My phone rang at 8:00 that Sunday morning. I shot straight up excitedly — hands shaking — trying to muster the coordination and mental acuity to answer the call before it was too late.

But in my sleepy fog, I had mistaken my alarm for The Call.

I looked over at Tyler, sound asleep with the bedspread neatly covering him up to his nose. On my side of the bed, the pile of supplemental blankets – messy as they looked – called to me to settle back down into their warm den. I obliged, burrowing into the embrace of covers that comforted my disappointment.

I closed my eyes and tried to re-orient my emotions. Patience had never been a strength of mine. We had hoped and waited for three years before finally getting pregnant with our daughter Elise. Now we were waiting for our second child. A boy. Due any day now. And instead of eagerly longing for my water to break, we were waiting for The Call.

Infertility had once chained me in a cell of despair. Though I’d desperately strained against its bonds, it seemed that nothing could set me free.

But I was wrong. Months after finally getting pregnant, God taught me that infertility was not a curse, but a commission. It was not a chain to hold me back, but a rein to guide me forward. Before our own flesh-and-blood baby girl was even born, God stirred our hearts for a child that was not “our own.”

Huddled in my bed, I began praying for this baby boy we now waited on. I prayed for his mother, who had chosen us to be his parents. I prayed for a safe and healthy delivery. For God to comfort her as she gave a piece of herself up to us. I prayed for both of their futures. This brave woman who selflessly chose life and adoption and this baby boy who deserved all the love of a family.

I fell back asleep praying for them both.

At 8:20, my phone rang again. I reached for it to swipe off the “snooze,” but soon realized that it was not my alarm. It was the social worker from the adoption agency calling!

I fumbled to answer it, shaking even more this time than before. Her words made me gasp and sob:

“Are you ready to come meet your baby boy?”

Without knowing it, at the very moment of his birth, I had been praying for him. God had woken me up, prompted me to pray for him. The Father who cares so deeply for the fatherless, wanted to make sure our son’s life began with a reminder that he has never been unloved or unknown by God.

“For you formed my inward parts;
    you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

– Psalm 139:13-14

Still in awe, we hurriedly packed our bags and headed to the east side of the state to meet

our son.