I got married at the age of 29 and had been trying to conceive since then. I accepted Christ in the second year of my marriage but praying to God was not part of my daily routine then.
I went through umpteen times of sitting on the toilet bowl, crying my heart out and feeling sorry for myself. The worst was that, throughout the years, I seemed to have lesser friends to catch up with as my friends were caught up in their new phrase of motherhood.
I had seen three private gynaecologists and gave up quickly on them when I just could not conceive with the plans they had for me. I started to live in denial and questioned friends around me about parenthood. One day, I started to assume for God of my inability to conceive.
Looking back, I had not known much about God. I assumed then that since He had heard my fear about having unhealthy babies, He would accede to my request to not be pregnant. Thus, whenever my period started, my prideful self would reason that God had heard me, therefore He would not give me a life that I might rather destroy.