A Story

Soon after I had my son (nearly three years ago, holy moly!) I knew, KNEW that I would do everything possible to give him a sibling some day. Even in the hospital, as I sat up in my hospital bed, swollen and in pain and ridiculously tired, I knew this boy deserved a sibling, a pal. My mother in law asked me, somewhat nervously, how many of these little blessings I wanted to have. I may have been in stalled labor for a week and I may have had the most physically painful experience just hours before, but I looked down at my beautiful, beautiful baby and said "At least one more but as many as God will give me". My heart had never been as full as it was at that moment. I was terrified, but so, so in love with my tiny baby and with my new name: Momma. All of a sudden I knew, KNEW, that that's why I am here. To be momma.

Fast forward to a year later. Our boy had just turned one. I had been quietly struggling with when to talk to Ben about wanting another child. I had been praying fervently but knew I shouldn't nag my husband. This would not help things.

I met a lady at a children's museum with a daughter the same age as my son. She told me she was nine weeks pregnant with her second. No big deal, this happens everywhere, all the time. But at that moment I felt a quiet nudging: Go on, talk to your husband. Now's a good time. So that weekend, I got really quiet. The thing is, Ben had only ever wanted one child. When he asked me to marry him, I said that was okay. I was 20. So crazy young. I wasn't thinking about babies at 20. Granted my heart changed almost instantly after we got married, but that's also another story.

After we had our boy, I dreaded telling Ben I wanted more kids. He is the silent type, and when I upset him, he simply stops talking. It's difficult to a communicator like myself.
We were on a walk that afternoon in early 2011. I said that I wanted to discuss something but he had to promise not to get mad. His eyes got big. I told him that God had been putting the ache in my heart for another child. At first, my husband seemed frustrated. ANOTHER ONE? I lowered my eyes and looked at the ground. So much for my communication skills.
But then, a miracle happened. He said "You know what? It's been on my heart too. Ever since the birthday party. We can try".
I don't think I even need to say that I started crying. This was a miracle. I had prayed for so long for us to be on the same page. I was deleriously happy.

I didn't know.

I didn't know that seven months later, I'd lose a pregnancy at 12 weeks. I didn't know the agony that was to come from losing our Savannah.

I didn't know the tears I'd cry.

I didn't know that a year after that, I'd lose yet another pregnancy. Baby Shiloh.

I didn't know then that when my son's third birthday approached, he'd still be an only child.

I didn't know that all of this would make me not even want to be married to my best friend anymore.

There was so much I didn't know.

So would I have quieted that ache for another child, had I known the future?

That's the million dollar question, isn't it?

As sad, as painful, as much of a daily struggle for joy as this has been, I know it's my story. I know God gave me this story. It was written for me long before I ever got here. I know I can be a light to women everywhere struggling with infertility, if only I shake off the fear that makes me want to keep quiet.
My story isn't finished yet. So many people have asked me to write a book on all of it. I will. But I'm still holding out for a happy ending.



 Philippians 4:6- Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.