Inconceivable

Longing – Sonia’s Story

I had always dreamed of the moment I’d find out I was pregnant. I’d take a home pregnancy test, show the positive result to my husband, and tell him he was going to be a father. I’d bask in the love and care everyone would shower on me. I had it all planned—when we’d try, what I needed to do beforehand, even when we’d go for baby number two.

Three years later, there I was, lying in an operation theatre—not in labor with my second child (as per my plan), but screaming in pain as the doctor measured my uterus to see if it could support an embryo for IVF.

As I lay there, I almost laughed—so much for those dreams! There was no happy surprise, no joyful tears. Instead, it was hormone injections, egg extractions, in-vitro fertilization, and implantation. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? I did get to be surprised eventually—when I found out I was pregnant—only to experience a miscarriage.

It was strange to mourn someone I never knew. Well-meaning people told me, “It’s okay, you can try again,” but I was furious. That felt like someone saying, “Your husband died, but you can marry again.” My pain was deep, even if others didn’t fully understand. I struggled with depression while others trivialized it.

With a lot of prayer and my husband’s support, I slowly healed. I still think about the baby I lost. I still calculate how old they’d be today. When we tried again, nothing happened. Every month, I imagined symptoms and believed I was pregnant. I could no longer relate to my friends—they were all talking about pregnancy, birth, and baby milestones.

It wasn’t jealousy—I was truly happy for them. But it amplified my own sorrow. I felt selfish and self-centered, and so I stayed silent. People often have the best intentions but no clue what to say to someone struggling with infertility.

Here’s one thing everyone needs to understand: relaxing does not cure infertility. I was told to “just relax,” “stop thinking about it,” and offered countless anecdotal “miracle” stories. A friend once called, depressed because she was pregnant again and was considering an abortion. I wept for two days.

How could God give a child to someone like that and not me? After every possible test and treatment, we reached our final option: IVF. I don’t know if it will work. I’ve learned that it’s not in my hands. I can plan all I want, but only the One who formed me can form a child in my womb.

God can do it—it's not too hard for Him. And if He chooses not to, I believe He has a good reason. My hope is to understand His purpose for my life and live it out as He wills. I have faith that if God brought me to it, He will take me through it.

Not in My Hands – Leena’s Story

As I change the fifth dirty diaper of the day, I smile. How life has changed! My husband and I are in our early thirties, and just two months ago, we welcomed our first child—a baby boy. Our road to pregnancy was a long one—nearly three years—and we didn’t know if we’d ever become parents.

We spent so much time trying to find the “perfect time” to start a family, only to realize we were never in control. After six months of fertility treatment, I was thrilled to find out I was pregnant. But at six weeks, I miscarried. I was devastated. After all that waiting, how could this happen?

Strangely, the experience gave me hope—I could get pregnant. We continued with medication, but we weren’t ready to try assisted methods. Instead, we decided to keep living our lives to the fullest.

We had supportive friends and family, and good health. We traveled, started a business, and moved cities. We also faced the reality that we might never have children—and chose to protect our relationship. Even without a baby, we were still a family.

A year after my miscarriage, I was shocked to discover I was pregnant—this time, without any assisted methods. The pregnancy went smoothly, and our son arrived nine months later. He is truly a gift—worth every tear, every waiting moment.

We’ve learned patience, faith, and the importance of surrender. I still can’t believe he’s ours.

A Hope and a Future – Anil’s Story

We’ve been married for 30 years—and we have no children.

At first, it was hard to accept. We love children deeply. We tried every treatment—medical, homeopathic, alternative therapies—but nothing worked. We were offered options like donor sperm or surrogacy, but we said no. If the child wouldn’t be both mine and hers, or if it meant just being a “womb,” we couldn’t go through with it.

My mother was deeply disappointed. She prayed, asked others to pray, and even believed prophecies that never came true. It broke her heart.

But we chose not to run to specific places for prayer. We believed we could always go directly to God. Our families were supportive, and we tried to be open about our situation. One time, when my niece was asked where our children were, she said, “We are all her kids.” I was touched.

We didn’t share our medical details widely—we didn’t want anyone blaming one of us. Yes, the pain was deep. But one day, God gave me a clear message through Scripture:

“I know the plans I have for you—plans to prosper you, not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

He didn’t promise me a child, but He promised that He knew what He was doing. That was enough. Peace followed.

One regret: we didn’t consider adoption seriously enough. We could have given two children a home and love. But now, our health won’t allow it. We believe it was not in God’s plan for us to parent children biologically—but He used our pain for something bigger.

We became involved in children’s and youth ministry. Today, across continents, there are young people whose lives we’ve touched. Sometimes, they call just to say, “I thought of you and what you did for me.” That’s God’s way of using us.