This story has been shared, but with Rosie’s birthday coming up this week, it is a story worth remembering and I hope this can help speak to others going through infertility issues, or issues with their faith, as well.

Taylor and I were living in Harrisonburg, VA at the time. We lived in 3 places over 4 years- so I cannot recall if we were living in the basement apartment, in the townhouse, or the small house that was built in 1923.

Regardless, we had been married a few years and decided that it was time to have a child. Except it didn’t work that easily. In sex-ed in middle school, they used some pretty intense scare tactics to leave me with the impression that if I so much as thought about sex, a girl would get pregnant.

But that didnt happen with us. As months passed, things got worse. This beautiful, amazing person I longed to be married with- we were now at odds with each other. We fought. Things were tense.

I prayed. I prayed hard during this time. I can remember one time going out- just getting out of the house to escape for a minute, and I tool the dog with me to the nearest national park, about 40 minutes away. It was raining a little, which was preferred- that way I can walk and pray aloud, without seeming too crazy. So I took full advantage of that. After months of trying, and failing, to conceive, I was angry. So I yelled. I questioned God. Where was He? Did He care? Why wasn’t this coming together, and why was He silent? Often, I can hear a word from the Lord- or a friend can share some encouragement, or Taylor has some wisdom to share. But this time was different- there was radio silence, and just a blackness of lonliness.

“Psalm 37:4”.

That’s it. After months of silence, those were the words I heard, while out on that rainy day. Why that verse? I don’t even know that verse, why is that the one that breaks this silence? I rushed home to see what that verse said.

Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Psalm 37:4

That verse doesnt mean anything in this context. How is that supposed to apply to this very painful situation? I was disappointed- and felt I deserved better than that.

But it was the Lord that told me this (words I use VERY sparingly). So, I was going to do it- and focus my JOY as it comes from the Lord. To me, this meant really reading the Bible, some commentaries, and diving into prayer. This meant being vulnerable. This meant going out of my comfort zone. To this point, “Joy” never really came from the Lord in my life. What did that even look like? What did that mean?

During this time, we had some friends from the church that we went to. They also had some fertility issues that they worked through. Since I didn’t contact them to see if I could use their names, let’s call them Ashley and Jason. They shared their diet tricks to help, which was simply a paleo diet. Since we didn’t have the money to do what the doctor recommended, which was IVF, this was our only option.

What was actually wrong?

That is a good question. It is hard to know what this kind of pain is like for other couples, but for us, it seemed like a saving grace that the issues were on both sides. I won’t go into many details (also I don’t remember too many details), but there were hormone issues for Taylor and for me.

There were steps we could take that were less invasive, and less expensive, than IVF, so we went that route as well. Again, I won’t share details, but if you are curious, you can google it, and you will likely find some details and put 2 and 2 together.

What about prayer?

Christmas came and went. It was painful. It seemed daily we were getting new-baby announcements in the mail. And worse, people asking Taylor to plan baby showers. Over, and over, and over again. “What about prayer?” was the question I asked. Where was the Lord, when Taylor was experiencing such emotional pain, that I couldn’t fix? Sure, we were happy for each of our friends becoming parents for the first time, but the pain is sharp.

The church that we attended at the time was called Grace Covenant Church. Remember above where I mentioned “getting out of my comfort zone”? This church did a great job of that- it pushed me out of my comfort zone, and kept drawing me back for more. It was hard to explain, but the presence of the Lord was there, and Taylor and I loved calling that place home during that period of our lives.

We prayed, but we didn’t try healing prayer. And in February, our church did a healing prayer night. Taylor asked if I wanted to go, and I quickly said no. No way. Absolutely not. I was not broken, and that was weird. It was out of my comfort zone. Looking back, I think it was just hard to admit to others, and myself, that I did have some broken parts.

So we ended up going. The sanctuary was not brightly lit that evening. There were a few people up at the front of the aisles, and people were lined up to be prayed for. There were a LOT of people lined up for prayer, and chances are, they needed prayer more than I did. Taylor and I took a seat. God doesn’t stay silent forever.

We prayed. I prayed. I don’t know what was going on with Taylor at the time. But I was praying, and crying. And I was still a bit angry, and sad the the God I spent time with in the morning, was so absent and silent.

“God, where are you? Why can’t we have this child we so desperately long for?”

This time, there was an answer. This time, the silence was broken. This time, with head bowed in prayer, the sanctuary disappeared, and clear as day, there was a picture of a child- a newborn, wrapped in a blanket, and being held. Then, an image of a toddler- playing, smiling, parents so close. Then, a teenager.

Then, a voice:

“What is it that you want?” The words were clear- so much that it seemed startling Taylor couldn’t hear them. The tears were flowing at this point.

“I want a child Lord. Please, please, we want this baby.” Anger melted, and became nothing.

“If I give you a child, will you raise it to follow me?” This was more than a question, this was a charge: a command to follow. Parents take a lot of responsibilities when raising a child, and this is not something I wanted to take on lightly.

“Yes Lord”. Yes. Yes, we will raise this child- the one that is so longed for- we will raise this child to know the Lord.

“You will have a child in November.” And the words- everything to my bones, melted. The pain- the months and months, years and years of silence. My life? My plans? My strengths? They are nothing. I am pathetic, without this peace, without this presence, without this moment.

Tears were flowing. I was trying, and failing, at being discrete in these moments. People were still lining up for prayer. We were still sitting in the 5th row of chairs. How much time passed? I had no idea. What just happened? What happens next?

“Tay, we can go now, we have been healed.” Those seemed like the right words to say.

“What do you mean? We haven’t even been through the line yet?” She saw my tears.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

Confused, we drove through the darkness, the 10 minute drive home. Using the words “God told me” sets a dangerous precedent. Those words carry weight, and cannot be used lightly. And we hadn’t been married for too long at that point. Should I really use those words? Did God really say something.

Yes. And Yes.

“Taylor, we will have a baby by November.” She was elated, and rightfully nervous. I explained everything else, and we both cried.

The story didn’t quite end there. Remember the serious nature of those words? A few weeks later, we found out again that she wasn’t pregnant. Again, there was doubt and confusion. Did I lie to her? No, I couldn’t have made that up.

The following month, at the checkup with her doctor, everything checked out. The due date? Nov. 27th.

Because we were still on such a strict paleo diet (no carbs, dairy, or sugar), this was how my bride shared the big news:

I don’t deserve her 🙂