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Rural Blue Earth, Minnesota, resident Deb Oothoudt has been through many physical and emotional challenges. She begins her story with a bit of background information about her growing up years and credits her parents as role models for setting a daily example that was more valuable than mere words of instruction and advice, “They literally showed us with their walk of faith, the way they lived out their faith in the community.”

Her father was one of a group of men who founded King’s Aid, a non-profit organization dedicated to distributing clothing and household items to Texas, Mexico and many other destinations all over the world. Deb says, “From the time I was very young, we were going on mission trips everywhere.” They would spend a week during Christmas vacation with their parents and other families unloading and distributing clothing. She cites a scripture passage from Deuteronomy 6 that instructs parents to teach their children by example as they “walk along the road” and says, “I really honor them for being that example for me.”

Deb became acquainted with her future husband while working with her church youth group, “I was 26 when John and I started dating. Although, when he asked me to go to a concert, I didn’t realize we were going on a date. I thought it was a group outing. I couldn’t figure out why he made sure I sat in the front seat by him. He was trying to hold my hand. He had to tell me later that it was supposed to be our first date.”

For their next date, which also happened to be Valentine’s Day, John offered her a choice: Bowling, a movie or a picnic. “I chose picnic—he must have known that was what I was going to pick because he had everything packed and had even blown the snow out to access a small lake nearby.” As they were driving Deb began to wonder about her decision, “We drove down there, it was a deserted location. I didn’t really know this guy. What had I gotten myself into?”

“When we parked, he told me I had to promise not to look back.” Putting horror movie plots and serial killer stories aside, she complied and finally heard him say, “You can look now.” To her surprise, he had arranged an elegant picnic in the back of his SUV complete with his mother’s crystal goblets and a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of sparkling water. “It was really fancy. He had talked to my sister and found out all of my favorite things. He had even made a special photo album about his life.”

They were married a year and a half later in 1993. Describing their first year of marriage, Deb candidly states, “There was quite a bit of head-butting,” as they adjusted to married life. After a year of marriage, they decided to start a family and in a short time Deb became pregnant. “I was excited, scared and so sick that everyone found out right away.”

When the time came during her prenatal care to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, the doctor was unable to hear anything. An ultrasound was scheduled and together she and John received the devastating news that their baby had no heartbeat. She wept in the small dark room and then went home to wait. Several weeks later, she went into labor and delivered the baby they would have named Dana, “You don’t know how much you want to be a mom until you aren’t one.” A private funeral service allowed family and friends to support Deb and John.

When more than a year had passed without conceiving a child, the couple began the arduous process of infertility diagnosis and treatments. Wondering why, when she had become pregnant so quickly before, they were having trouble now, she says, “Infertility becomes like a silent part of your soul. People don’t like to talk about it. It feels like a betrayal of your own body.” The couple’s faith sustained them through this time though trusting and waiting was not easy. Deb also began to wonder, “Is there some other reason I’m not supposed to get pregnant?”

Not long after having that thought, around Christmas time, she noticed a small indentation in her breast but put off seeing her doctor until February. Her doctor referred her to a surgeon, “He told me to wait a couple months and come back. I wasn’t supposed to worry about it because I was only 29.” At Deb’s insistence, however, she underwent a fine needle biopsy.

Two days later, Deb received a phone call telling her that the biopsy had revealed a malignancy. She had breast cancer.

The couple elected for a referral to Mayo in Rochester, Minnesota, “I received great care and with their help we came up with a plan for my treatment.” She underwent a modified radical mastectomy. Numerous lymph nodes were involved which often lowers the survival rate.  After being released from the hospital, she came home to recover. “I felt good and bounced back quite quickly.”

As her body healed, the hours spent resting became Deb’s time to consider her life, her faith and her priorities, “I had been looking for a swingset because I was babysitting my niece and nephew and I finally found one advertised for sale. My grandparents had come to see me and I looked out the window to see my dad, my grandpa and my husband putting it together. I thought of the words from Jeremiah 29:11 and the promise of ‘a future and a hope.’”

The next phase of her treatment required chemotherapy and radiation treatment. Deb says bluntly, “It was horrible.” However, as she continues her story, she also remembers how her mother carried a rocking chair up the stairs so that she could be close to her bedside. She also recalls how her nephews picked her a bouquet of lilacs, that someone planted her garden and how good it felt when her hair grew back in the fall.

She corrects herself, “It was horrible and beautiful.”

“I wondered why God would let this happen to me—and then knew the answer: That no matter what happened, He would never leave me or forsake me. Whether I was walking into the chemotherapy room or lying on the bathroom floor, too sick to move, God was with me all the time.”

Her recovery was not without incident. There were complications along the way and a recurrence of the cancer in her chest wall. Eventually, she finished all of her treatments, “The fellow patients from the waiting room gave me a rose my last day. We had such fun laughing and talking, like meeting friends for doughnuts and coffee every morning. That family is precious to me still.”

In late 1999, Deb was diagnosed with ovarian cysts. “I was in so much pain. The doctors were watching them carefully and one looked especially suspicious. They decided because my cancer was estrogen receptive, it would be best to remove my ovaries. I ended up having a hysterectomy. That was a hard hill to climb.”

Earlier that year, she had participated in a cancer walk and met a woman who worked at an adoption agency who asked if they had ever considered adoption. “We were definitely open to adoption but finding an adoption agency would be difficult. Our choices were limited because the birth mother would be unlikely to choose someone who had cancer. Race or ethnicity was never even an issue.”

“While I was in the hospital, John decided to stay with me and sleep on a cot in my room. I remember his phone ringing and he went out in the hallway to answer it. He didn’t tell me right away, but I soon learned that it was the adoption agency asking if we would be interested in adopting a little boy.”

“I came home after a hysterectomy expecting a child. Only God could put that together.”

They spent the next few weeks getting the paperwork in place, a process that normally takes months, “It was crazy. I did my best to recover quickly. Josiah was born on February 2, 2000 and together they boarded a plane to meet their son, “There were lots of tears—to have someone put a baby in your arms—it’s too precious to even be called a gift.”

Two years later, another call came, “This time they had a little girl for us.” Born one month premature, their new daughter Lizzie was close to her normal birth weight when they went to get her, “She was so tiny and sweet. Someone approached me in a store and thought I was carrying a doll.”

Cancer free since 1997, Deb is able to look back and sort through the memories, good and bad. Josiah is now 11 and Lizzie is 9. The children attend parochial school in Fairmont. They have limited contact with one of the birth parents—to the extent that the birth parent wants. All communication goes through the adoption agency.

“I am so blessed,” Deb says as she opens her Bible and read this verse from Psalm 113: He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the Lord. “Many people do not want to use the word ‘barren’ to describe infertility. But that’s how it feels. Empty. This verse showed me that being barren does not have to be permanent.”

There’s nothing barren about the Oothoudt’s country home, which, complete with a baseball diamond, play house, bikes, kayaks and a four-wheeler, reflects the joy Josiah and Lizzie have brought into their lives, “Here I am, I never thought I’d be married. I always wanted to be a mom. I thought I couldn’t. Now I’m a stay at home mom—who’s hardly ever at home!”

Sharing the importance of faith, family and optimism are important to Deb, “It is not hopeless! When diagnosed with infertility or cancer or whatever, we don’t have to let that define our lives. Get the treatment you need, then get on with your life. I don’t want my tombstone to read ‘Survivor’ but rather ‘Whew, that was fun!’”