There was a long season when it felt like every prayer we prayed was rising into silence. We longed to grow our family, and what began as hope slowly became years of infertility, fertility treatments, failed IVF attempts, and losses I never imagined I would have to endure. We lost multiple children, including our daughter later in pregnancy, and with every loss came grief that was hard to put into words.
That was my “40.”
It felt lonely in a way I had never known. It seemed like everyone around us was receiving the very thing we were begging God for, while we were left waiting, hurting, and asking questions with no clear answers. There were moments I felt forgotten. Moments I felt angry. Moments I wondered if we were somehow being singled out for pain. And yes, there were moments I questioned whether God was even there.
But even in the darkest parts of that season, He kept leaving reminders that He had not abandoned us.
Sometimes it was through people showing up at just the right time. Sometimes it was in quiet moments where a small glimpse of hope broke through the grief. Sometimes it was simply a whisper in my heart that kept returning: Be still and know that I am God.
I did not always want to hear those words. Sometimes grief made me resist them. But God kept speaking them anyway.
And slowly, though I could not see it at the time, He was doing something in me. He was teaching me to trust Him when nothing made sense. Teaching me to hold on when I wanted to let go. Teaching me that His plans might look different than mine, but that did not make them less good.
The turning point came after multiple IVF attempts failed and we began to sense maybe this was not the path God had for us. Around the same time, friends who had walked similar roads began sharing their stories of fostering and adoption. Through their stories, God started planting something new in our hearts.
And even after losing our daughter, in the middle of unbearable grief, there was an unexplainable peace that settled over us. It felt as though God was somehow protecting us and preparing us for children we had not yet met.
What I thought was the death of a dream was actually God redirecting it.
There was a point where I hit rock bottom—exhausted, broken, questioning everything I believed. But in that place, I began to look back and see all the ways God had been carrying us. The people He sent. The protection I missed while in pain. The faithfulness hidden in what felt like silence.
And my heart began to change.
I stopped only asking, Why is this happening to me? and started trusting that God was writing a story bigger than I could understand.
Today, our “41” looks like two beautiful children God brought into our family through fostering and adoption. They are not a consolation prize for loss. They are part of God’s promise fulfilled. They are living proof that God brings beauty from ashes.
Without infertility, without loss, without unanswered prayers, we would never have stepped into fostering. We would never have met these children God already knew would be ours.
Looking back, I can see God was never absent. He was shaping us, preparing us, enlarging our compassion, and teaching us how to love children who needed a family.
And now He uses our story to encourage others walking through infertility and loss.
If you are still in your “40,” I want you to know this: silence does not mean God has stopped working. The valley may feel endless, but God may be doing His deepest work there. Don’t walk through your pain alone. Let people carry it with you. Stay obedient, even when it is hard. Trust Him, even when you cannot see the path.
He is faithful.
And sometimes the very place you think is breaking you is the place God is preparing you for a promise you cannot yet imagine.