I'm not a devoutly religious person. I was raised in a church. I attend church. I believe in God and I celebrate Christian holidays (although, mostly from the hallmark side).
Over the past year, my belief began to dwindle. I couldn't fathom how or why I was the one being punished or burdened with the life of infertility.
The last few times we have been in church, I have cried. At the same point in every service, I tear up. During the time of prayer, the minister talks about those listed in need of prayer, about the things in life that need prayer, and about the community around us. But each time, at the end, he concludes with asking God to listen to the silent prayers we keep in our hearts.
Many a Sunday, I sat there at that time and prayed for different parts of our treatments to work. I prayed medicines would work. I prayed embryos would grow. Ultimately, I prayed for a baby.
As I sit there in the pew now, I have an answer to that prayer. And, I can't help but cry that my pray was answered. Again, I'm not devoutly religious. I do believe that things happen for a reason. I don't understand the reasoning sometimes.
I do know that at point were I was at my lowest, I was picked up. Whether is was because of God or not, I don't know. But when I needed it most, my prayers were answered.
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