If you haven’t already heard, Maddox is going to be a big brother!!! Baby girl Carlsen is expected in May 2026! 

Even writing that still feels surreal. Not just because of what it means for our family, but because of the long, complicated, painful, yet grace-filled road that led us here.

For over a year leading up to this point, Adam and I lived in a constant cycle of appointments, procedures, injections, weekly early-morning long drives for bloodwork and ultrasounds, many many tears, and the kind of hope that feels brave on some days and naive on others. I did two full rounds of IVF. Two egg retrievals and two embryo transfers. Both rounds failed; two losses of two sweet lives that I prayed for and hoped would be mine. I endured over 100 injections. Over 30 appointments. 5 invasive procedures.

Much of our emotional, physical, and financial energy was poured into this journey, and we tried to stay grounded and focused on growing our family in what we thought and hoped and prayed was the healthiest and wisest way. Nonetheless, we frequently grappled with and wondered if this truly was the right way to grow our family. 

There was a time, closely after our first loss, when my hope was dwindling and all of my energy was depleted. All I could do was cry out to God begging for any glimpse of direction, any hint that He heard me. My heart was exhausted. And I needed just something, anything, to hold onto.

And then, as I was praying, I saw Him with His arms wrapped around Adam, Maddox, and I and He simply said “I have so much in store. Just you wait.” He then stretched out His arm as if welcoming someone, a little one, running towards us, far off in the distance.

I held onto that for months. Through bad news, through more waiting, through fear, through the shots and procedures and heavy hearts. It wasn’t a guarantee of how or when. But it was a promise. A promise that something was coming. Someone was coming.

And then, when we least expected it, while taking a break between next steps and awaiting a surgery that was going to attempt to diagnose and remove suspected endometriosis, I found out I was pregnant. Naturally.  

In the moment I saw the positive pregnancy test, something in me shifted. It wasn’t the panic or anxiety I thought I’d have from a natural conception; crippled by the fear of the unknown, instead it was surrender. In that moment, I knew there wasn’t another option but to trust God with this baby’s life.

For so long, we’d been trying to play our part in controlling the outcome — doing everything medicine allowed to avoid CF, to protect our family, to give our future child the gift of health. And while there’s nothing wrong with those tools or that wisdom, it became obvious to us that for this baby, that just wasn’t the path God wanted for us.

What He wanted was our surrender. Not our strategy. Not our control. Not our way. 

From that day when we found out I was pregnant, Adam and I have taken up our crosses daily, intentionally, and trusted God with this baby’s life — the same way we do with Maddox. It’s not our burden to carry when we have an all-knowing, all-sufficient, good, good, father who cares for us with more detail than we can even fathom. 

And, wow, is He good. We just found out, like a miracle wrapped inside another miracle, that our baby girl does not have cystic fibrosis. 

Receiving that test result, while of course was filled with overwhelming relief and gratitude, felt like God was saying, “See? I knew what I was doing.” 

This baby’s health is not just an answered prayer for us, it’s an answered prayer for Maddox’s life too. Of course, we would have done the full medical marathon all over again for her if needed. But now , we won’t have to. 

We won’t have two prescriptions of enzymes to fill. 

We won’t have two Trikafta plans to manage.

We won’t have two sets of calories and protein to calculate.

We won’t have two sets of chest PT routines each morning and night.

We won’t have two children navigating clinic days, blood draws, and the enormous weight CF places on a family.

We won’t have to divide that level of care between two children. Our full medical attention can stay on Maddox. And that’s an incredibly insurmountable gift.

And still, this isn’t about “less work” or “less fear.” It’s about the overwhelming wisdom of a God who sees far beyond the “right now” and understands every angle of our lives. A God who considered Maddox’s needs, this baby’s future, and ours all at once. I realize now that God wasn’t withholding for all those months leading up to this miracle. He was preparing. He was protecting. He was aligning.

Now, as we look toward May 2026, toward meeting this little girl who has already changed us and is such a testimony to the power of surrender, I smile when I think about that vision I had. I now know she was the child I saw running toward us when I was praying that day. She was ours long before we knew her. 

Now I get the absolute blessing and privilege of stretching out my arm and welcoming her right on in.