If you had told me three and a half years ago, on the day I married my high school sweetheart, that we would one day find ourselves in the deep valley of infertility, carrying grief for three babies in heaven, and navigating the intense mix of joy and heartbreak while stepping into Foster Care—I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Our journey has been marked by both the breathtaking highs of hope and the crushing lows of loss. Yet through every twist and turn, God’s faithfulness and divine plan have been evident, guiding us step by step in what I now call Our Miracle in Motion. Sharing our story, my hope is that it brings you encouragement, and if you are walking a similar road, that you know you are far from alone.
Our story, in truth, begins long before our wedding day, back in the midst of my teenage years. After enduring years of frustrating and discouraging health issues, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS)—a serious hormonal, metabolic, and reproductive disorder with no known cure. I was told I would likely struggle with it for the rest of my life, and that having children naturally could be incredibly difficult without fertility treatments. At 14, this was a bitter and overwhelming pill to swallow. Even harder was accepting that my lifelong dream—to become a mother—might not come easily. As a little girl, I had always been drawn to caring for others, pushing my baby dolls in strollers and imagining my younger cousins and siblings as my “babies.”
When the time came to tell Austin, my high school boyfriend and now husband, I worried he might be scared off. But honesty mattered more. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have children without fertility treatments, but I think it’s important for you to know now…” I said one night over the phone. His response? “Okay.” Just that simple word. Okay. My heart swelled with relief, amazement, and love. He accepted me, diagnosis and all, without hesitation. That moment sealed for me that he was the man God had chosen.
We got engaged on my 18th birthday, July 2017, on the breathtaking Sand Beach in Acadia National Park. In that moment, it felt undeniable: we were meant to be together, and together we could do more than we ever could apart. Our wedding was set for October 14, 2017. Unlike many couples, we were aware of the potential struggles infertility could bring well before our marriage. And with that awareness, we decided to start trying for a family immediately, stepping into the journey with open hearts and hope.
At first, I clung to hope fiercely. Though my health issues were real and ongoing, I told myself that pregnancy might “just happen,” that infertility wouldn’t be part of our story. After all, even medically healthy couples often take months to conceive. But as time passed, month after month of negative pregnancy tests began to weigh heavily. Our hope began to meet the harsh reality of infertility.
Then, in late July 2018, a miracle occurred. Against all odds and everything we knew about PCOS, we were pregnant—naturally, without any fertility treatments. The joy, disbelief, and awe we felt in that moment were indescribable. But our joy was short-lived. Just days later, we experienced an early miscarriage, losing our baby much too soon. We grieved quietly, struggling to reconcile hope with heartbreak.
We didn’t imagine we’d become part of the “one in four” statistic of couples experiencing miscarriage, let alone the “one in eight” dealing with infertility. As our first anniversary passed, we clung to a glimmer of hope, realizing that pregnancy was possible for us. Though grief was heavy, it strengthened our determination to fight for our dream of parenthood.
Early 2019 brought another calling—this time a mission trip to Haiti, a country close to our hearts. After much prayer, we decided that if God wanted us to conceive before the trip, it would happen—but it didn’t. We poured our energy into fundraising, and within six weeks, we were fully funded, witnessing yet another miracle.
But life had more heartbreak in store. Months later, we discovered I was pregnant again—joyful, hopeful, but uncertain. Then, as if repeating the past, we miscarried. Two babies now in heaven, almost exactly a year apart. The grief was immense. With our mission trip looming, we buried our sorrow, focusing on the work ahead, still clinging to the hope that a rainbow would follow our storm.
We returned from Haiti, bought our first home, and tried to navigate life amidst unresolved grief. Yet another miracle awaited. Weeks before Thanksgiving 2019, an old friend reached out, asking if we would adopt her baby, due in summer 2020. Our hearts overflowed with hope and purpose. Adoption had never been on our radar, but we felt a peace that this was God’s plan. We began fundraising and excitedly shared the news with family on Thanksgiving, envisioning tiny baby shoes and the joy of our continued journey.
Then, heartbreak struck again. Five days before Christmas, our birth mom suffered a miscarriage. Another child lost. The grief felt relentless, dark, and unfair. Watching others grow their families while we faced loss after loss was emotionally overwhelming, even as we trusted God’s plan.
2020 was chaos—pandemic, financial uncertainty, and grief—but amidst it all, God quietly prepared our next miracle. He called me to finish our nursery, even when hope seemed distant. We completed the “Faith Nursery,” not yet knowing why, but trusting His timing.
By August, clarity came. During a small group discussion on human trafficking, we learned that 60–80% of trafficked children had spent time in the Foster Care system. I felt God’s nudge—we have to do something. Texting Austin in the car, I blurted, “I think we need to pursue Foster Care.” His answer? Of course.
Miraculously, on August 28th, Romans 8:28—the verse that had been our anchor—appeared as the verse of the day. 08/28. It was as if God’s timing had aligned perfectly. We submitted our Foster Care application in early September. Meanwhile, fundraising for Haiti stalled, and we withdrew from the trip. The next day, our social worker called. God had closed one door and opened another.
We dove into the process with faith and diligence—paperwork, fingerprinting, home inspections, and mandatory training. Miracles continued, from seemingly impossible deadlines to encouragement at every step. By January, our home study was complete, training underway, and approval within reach. We were humbled and grateful to soon provide a safe, loving home for children in need.
Looking back, these three and a half years have been nothing like we imagined. Infertility, miscarriage, heartbreak, and unexpected paths have marked our journey—but walking in faith has led us to exactly where God wants us. Now, we wait in hope for a miracle pregnancy, dreaming of our triple rainbow baby, while preparing our hearts and home for Foster Care. God is writing a story more beautiful than we could ever imagine, and for that, we are endlessly grateful.
Our hope in sharing this is simple: there is purpose in pain, breakthrough in unexpected places, and you are never alone. Hold on to hope, because miracles truly are in motion.
