Teenage girls piled together on bunk beds discussing the memorable weekend we had just shared, learning about God’s grace, one started singing and then another. During a quiet moment, one girl leaned in close and said, “You would make such a great mom.” Puzzled, I looked at her and just kind of smiled, as she repeated her sentiment.

Reluctantly, I asked, “Why?”

“Well, you have the most beautiful voice and give the best hugs…” she replied.

As a sixteen year old girl, I couldn’t help picturing, one day holding my little one close, singing a lullaby. Perhaps the same sweet song of Jesus’ amazing grace we were singing that very evening.

Years later, after marrying my high school sweetheart, although our plans for the future included a family, we were content to complete things in the correct order. I am a Type A, perfectionist to the core, carefully planning every detail of life. My plans included finishing college, getting married, buying a home and starting a family, in that order. In fact, that is exactly how I pridefully informed God it was going to happen.

Needless to say, my plans haven’t come anywhere close to the abundant blessings HE had in store.

My husband and I married in May of 2003 and moved to Lynchburg, VA, while he attended seminary at Liberty University. During our time, I worked for the Central Virginia Area Agency on Aging, a rewarding experience, details of which I will save for another post. Those first two years away from home and family were incredible as we learned to navigate what it meant to solely depend upon God and one another.

Like most young couples, we were peppered with questions about starting a family and would politely smile and say “now isn’t the time,” or something along those lines. However, in February of 2005 we learned we were expecting for the first time and although this didn’t quite “fit” into our plan, we were anxiously excited. We didn’t share our news with family, knowing we were hundreds of miles away and wanted to be certain everything was all right. Sitting in the one-stall ladies room in the basement at work, I hesitantly made our first appointment with a local doctor for a few weeks later.

After all these years, I still remember every detail of that dreadful day. Ryan drove me to work and I didn’t feel right; the excruciating pain, the blood, passing out and having the EMT hovering over me as I lay sprawled out under my desk…

Our baby was gone.

Processing the grief became difficult because how do you talk about something you weren’t ready to share with everyone? I cried myself to sleep every night for weeks, until my heart became numb.

Following graduation in May of that year, Ryan accepted a ministry position at a church in WV. This news delighted me because I desperately missed my family and had lost all passion for my job. My prayer upon returning home was that God would allow us to start a family quickly so I could fulfill my new secret dream of becoming a mother.

I fervently began praying Psalm 37:4-5, believing that if I just followed closely to the Lord, He would give me exactly what I wanted.

Delight yourself in the Lord,  and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act. (Psalms 37:4-5, ESV)

Time passed, infertility continued, two more miscarriages followed, yet we spoke of it to no one. We rarely talked about it to one another. I naively believed by letting others in I was weak. I felt ashamed and embarrassed, convinced it was somehow my fault. At the time, I truly thought I was leaving it in God’s hands, if it was His will, He would act.

But as the months became years, my heart grew more resentful and bitter toward friends and family sharing in the happiness of new life. Social media posts detailing pregnancies left me feeling disconnected from others my age, because after all, this is what was “supposed” to happen next for us.

The resentment turned to anger toward God and I began questioning… “Lord, what about me?” “Do you not think I will make a good mother?”

In the Fall of 2010, after months of debilitating physical pain, I finally conceded to being hospitalized, where we were informed it was very unlikely that I would ever carry a child to full-term. We were told that the size and location of tumors growing in my uterus were likely to return if removed and we had a decision to make. We were devastated as this medical professional had just confirmed what in the back of my mind, I had always wondered. We took several months to pray about our plan, but came to peace with the decision to move forward with surgery.

Being physically and emotionally prepared to handle an event of this magnitude are two different things. Once news of my surgery became public we were forced to live this very private chapter, in front of prying eyes without the most sensitive lenses. From hurtful comments regarding adoption, to our decision to keep the previous years private; painfully navigating every stage of grief. We continually deal with the loss during milestone anniversaries or each passing Mother and Father’s Day, knowing we will never experience parenthood the way we had “planned.”

In the summer of 2015, four years following my initial surgery, the bitter fog of our situation began to fade, I started re-reading Psalms 37:4-5, and realized that I was interpreting it entirely wrong. I was so busy telling God how things were supposed to be in my life that I lost sight of delighting myself in Him.

All those years, my focus had been on what the world expects; a spouse, a home, 2.5 kids and a dog (or cat in our case.)

I began seeking the Lord, asking Him how he wanted to use all that we had endured to bring Him glory, immediately, my focus started to shift. My mind went from grief to blessing, how we could use our experience to impact others. The Lord was quick to show me the unique relationships he had established during our years of struggle which now had tremendous potential for influence and growth.

While searching Facebook groups, I came across the Flag Project originating in Australia; which encouraged grieving parents to honor the lives of children that had passed by creating and displaying flags on what they entitled, the “Day of Hope.” With my husband’s blessing, I decided it was time to share our story. Being a creative type, I wanted to do it justice, so I broke out the glue gun, craft paper and fabric. I asked the Lord to give me just the right words to say on behalf of the lives we had created in our love. Putting together footage from images of favorite spots around our home and melodies I’d written on an out of tune piano; I desperately wanted to honor our children.

I know that while the Lord has chosen to keep us here on earth, I now have a message of HOPE to share with other grieving families. Their short lives mattered and have changed the very character and essence of who I am as a believer in Christ. My faith was challenged during those trials and I’ve come through them changed for the better.

As a believer, when you delight yourself in the Lord, your desires become what He has planned for you. Which sometimes is completely out of line with what you initially planned; so He can receive the glory. Because let’s face it, that’s why YOU were created!

So, if a child never calls me “Mommy,” this side of eternity, I can freely lay aside those feelings of shame and embarrassment. It doesn’t mean I am a failure or any less of a woman. It simply means, God’s plan, His PERFECT plan, is far greater than anything my heart could have imagined. Therefore, I will continue pressing forward by impacting the lives of the people He has placed in my path and ultimately bring HIM the glory!