How God found me during my years of infertility By Sara Hagerty Part 1 Shut Down . . . or Open Up? I climbed into bed that night and revisited a conversation I’d only recently been having with God. It felt like a stream of consciousness—a dissertation of thought—one that got interrupted occasionally by life but was always there. Instead of bitterness, though, I felt sadness. Somewhere underneath that bitter sheen I knew that vulnerability was my ticket out of a hard heart. My heart slowly shifted, reading the words of Psalm 18 as if I was the writer. I spoke what I hadn’t felt, hours earlier, until my heart warmed to feel. “But in my distress I cried out to the LORD; yes, I prayed to my God for help. He heard me from his sanctuary; my cry to him reached his ears” (Psalm 18:6).
She leaned across the counter drawing me in with a glint in her eye that said I have something worth shouting, but it’s sacred enough that I’ll whisper. I had seconds (not hours or even minutes) to prepare myself to not just receive but form a response to the kind of news that would often send me underground for days, in my heart. “I’m pregnant,” the words her mouth formed matched the look in her eye. She was glowing, expectant in more than just her womb. “We’re having another baby,” she said—almost mischievously, as if her third pass through this rite of passage was carelessly conceived.