“We fought for you,” I told him as he nuzzled in to read his bedtime stories.
His big bright two-year-old eyes stared back at me with a glimmering smile that slowly spread across his face. And I wanted so desperately to tell him the whole story. I wanted to tell him about the infertility and the lack of hope and the heavy tears. But mostly, I wanted to tell him about the abundance that came from the lack, about the faithfulness of our Father and the miracles He works in the middle of our empty seas. Because there he was in my arms with a beating heart and a wistful smile, and there I was with gratitude oozing from the very center of my being.
Someday, when he’s old enough to understand it, I’ll tell him about it. I’ll tell him that I had grown accustomed to the sea, to the lack that was sinking underneath it. Because for nearly ten years, I swam in it. I dove headfirst into the deep end and paddled my way through the absence. No light on the horizon, no hope in the dark.
I’ll tell him about the times God said, “cast the net” (John 21:6). And then I’ll tell him about the doubt when my net came up empty. But then I’ll tell him about the time that it came up full, when I saw the positive pregnancy test in the midst of a sea of years of negatives. And then I’ll listen to his heart beat within his chest and revel in God’s most perfect and abundant plan. Because I had to have all of those empty nets in order for the right one to be filled.
I don’t know what sort of fish you’re trying to catch or whether you keep coming up empty, too. All I know is that God has a plan for each of us. Those empty nets mean something. Our job is to just keep casting those nets and to wait for the abundance only God provides.
Pray or share this sensitive prayer for those journeying through infertility.
Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. After battling years of infertility, she and her husband welcomed their first child on September 11, 2016. You can find out more about her here.