For the last eight months, I’ve been waiting for my heart to change. I’ve been waiting on the sidelines as my life plays out before me. I’ve been waiting for an answer to a prayer that might never be fully answered.

I have really just been waiting for a miracle.

I always wanted two babies, close in age. I wanted TWO little bums to wipe and TWO car seats in the back and TWO giggling kids at the breakfast table each morning. It’s been over a year since our little family’s plans were rocked upside down. Alie, I know you want it, but it’s me who decides. And you don’t get to raise two children just yet, is what that nice godly voice inside of my head told me. Wait, wait, wait, it said.

And so I’ve waited. But I didn’t ever expect that while I was patiently waiting, my desire for TWO would disappear.

It’s not that I only want one child. I really do want to fill the back seat of our car with rambunctious, giggling little people. But it so turns out that after you’ve buried one of your babies in the earth, it gets infinitely harder to make that happen.

It’s a giant leap of faith, you see. It’s stepping out again into the unknown, where babies aren’t always healthy and don’t always get to join your family here on earth. The unknown is full of what-ifs and tears in the shower that try to squeeze into the empty holes in your heart.

So I started praying for a miracle, praying for this heart of mine to change. Heavenly Father and I became good friends. We started by talking about my fear of holding a baby. We talked about baby names and genders and not being able to sleep on my stomach for five months. We talked about health and sickness and sacrifice. We talked about fear of the unknown, and what if this happened to me again.

I came a long way in a short period of time. I started actually acknowledging again that babies are cool little things to have around. I started reading up on swaddling and breastfeeding, and have planned a cute little nursery out in my head. The absence of the anger I once felt  towards the entire population of infants is quite refreshing.

But the other night I was on my knees in conversation with God again, and it was impressed upon my conscience that all you needed to do was ask for it. If the timing is right, it will be given to you. Don’t sit around waiting for things to change, make them happen!

And so I did. My fear isn’t entirely gone, and I’m still struggling with a slight fear of babies.

But my desire for two is slowly coming back, and to me, it’s nothing short of a miracle.