“ Blessings in Disguise: Discovering Motherhood Beyond Biology”
As we walked to the car, silence enveloped us like a heavy blanket. My husband Samuel opened my door, and I slid into the seat, motionless, my gaze fixed on the windows of the fertility clinic I had frequented for years. It was a place filled with hope and heartbreak, and today, it was a reminder of our third round of IVF— the round that wasn’ t supposed to end like this.
By: Rev. Donna Hayes
As Samuel settled into the driver’ s seat and turned the key in the ignition, the dam broke within me. I began to yell, kicking the car and flailing my arms, shouting,“ WHY GOD, WHY!” The words echoed in the stillness of the parking lot, a desperate cry born from our recent news:“ Go home, and we’ ll schedule you to come back, but as of now, the heartbeat is not strong enough, and it looks as if the pregnancy isn’ t viable.”
At that moment, I felt the weight of my dreams crashing down. When I met Samuel, I was closing the chapter of my thirties, and my biological clock was ticking louder with each passing day. We had started trying to conceive almost immediately after our wedding. After years of heartache, we turned to the clinic for help. IVF wasn’ t my first choice, but after countless disappointments, I felt I had nothing left to lose.
We agreed to two rounds, and after each letdown, the doctors insisted that if I removed the fibroids that were growing, they were confident that pregnancy was inevitable. After all the appointments, daily injections, and emotional turmoil, what was one more attempt? So, we agreed to a third round. This time, I had conquered my fear of needles, and as I sat through the blood draws and ultrasounds, I let my mind wander to visions of what could be.
I envisioned a nursery filled with blues and browns adorned with gold accents. We had already chosen a name— Joshua— after the biblical figure whose name means“ God is Deliverance.” I remember coming home that dreadful day from the clinic. Samuel gently sat me in the Lazy Boy chair and kissed my forehead. I could almost hear my baby calling out to me,“ Mommy.” I asked if he was with Jesus, and he replied with an enthusiastic yes, saying it was fun there. Through my tear-filled eyes, I whispered to him to listen to Jesus, assuring him that Mommy and Daddy would eventually be okay.
Over the years, I formed deep bonds with the nurses and doctors, who celebrated every step of our journey. Their support was more than professional; it was a testament to the community we had built together, one that shared my joy and sorrow. However, as the days turned into weeks, I became engulfed in sadness, retreating to our bedroom and feeling isolated in my grief.
One day, Samuel invited me to join him at the kitchen table. He sat there with his daughters, KaiLoni and Arianna, and I knew they longed for a maternal presence after losing their mother. Samuel spoke with profound clarity at that moment, revealing that while I yearned to hear someone call me“ Mommy,” I had blessings right before me.
It was as if God broke the shackles of my sorrow in that moment. My daughters called me“ Mom” for the first time, and I felt a wave of healing wash over me. We were living in plain sight, embarking on a new chapter together. That day, God delivered, teaching me that motherhood doesn’ t always come through biological means. Often, it can manifest as a blessing in disguise.
I learned to open my eyes to how God worked for our good, reminding me that His blessings can come in forms we least expect. This experience was necessary to cultivate the beautiful relationship I now share with my children, who are young adults. Our journey was not what I envisioned, yet it became a path filled with love, resilience, and the undeniable bond of family.
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