I’m not sure I’ve ever been so glad to say goodbye to a year as I was 2016. It was a year of hurt and just feeling off. On June 25th of that year, I suffered a miscarriage at ten weeks pregnant. Although I have four children here on earth, this miscarriage made number four for me. I’m not sure if it was my age or that I was farther along, but that miscarriage was the most difficult and scary. I won’t go into too many gory details, but there was a lot of blood loss and even a loss of  consciousness a couple of times.

The miscarriage left me emotionally, physically, and spiritually weak. I had no energy for weeks because my hemoglobin had gotten so dangerously low. I had been a strong runner, but I could barely walk to the end of my driveway without having to stop for breath. I didn’t feel like myself at all. Not to mention that I’d lost a baby. A baby that I was supposed to hold and cuddle.

It was a couple of months after that miscarriage that I realized I was completely at peace with not having any more children. I was ready to move on to the next stage of motherhood. I didn’t think my heart or body could endure another miscarriage as the one I’d just suffered. When I voiced my thoughts to my husband, he understood. And I’ll never forget his next sentence, “I guess it’s time for us to start thinking about fostering.”

Fostering had been something we’d talked about, but since we were still open to having babies, it seemed far off. All of a sudden, we were in a place where it was time. And even though I knew this was the path we were supposed to head down, there was fear. Lots of it.

There’s something hopeful about heading into a new year.