I guess our story really began in February of 2014. My now-husband, Tim, proposed, and just four months later, on June 14, we were married. I was eager to start a family right away, but Tim gently asked if we could give our marriage a year before having children. I agreed, as long as he would compromise by letting me get a dog. That October, our Stella girl was born, arriving just in time to join our family for the holidays. Many might think having Stella would satisfy my maternal instinct, but loving her only deepened my desire to become a mom. By January, we both felt ready, and so began what would become the journey of a lifetime.
Before trying to conceive, I scheduled a thorough health check to prepare my body for pregnancy. My doctor advised patience and suggested we give it a full year—and we did. When a year passed with no success, we remained hopeful, young, and healthy. Just to be sure, we went to WVU Medicine for fertility testing. Both of us had routine checkups, and every doctor assured us, “You’re fine! You’ll be pregnant in no time.” But another year went by, and still, no baby. By the two-year mark, discouragement began creeping in. Nothing seemed wrong, so we kept trying on our own. Year three turned to four, and I finally reached my breaking point.
Reluctantly, I admitted, “We can’t do this alone.” Tim and I decided it was time to move forward with treatment and attempt our first IUI. Weeks of blood draws, ultrasounds, cycle checks, and hours in the car culminated in the moment we had been praying for. In August of 2018, I lay on a doctor’s office bed, Tim’s forehead pressed to mine, both of us pleading with God for our baby. Two weeks later, while painting my laundry room, that familiar pang of disappointment hit. I begged, reasoned, and pleaded, clinging to hope. But I had to accept it. That night, Tim held me on the bathroom floor as I completely broke down.
As I tried to process my own heartbreak, my world began to unravel in unexpected ways. Just a week later, my sister-in-law, who hadn’t been trying, discovered she was pregnant. It may make me sound awful, but I was crushed. I collapsed on the grass at my mother’s house, screaming at God, “Why her? Why not me? I’ve been begging for this!” Emotions swirled—anger, jealousy, despair—and eventually numbness. Over the next few months, three more close friends and family members announced pregnancies. I walked through those months in a fog, working tirelessly and shopping to numb the pain. My 45-minute daily commute gave me ample time to pray, to desperately seek hope.
One day, mid-prayer, the word “January” flashed before me. It may sound strange, but I believed it was God speaking. That word became my lifeline through the holiday season. I truly believed I would become pregnant in January, and I clung to that hope like a lifeboat in stormy seas. But January 2019 came with its own trials—I was abruptly forced out of my workplace due to an unfortunate “misunderstanding.” The hurt and betrayal felt unbearable, yet it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. That day, I finally brought my business home, a move I had longed for but never dared to make.
At that moment, I had hit rock bottom emotionally. I was exhausted from tears, from constant calls to my mom, from bargaining with God. Relationships felt strained, my heart heavy, and I often asked, “Why can’t I catch a break?” But life has a way of guiding you through storms. By January 2019, we began emerging from ours. We joined a welcoming local church, began repairing relationships, achieved financial milestones, and for the first time in years, becoming a mom felt like a goal—not an obsession.
By January 2020, I felt strong enough to pursue fertility treatments again. Tim and I scheduled a consultation, but then COVID-19 hit. Our appointments went virtual, and month after month, treatments were postponed because they weren’t deemed essential. I wrestled with unease over the treatment plan and couldn’t understand why success seemed so elusive. Doctors reassured me, “On paper, you should have had children by now. Your infertility is unexplained. We can try medications, but if that fails, in vitro may be an option.” One day, while baking from the Magnolia Table Cookbook, a song played—“In My Arms” by Plumb. I stopped, compelled by the lyrics, sensing in my heart that one day, I would sing this song to my child. I just didn’t know how soon that day would come.
During this time, a new calling began stirring within me: foster care. Years earlier, I had resisted even discussing it, fearing attachment. But night after night, I read foster care blogs, scrolled Instagram accounts, and delved into the realities of foster parenting. Instead of fear, I felt a magnetic pull toward this path. On Mother’s Day 2020, driving home from my mother-in-law’s, I turned to Tim and said, “I believe God is calling us into foster care, not fertility treatments.” He agreed, and with that, a new chapter began.
We quickly connected with a foster agency, and within a month, our paperwork was nearly complete—until the call came: “Hello, Erin. We have an emergency placement—a beautiful 6.5-month-old baby girl, medically fragile. She may have cerebral palsy or Down syndrome.” My heart pounded. That very night, we said yes to the most precious little girl I had ever seen. The next day, we met her in a Sheetz parking lot—a tiny bundle with the biggest eyes, instantly capturing our hearts. Over the next two weeks, we drove 45 minutes each way every night to rock her to sleep, navigating the transition with the help of her previous foster mom.
Her name became Blessing. Before us, she had lived in two foster homes, and reunification wasn’t an option. But in our care, she flourished, thriving against every obstacle. Key milestones marked our journey together:
- June 25, 2020 – We said yes.
- June 26, 2020 – We met her for the first time.
- July 8, 2020 – She came home with us.
- May 13, 2021 – She received our last name.
Six years of infertility, 527 days in foster care, countless prayers, tears, and trials—all led to this moment. Through every struggle, God shaped us into a family. Blessing brought hope, healing, and the love we had been waiting for, making every heartbreak worth it.
