God grew my heart for adoption. But, years later, when my dream of having babies was threatened, my heart just wasn’t ready.

We joined the elite club of couples with a new part-time job of visiting a reproductive endocrinologist–which is just fancy words to class up that we were seeing a fertility specialist…a lot. And so began the hardest season of my life. I was teaching preschool and going to school for my Master’s degree–but babymaking became my job. Along with so many others, I somehow found myself spending my time in crowded waiting rooms full of women much like me who all felt very much alone as we flipped through magazines avoiding eye contact and waited for a nurse to call our first names only to protect our identity. With medications and modern technology and God’s sovereignty somehow over it all, we experienced the joy of becoming pregnant…twice…and experienced the grief of loss…twice. I was broken when we lost our first child. And, the hope that was restored when we conceived again made me fall even harder when we lost our second child.

Some moments even after years remain clear in your memory–so clear you can nearly tangibly feel them again. We had just lost our second baby. I was sitting with my husband as he so patiently tried to comfort me. And, it hit me. “I feel like I’ve been trying so hard to make my calling to be a mother that I’ve missed whatever it is God has called me to.” And, my eyes were opened. And, my heart was changed.

My purpose during that time was to become a mom—it drove me, was nearly all I thought about, broke my heart on a regular basis when I was still not a mom. But, at that moment, I had peace. I still wanted to be a mom, longed to be a mom…but I knew I wanted to do what God had called me to do first and foremost, day to day, right where I was, right where He had put me.

The month after that, while still taking medication but preparing for starting a new round of treatments the next month, we became pregnant with Evan, and the nearly impossible was miraculously made possible.

There we were, new parents, navigating our new roles together and what it meant to parent, and God smiled. We suddenly found ourselves with a 22 month old son and a newborn baby girl we named Ashlyn Kate. So there, science.

When Ashlyn was about 9 months old, Mark went solo to a wedding for a friend since leaving my little one for a long time just didn’t work. He came home late and laid beside me in bed telling me about the wedding—you know, answering all the questions a wife asks about dresses, the cake, the menu, and all the excitement. He mentioned that he sat at a table with a couple who had just adopted a little boy from Russia. As far as they knew, they wouldn’t have trouble conceiving. But, they wanted to adopt as well as have kids biologically. And, they decided to adopt first.

“I want to do that,” I announced. “Umm…what?” “I want to do that. Let’s adopt a little boy from Russia. Evan needs a brother. I’ve always had a heart for adoption. Come on, let’s do it.” I think I may have heard some chuckles and a few “you’re crazy”s before we fell asleep.

That night, I had a dream that I was right where I was in bed and a little girl approached the bedside and called me mommy. She was Asian. And, her name was Lydia. I didn’t speak her name; but, I somehow knew what it was. The next morning was just a normal morning, waking early to babies who needed to eat, and I said to Mark, “I had such a funny dream. I dreamt we had an Asian daughter named Lydia. But, I want a boy from Russia.”

I started researching and gathering info—for our Russian son, of course. I was into it. Mark still thought I was crazy. Maybe I was a little.

A few months later, Mark got a surprise call at work from me…in shock. We were pregnant. And, I was dumbfounded. And, I let go of the dream of adopting. Not long later, we lost our third baby. And, soon after that, now intentionally trying to have another, we lost our fourth baby. When we got pregnant again, after blood counts and ultrasounds every other day, we heard the news we had heard four times before; we were losing this baby too. We both cried. We went out to lunch together and talked through the pain and started the process to accept the loss of yet another child.

Why were we doing this? 

We’ve talked about adoption. Mark was open to adoption. Let’s stop trying to do this thing again and move forward with adopting. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. There was hope in our loss. And, we were ready to go to Russia for our boy. We came home with red eyes but lighter hearts.

Then, the doctor called us. More tests came back that weren’t so clear. Come back in a few days for a recheck. 7 months later, Drew was born.