This is one of those stories where you can either say, “Wow, what a coincidence,” or you can choose to believe in miracles. We choose the latter.

I’ve shared bits and pieces of our journey to conceiving, but I didn’t write much during the actual season of waiting. In retrospect, I wish I had—because only then could you fully understand the depth of our longing and the fervency of our prayers.

In 2023, after five years of marriage, we took a long-awaited trip to Italy. It was incredible. We spent months planning so we could truly experience Italian life—not just the tourist spots. As Roman Catholics, we also knew this would be a chance to connect deeply with the roots of our faith. We wanted the trip to double as a pilgrimage.

One of the most anticipated stops was the Tuscan countryside—the rolling hills, vineyards, and centuries-old villas felt like something out of a dream. We stayed in a monastery-turned-luxury hotel just outside the city walls of Siena.

Jordan and I love to adventure and walk everywhere. As soon as we were dropped off at the monastery, we put on our walking shoes and hiked (very much uphill!) to the city. We knew St. Catherine was from Siena, so her church was high on our list. What’s incredible about the Catholic Church is that some saints are incorrupt—meaning their bodies haven’t fully decomposed after death, which is considered miraculous. We’d read that this was true of St. Catherine, who died in 1380.

Yes, you read that right—1380. And yes, her head is still on display, severed from her body. I know it sounds wild, but look it up!

We had never seen an incorrupt saint before, so we didn’t know what to expect. When we entered the church—a humble and somewhat weathered place compared to others we’d visited—we quietly approached her shrine. I can’t even describe what it felt like to look at her. My heart was in disbelief. Jordan’s eyes said it all. It was like seeing something you’ve been skeptical of your whole life—something you don’t believe until you see it with your own eyes.

I won’t say she looked fully alive, but she definitely wasn’t just a skull.

At this point, you might be wondering why her head is separate from her body. After she died, her body was buried in Rome, but the people of Siena wanted her remains brought home. So, they tried to secretly transport her head in a bag. When they were caught by guards, legend says the guards looked inside the bag and saw only rose petals.

Seeing her head (and her thumb!) lit a fire in us. A deeper faith. A renewed belief in miracles. In a God who uses signs and wonders to draw us closer and to invite us to ask big things of Him.

We decided to return the next day to pray again. That night, though, I came down with a terrible cold—the kind that makes your body ache and even swallowing painful. I was crushed that I couldn’t go back. Jordan, feeling fine, went without me. When he returned, he told me that he went to St. Catherine’s shrine and prayed fervently that we would have a baby. He said that for the first time in a long while, he genuinely believed our prayer would be answered.

A month later, we found out I was pregnant.

Early in the pregnancy, we had no desire to find out the baby’s gender. We knew the gift would be the same, whether a boy or girl, and that mystery felt sacred. (I’m sure it drove our family a little crazy!) We were planning a home birth, so we had to look for an independent ultrasound practice. Since Jordan’s only day off was Monday, it limited our options—but we eventually found a place with one Monday appointment available in April, perfectly timed for our 19–21 week scan.

The date? April 29th.

That morning, as we were eating breakfast, I opened my phone and the first thing I saw was that it was the Feast Day of St. Catherine of Siena.

I wish I had a video of my jaw hitting the floor. I told Jordan, half expecting him to say, “What a coincidence.” But instead, he gave me a look of holy crap, and we both knew—this wasn’t a coincidence. I told him, “If this baby is a girl, we’re going to have to honor St. Catherine.”

He looked at me like, It’s definitely a girl, but neither of us said anything more.

At the ultrasound, the tech explained that gender is usually identified at the end, depending on the baby’s position. But as she put the gel on my belly and moved the wand, there she was—so clearly a girl. I blurted out, “Is it a girl?!” and the tech typed “It’s a girl” on the screen.

Our sweet girl had her legs fully over her head, making absolutely sure we knew right away.

As soon as we got in the car, her name came to us. Sofia had always been a favorite. But now her middle name was clear. We had always wanted to honor my Mexican heritage and use Latin names for our children. So, Catalina—Spanish for Catherine—was perfect.

Our sweet Catalina, setting this world on fire with her joyful presence.

I am so thankful for our faith. For choosing to believe in miracles instead of coincidences. For not brushing aside what God so clearly puts before us. I’m thankful for the intercession of the saints—for St. Catherine, who gave us an example of courage and holiness, and who walked with us in prayer as we waited for our miracle.

If you’ve made it to the end of this story, thank you for letting me share my heart with you. I am praying for you!

St. Catherine of Siena, pray for us.