When I hate my heart and body with all its problems that make me permanently infertile, I see a heart that was pierced for me and loves me when I can't love myself. If that perfect heart can love my imperfect one, then maybe I am worthy of love. When your heart can't take anymore, let His heart carry yours.

St. Colette of Corbie was born in 1381 to parents who had long given up hope. When we hear of a woman conceiving at 60 years of age, it's easy to stop reading there. The miracle becomes the whole story, and we miss everything that came after. But St. Colette's life didn't end at her birth; it began there. And if we reduce her to the answer her parents received, we rob ourselves of the witness she offers: a life that shows us what fruitfulness looks like.

“Grief is not a state but a process, like a walk in a winding valley with a new prospect at every bend.” — C. S. Lewis From the moment you wake up until your head finally hits the pillow, grief from infertility can feel like a weight you can’t outrun. Some days you come up for air; other days, it swallows you whole. I had known grief before, and it usually passed. But during a difficult adoption process, grief settled in and refused to leave. From the beginning, something abo