The endometriosis kept getting worse, and after multiple procedures to remove the tissue from other organs, paired with the miscarriage, I had a hysterectomy. Now it was final. I most certainly would never carry a child. I’d never give birth. There were other options, but it seemed anytime I considered them God made the option impossible. God didn’t want me to be a mom.

Understanding His reasoning has been a journey in and of itself. I watch evil people have children just to abuse them, murder them, sell them. Why do they get to have children, but I couldn’t? Why do evil, soulless people get pregnant, but good women can’t? The answers to my questions have gone unanswered, but in His silence I found a bit of solace. Faith requires trust in the unknown. I have faith that while I don’t know nor do I understand why I couldn’t be a mom, God has a good reason. And that is enough.

I still get angry and overwhelmingly sad at times, especially when I hear or read a heartbreaking story about a child, but I no longer yell or curse at God, and it no longer lasts very long. Instead, I allow the feelings, and I bring them to Him in a constructive manner. I know He listens, and I feel His comfort. I don’t need all of the answers anymore, and that has brought me some peace and contentment.