“It was April Fool’s Day, and I woke up crying. There was nothing funny about today, for me. I was 34 years old. For the past eight months my husband and I had been trying to have a baby through the Center for Reproductive Medicine in Minneapolis. Yes, we had to resort to medical help because my husband had a vasectomy after cryogenically freezing a sperm sample. After going though six failed IUI cycles, I was an emotional basket case. We had just recently been told that our best chance of having a child was through egg adoption. Basically, what I heard was, ‘Your eggs suck, and your body is broken.’ No woman should know every single daily occurrence in her body. It literally makes you crazy, and realize, at the same time, what a miracle human life is. After loads of injections, ultrasounds, appointments, and prayers, nothing was working.
I prayed constantly for God to bless us with a baby, and I could not understand why He was so blatantly ignoring me. I said this in my head while I saw myself stomping my foot, arms crossed, with a big pout on my face. Regardless of realizing how selfish it sounded, I continued to cry. I truly felt that God had forsaken me. He had brought me through enough in my life, maybe He was just sick of coming to my rescue time and time again. He had other, more noble people to help.
We brought the kids to Florida to visit my husband’s father at his Fort Myer’s home a week earlier. Also, I think my husband was trying to give me a change of scenery. His father was an acquired taste, as a very opinionated old man. He never seemed to be listening when he engaged in a conversation, but instead talking over you with his continual badgering, justifying why everything he thought was correct and why whatever you said was wrong. Unfortunately, I was sensitive to the disrespect for the elderly in our younger generations, but this man did not help the stereotype. He was very hard to communicate with because of his nature.
The kids were respectful and loved him, and he had yet to offer his opinions on their lives, so it was a good visit for them.
I wiped my tears and got up and made breakfast for the family. After breakfast I sat down at the outdoor picnic table with my husband and his father, and I watched the kids play in the pool while surfing the internet and the news online. They both read the paper and we sipped our coffees.
It seemed that everywhere I looked people were making ‘baby announcements’. All social media was filled with it, and although I tried to be happy for others, I admit to feeling so selfishly upset. Why did God put these constant reminders of ‘failure’ in my face? Of course, I blamed it on God, and I am ashamed to say how frustrated I was. I felt that I was doing everything possible. We only had two shots left at the Center for Reproductive Medicine and during our latest appointment with our doctor, he told us to stop trying with IUI and instead use these last two shots for In Vetro Fertilization, but he also thought egg adoption for the two remaining samples was a far better choice. Again, it was me, not my husband. It was my body, and my failure. After the happy decision to have a baby, it all just seemed so complicated and fragile now. The joy of having a baby, was now just a dream.
I looked up from my reading and watched our three kids jump in the pool together. They were holding hands and laughing and then splashing each other. They were now truly brothers and sister, and it was incredible how our family meshed so well. Never once did they think of themselves as ‘step-siblings’. They were siblings. God gave me this beautiful family. I felt peace at that moment, sipping my coffee, and sitting in the gratitude of what I had, instead of the pain of what I thought I wanted.
My husband’s father looked up from his paper, and said to my husband in the most matter of fact way, ‘Your cousin is losing his rights to his child and looking for someone in the family to adopt her’, and just like that, he went back to reading his paper. We both looked at each other, and he didn’t even have to asked me, before he said, ‘Yes, us’.
We didn’t know her age, her name or her medical challenges. Everything my husband’s father told us about her was wrong, but we didn’t care, we knew God answered our prayer for a child.
Over the remainder of our trip to Florida we found out more details about the little girl. Her name was, Amelia and she was in foster care. She was only 16 months old.
Our journey of adoption and foster care began, and Amelia moved into our home only a month and a half after learning about her on April Fool’s Day. God, apparently, has a sense of humor.
In the moments of heartbreak, I can’t believe I doubted God. He had delivered blessings in His own time, and I would never have imagined the joy this little girl brought to our family. I also had always known I would adopt, but I didn’t exactly know how or when. It just seemed like one of those things I felt deep in my heart and waited for God to present the opportunity.
It was incredible how Violet, and Amelia became instant best friends. Strangers would ask if they were twins, and maybe that was partially my fault, because I liked to dress them alike. They didn’t seem to mind, and both loved dresses and bows, and anything and everything girly. The boys also doted on Amelia, just as they had with Violet, but now she was the baby, and they both adored her.
My life has been filled with moments of doubt. I wished that I could be more patient for His blessings.
‘Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you: He rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait on Him’- Isaiah 30:18
Our little April Fool’s joke was soon to be our daughter. Her adoption date was scheduled and soon we would be a family of six!”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Jessie Tieva, 36, of Plymouth, Minnesota. Follow her on Instagram here. Do you have a similar experience? Submit your own story here, and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories.
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