A letter of hope, left for someone still in the night.
After years of fertility treatment, a miracle
God, have You forgotten me?
A few days after surgery, I suddenly began to bleed heavily. We called an ambulance, and I was rushed to the hospital.
This was the treatment I had kept going through because I wanted a baby. And in the middle of it, I was riding in an ambulance.
We flew around the world, looking for the best treatment we could find. Japan, Taiwan, the United States. We saw 15 doctors. I had three surgeries and seven egg retrievals.
Still, I could not see a way out.
What I had pictured as a child was a life married at 28, raising three children. But I got married at 41. I had finally met my husband, and I wanted to build a family with him. I never imagined the road to that hope would be this long, or this hard.
At work, I had opened a way by effort. Here, my ability, my effort, and my strong will would not work as I wanted them to.
It felt like an endless tunnel. I felt as if even God had forgotten me.
And yet there were four people who kept praying for me every day. My father and my mother, my husband Moto, and Moto’s mother.
Connie
