“Shattered Dreams and a Miracle of Hope: The Story of Emily”
“Oliver, son, you and Emily have been together for three years, and still no children,” grumbled Oliver’s mum over the phone. “Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger—we want grandkids to spoil. Maybe your wife should get checked out, see if she needs any treatments.”
“Mum, I’ve been thinking about it too,” Oliver replied. “Emily says these things take time, that we just need to be patient.”
“I’ve got a friend who’s a nurse at a top clinic,” his mum went on. “I’ll ring her, get Emily booked in for tests. And don’t think you can hide anything—I’ll see all the results myself.”
And just like that, it was settled. Emily, without even knowing, was suddenly under scrutiny. She accidentally overheard the conversation between Oliver and his mum, hiding in the bedroom. Her heart clenched with dread: “Could this really be true?” She’d dreamed so desperately of a child, imagined cradling a baby in her arms, singing lullabies. But her mother-in-law’s words shattered those dreams into pieces.
That evening, Emily sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the telly. Her favourite series felt distant, unfamiliar. The sound of a key turning in the lock made her flinch. Oliver walked in, dropped his bag on the floor, and sat beside her. His face was tense, his eyes avoiding hers. “Em, you’ve got to understand,” he began, each word hitting like a hammer. “I’m a bloke—I need an heir. With you… it’s just not happening. Look.”
He handed her a folder. Emily opened it and saw the medical reports. There it was, in black and white: no chance of pregnancy. Tears spilled over before she could stop them. “I want a divorce,” Oliver said quietly, firmly.
Emily couldn’t breathe from the pain. The man she loved was cutting her loose so easily, as if their three years together meant nothing. “I’m not what he wants,” she thought, packing her things. She moved back in with her dad, into his old flat on the outskirts of London. Her mum had passed five years ago, and her dad lived alone, often out with his mates. “Tough break, love,” he said, shaking his head. “Who’d want you now?”
His words stung, but Emily already knew the truth—her chances of finding another husband were slim. “Guess it’s just my lot in life,” she decided, forcing herself to stay strong. She had to carry on: work, rebuild. She took a job as an office administrator, burying herself in routine to numb the hurt.
One day at a café, she bumped into an old schoolmate, James. They got chatting, reminiscing about their days in secondary. “Em, you know I always had a soft spot for you,” he admitted suddenly. “Still do. You’re single, so am I. Fancy giving it a go?”
Emily hesitated. “James, I like you too,” she said honestly. “But Oliver left me because I can’t have kids. You’ll want someone who can give you a family.”
“Go see another doctor,” James suggested. “Could’ve been a mistake.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Emily sighed. “I just gave up after that first diagnosis.”
“If you’re up for it, let’s give it a shot,” James said gently. “I don’t care what any test says. You matter to me.”
Emily agreed, relieved by his kindness. A new round of tests confirmed the worst: she’d never conceive. She told James straight away. “Well, that’s that, then,” he said calmly. “Adoption’s always an option.”
A month later, Emily moved in with James. They married, and with him, she felt safe. They started talking about adopting, dreaming of a son. But one night, Emily woke up in tears. She’d dreamed of her mum, who smiled and said, “Love, you’ll have children. Go to church, say a prayer—it’ll happen.” The dream felt so real, Emily couldn’t shake it. She rarely thought of her mum anymore, and the vision left her aching. “Shame it was just a dream,” she thought, missing her mum’s comfort.
She’d never put stock in prophetic dreams, but the longing for a child wouldn’t leave her. Months later, her coworkers mentioned a trip to a cathedral where relics of a saint were being displayed. “Fancy joining us?” they asked. Emily remembered the dream and thought, “Why not? Can’t hurt.”
The cathedral was packed, the queue long. When it was her turn, Emily touched the relics and whispered, “Lord, you didn’t give me children, but I’ve dreamed of nothing else. They say it’s impossible. Please, help me.” A weight lifted, as if something had been lifted off her shoulders.
Two months later, Emily found out she was pregnant. She couldn’t believe it—she went to the doctor, and he confirmed it: a miracle. Tears of joy streamed down her face. “I’m going to be a mum!” she kept saying, overwhelmed. Her mum’s dream had been a sign.
Emily gave birth to a healthy boy. Two years later, she was pregnant again, and another son arrived. Life with two kids was hectic, but Emily thrived, glowing with happiness. In the end, she and James had five sons. “If God keeps blessing us, we’ll keep having them,” they decided. Emily, whose dream of motherhood once seemed hopeless, thanked fate for every chaotic, joyful day with her boys. The Lord had heard her prayers, giving her the family she’d always longed for.