Many years ago, as a young wife, I was having trouble getting pregnant due to a painful medical condition called endometriosis. It seemed that ALL of my friends were having babies, and there were lots of baby showers to attend.

I loved children, and as each month came and went with no baby conceived, I experienced tremendous disappointment. I cried many tears and longed to hold a baby in my arms. Now in my mid-30s, my biological clock was ticking loudly, and the “baby hunger” became excruciating!

Church became a painful place for me on Mothers’ Day. The oldest mother, the youngest mother, and the mother with the most children were honored and applauded. Then all mothers were asked to stand. I would be sitting while nearly every other married woman was standing. I felt embarrassed, left out, and defective.

Well-meaning people wondered why I didn’t have children. Others said hurtful things like: “God only gives children to people who would make good mothers.” An elderly lady even predicted: “You will have nothing to live for when you are 60.”

Then one day a friend from church put a book into my hands—Taste of Tears, Touch of God by Ann Kiemel Anderson. I read it in one sitting, at my kitchen table. Ann had suffered years of physical and emotional torture from unsuccessful fertility procedures, numerous miscarriages, and surgeries. Her plans to adopt a baby also failed when the birth mother changed her mind at the last minute.

As I read about Ann’s struggles, I wept and mourned my losses too. Somehow, by God’s grace, my raw emotions were healed as I read her story. I stopped obsessing about having a baby and was happy for my pregnant friends and the young mothers all around me. I was able to go to baby showers instead of dropping off a gift ahead of time for fear of breaking into tears in front of my friends. Mothers’ Days also ceased to be painful for me, as I decided to focus on remembering and honoring my own mother, instead of thinking of my own lack of motherhood.

I wrote to Ann to tell her how much I appreciated her book, and she wrote back a sweet and compassionate note, acknowledging the many deaths of hope we had both experienced.

Ann’s story had a surprising and happy ending—God provided four sons to her and her husband through open adoption, as they mentored unwed mothers.

In my case, God did not see fit to give me a child. Like Ann, I also was devastated by a failed adoption. But in retrospect, I see God’s wisdom for my own situation, which was unforeseeable at that time. I later went through two divorces from abusive men, and—had I had children—they would have suffered terribly.

As the decades have gone by, I have observed that not all children bring joy to their parents. Many bring anguish, heartbreak, and sorrow despite heroic efforts at parenting.

Even though I was unable to have a baby of my own, God has been so good to me! I am a stepmother and stepgrandmother. I am also blessed to be with children every day due to my career. I am very thankful for the opportunity to contribute to young lives.

My life is overflowing with love, joy, and peace (and I am over 60)!

(The author wishes to remain anonymous. Update: Ann Kiemel Anderson died on March 1, 2014. Her husband died in 2000. Their four adopted sons are now in their 20s.)