One of the saddest things, when looking back on my journey through infertility, is how I allowed my experience to rob me of my faith. As the years past and our journey to parenthood took a greater and greater toll on me, physically, emotionally & spiritually, I gradually started to loose faith. Faith myself. Faith in my body. But worst of all was loosing faith and no longer believing in miracles. I had a saying, which I became known for amongst my IF friends – I believe in miracles, they just don’t happen to me!
Faith, for me, is believing that in spite of all the bad that was happening, in spite of how many times I got knocked down, in spite of the poor odds that faced us each time I miscarried ( From miscarriage 1 – 3 a woman’s chance of having another miscarriage is reduced by over 50% with each subsequent pregnancy, from miscarriage 3 & above her chances of successfully carrying a pregnancy start to reduce by the same percentage) just dragged me deeper and deeper into the belief that I wasn’t going to get a miracle. That in the face of the odds we faced, there was little to no hope for us.
Obviously, we must have had some tiny flicker of hope somewhere deep inside to keep going, to keep dusting ourselves off and trying again. Or perhaps it was more a matter of pig-headed determination to not give up, no matter the odds.
It makes me a little sad to look back and see how my faith was shaken. After all, isn’t faith believing in something, in spite of how bad the odds are?
And with the way she came into our lives – 3 weeks from starting the adoption assessments to her actual birth and literally in a very short period of time my faith was restored. But my faith came back as something different, something greater than what it had been before. Instead of just having faith, I now have blind faith. I have learned that in spite of the odds, no matter how truly impossible an obstacle may seem to overcome, with blind faith, it can and it will be over come.
Hence our decision to adopt a second time. We have been told by our SW’s that it is harder to get selected the second time. That the process from application to selection will be longer and that it may even not happen. And yet, I refuse to be beaten by those odds, I refuse to step down and give up. I’m standing on blind faith that there will be another child. That God will once again, seemingly effortlessly, flick aside the giant obstacle in front of it and he will once again bless us with another miracle.
That’s the thing about having such blind faith. I’ve also stopped believing that miracles are limited. I don’t believe that because He gave us this incredible miracle once, that He won’t grant us another one.
Ava’s arrival in our lives has taught me about blind faith, about miracles, about how God wants to bless us and He wants to give us so much more than even we imagined.
I believe in miracles. And most importantly, I believe that miracles are not limited to a select few or that the number of miracles one can receive are limited.
I live daily, 6 months in to our second wait, reminding myself of Luke 11:9
So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.
And so as my miracle welcomes another miracle, I standing in faith, I am believing in another miracle, I am asking with an expectant heart and I am knocking and waiting for that door to be opened. But most of all, I have faith that I shall receive, that the door will be opened.