a quick onset of fever and chills, moved to various stomach ails, and was followed by a brutal, lingering head and chest cold. Now we are all stuck inside a little while longer due to the unsightly arctic blast growling outside. No school, no recreational activities, no heading out for us. There are blessings in being grounded together for a couple more days. Not only do the kids have some extra time to recoup, but I’ve found ample time to reflect on what I want differently out of today, tomorrow, and the days ahead. At the top of my priorities for this new year?  Cutting myself some slack and worrying less about the future. Living less in my mind and more in the present.  Lacerating my tendency toward undue anxiety and negative self-talk. Deeper, mindful breathing. Allowing myself to move slowly and deliberately as long as I’m heading forward and onward to a better self, life, and sense of purpose.

Slow down and live life more fully.

Slow down and live life more fully.

What do you have in mind for your new year? How do you want to live differently just for today?  

In Gratitude for Adoption: Giving Thanks Day Six (30 Days of Thanks)

06 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by in 30 Days of Thanks, Adoption, Blessings, Infertility, Love, Miscarriage, Motherhood, Mothers & Daughters, Parenting, Personal health, Prayers

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However motherhood comes to you, it’s a miracle. ~ Valerie Harper, Adoptive parent

About nine months after my husband and I were married, we felt ready to begin a family. Unfortunately, our journey to parenthood came with unexpected struggle, a litany of infertility issues and repeat miscarriages. (We lost our first four children in that time: Agnes Elizabeth, April 2004; Julian Olivia, June 2005; Max Kolbe, April 2006; and Catherine Teresa, December 2006.) During these years of trying to conceive again and again in hopes of finally carrying a child to term, I went through the ringer to become a mother.

During those trying years, my arms became permanently black and blue with bruises from the countless multiple blood draws I endured to check hormone levels and to rule out other serious health issues. I became an NFP charting expert and obsessed with the healthiest, most natural ways to eat, take care of my body, and become pregnant.  I had laparoscopic surgery and was diagnosed with Stage III Endometriosis. Soon thereafter, I started a regime of Clomid and trigger shots of hCG to boost my body’s ability to ovulate and produce the hormones it was lacking to sustain a pregnancy. During those cycles I swallowed ovulation-inducing medicines and became a pro at hormone injections, I gained weight and felt ill most of the time. Down went the pills and painful injections were endured–graciously, in fact–all for the sake of becoming a mother.

Because I reached the maximum dosage without a successful pregnancy, I had to stop the Clomid and trigger shots of hCG. Shortly thereafter is when I found a disturbingly large lump on my right breast. After seeing my doctor, I was sent to the women’s clinic for a full work-up of tests and procedures which ultimately resulted in a biopsy of the lump. Not only was I dealing with infertility and losing babies, I now had my first breast cancer scare. (Thankfully it was only a cyst, but even the surgeon who operated on me was seriously concerned. In the years since, I have found two more lumps.)

To compound the pain and the struggle we were experiencing for the sake of parenthood, my immediate and extended family were suffering greatly, too. In the span of three years, we lost my father to his sixteen-month long battle with small-cell lung cancer, and said our good-byes to two uncles, and my maternal grandparents, as well. It was a somber time.

Through it all, The Husband and I kept hoping and praying for children. We certainly discussed adoption, but had not explored it until one fateful September day when the answer to our prayers came in the form of an evening phone call. A familiar voice spoke to us on the other line. A child needed a loving home and were we open to adoption? Miracle of all miracles, our answer was an exuberant, “Yes!” Nine months from that incredible phone call, we would be fostering to adopt The Girl. We were full of gratitude and joy to be given this chance, and to open our hearts and home to this child in need.

The first Thanksgiving with The Girl in our home was a memorable one for obvious reasons. However, our joy increased a few days later when I discovered that I was, miraculously, pregnant again! A little over nine months later, we welcomed home The Boy. The Girl had a sibling! We had a son! Eight months after his birth, The Girl’s adoption was finalized. We felt blessed beyond compare to have witnessed two miracles in our lifetime, and that we were finally parents as we’d always hoped to be.

I touted over social media today that I was grateful for adopting my oldest child. She has stretched my heart and spirit by her love and many challenges. It’s not always “rainbows and butterflies” around here, but the trying times are the ones that increase our hearts, minds, and spirits tenfold. Adoption is a blessing despite the many challenges it brings. I would not have it any other way.

Honestly, I would go through the struggle over and over again—for her, for us—to start my family by fostering then finally adopting this amazingly complex, beautiful and gifted person–this daughter of mine–who herself makes me a better mom and better person, truly. If you ever had an inkling to foster or adopt, I urge you to look into welcoming a child into your home. Adoption can change lives for the better.