In Childhood/ Life/ Parenting

Happy Birthday to our miracle boy!!

I don’t know how to start. Where to begin.

IF you want to get caught up you can start Here and HERE

By now, a year later, it feels like his smile has always been a part of our daily lives. 

I feel like I cant believe there was ever a day that I didn’t love him, and yet, today he is one year old and I am left dumb founded that he is no longer that newborn that fit perfectly into the crook of my arm.

Disney got it right when they depicted the girl falling in love with the boy with…. Just. One. Look.

They got one part wrong though, that “girl” was actually 29 years old and she was looking into the eyes of the baby boy that grew deep within  her swollen belly for nine months.

Love is a funny thing. 

A mothers love grows and multiplies with every smile, every stare and every cry. 

The love I have for my third baby, my miracle boy, is something I cant even describe.

I guess the best way to start trying to describe it, would be to begin at the very beginning….

I am far from a spontaneous woman. I think I have become more strict, more regimen, with a thought out plan for everything, after my husband and I had children. Children thrive on schedules and I do too. SO, each time my baby turns two, I know it is time to start planning for the next baby. 

Baby number three was planned, baby number three was prayed over and longed for. When my cycle didn’t come that month, I just “knew” baby number three was not only the desire of my heart, but was actually going to happen.

When the magic two-line-sticks didn’t read “pregnant” and the cramping in my stomach increased, I tried to stay positive. I prayed more for that baby we had planned for and we waited with great anticipation for two pink lines to appear on those magic sticks.


For being a tough mama, the pains in my stomach got so intense that one evening I begged my husband to take me to the Emergency Room. 

I pictured the worst and feared the unimaginable. Extreme stomach cramping to me, meant I was about to find out I was in fact having an early miscarriage. 

I tried to hold out hope, but my logical mind prepared me for hearing what I had dreaded.

My Internet searching spelt it out in plain text. I was going to be told that I was NOT pregnant, but was, in fact having a miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy.

I was angry every time I read the word “early” in front of “miscarriage”, it seemed like the writer was trying to downplay the love I already had for the potential baby within me. The truth is, any woman who is trying for a child, already loves that child, there is no early miscarriage, no thought that if you lose a baby in a certain time frame it will be less heartbreaking.

A mothers love is fierce, and it originates with the longing for a child.

I couldn’t believe it when my ER visit determined that I was pregnant. 

The doctor said the word “pregnant” and I almost collapsed. 

I had been expectant for the best but had feared the worst. I planned to be there alone, so that my husband wouldn’t see me endure the pain I had expected to feel. Instead, I sat there completely flabbergasted before I came to my senses and  ran out of that room, happier than I have ever felt!

In the days to come I used many magic-pee-sticks and NONE of them told me what I had wanted to verify. 

All of them read a big fat “Negative”. 

I convinced myself with each trip to the bathroom that I had to have gotten a “botched” test. I told myself the dozen tests or so that I took, were actually wrong and the one the doctor had taken was in fact right.

I spent the next six weeks doubting, questioning, researching and crying.

The day my family doctor sent me for an ultrasound, I felt like I needed a tranquilizer. I was distraught, and again, I was doing it on my own. I was convinced the technician would tell me there was nothing there, since my weekly blood tests proved that my hormones were not doubling like expected. 

I thought back to what should have been my seven week ultrasound, when the ultrasound should have seen something….but the technician had seen nothing.

 My doctor had then given me the option of a D&C. They had explanined that nothing was showing on the ultrasound and that I could have a D&C to clear my uterus and to start again….

 Though I knew they had seen “nothing”, my heart told me to wait…

I was on the verge of tears again, for my second ultrasound. 

I knew if I let one tear slip I would be forced to deal with a torrential down pour of tears….

I laid on the ultrasound bed and felt the wand turn and roll over my flat stomach. I couldn’t help but reminisce over the last ultrasound, when I had been told the heart breaking news that there was “nothing there”...

I had repeated those words a million times over in my mind since and figured they were about to be repeated….

I waited…

The tech smiled calmly at me and asked how my day was…I didn’t want to tell her that I had been so upset that I had been so close to tears (or screaming) all morning long…

I waited some more…

The wand went over and over my skin.

Finally, with a turn of the screen and a smile creeping across her face, the technician pointed to a small white pulsating mark on the screen.

“The heart beat.”

I about died.

Right there.

No lie.

“You are kidding??!!!” I screamed.

“Nope.” She said, “We dont joke about things like that around here.”  

She smiled widely at me and continued to point out the babies legs and arms and the heart. 

The blessed heart!!

It beat and moved and jumped from black to white to white to black and I felt like my own heart would jump out of my chest at any minute.

She carried on, showing me the moving parts, with a happy smile on her face and an inflection in her voice. 

All the while my hand moved from covering my mouth in awe, to clutching my heart in disbelief.

I don’t remember leaving that darkened room. 

Apparently I called my mother and my husband and described my complete uber happiness. Apparently I cried in the technicians bathroom until a man knocked on the door to ask if I was ok. Bless his heart.

The next few days are a little more clear, but not so much. 

I rejoiced with my husband but the realist in me didn’t get too excited in his presence. When my clothing finally grew more snug, by the day, I began feeling my heart beat a little quicker with excitement. 

At that point I was already twelve weeks pregnant.

Three months.

Three months?!

I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face after that!

That meant in six months I could potentially be holding a baby in my arms.

That fact didn’t go unnoticed, as we slowly revealed our happy news to our friends and family. 

I became even more protective over my swelling belly after those first few months that were had been filled with fear and the unknown. 

I ate better, acted better and found myself with my hands over my belly saying prayers and positive affirmations any chance I got.

The day I got rear ended on the highway, completely changed my happy little world…. right in its tracks.

Thankfully I walked away unharmed, merely exchanging phone numbers with the person that jolted my car and my life.

I touched my growing stomach more after that, I prayed more for the little baby growing safely with in me and I realized the actual fragility of life after that.

Two weeks later, on the exact same road, meters away from that accident, I got into my second car accident of all time, THIS time, getting hit directly in my drivers side door. I will save you the story (you can read more about what I shared HERE and HERE).

I couldn’t believe I was getting hit by another car twice in two weeks. I was in complete shock after inching my drivers side door open with all of my might, and stepping out on to the pavement…. ALIVE?! 

Is this a movie? Seriously, HOW does this happen to someone twice?? And almost in the same spot?!!

I did a lot of soul searching after that.

As much as I willed the whole incident to be a big bad dream, I went into labor that night, my sweet deeply desired baby…. was trying to come early, and before it was ready to.

That night I started four months of being bedridden. 

We had just told the ones we loved that we would be welcoming a baby, and then, in an instant, our dream was almost lost. 

Our doctor told us that without complete bed rest, this baby would come early and would not even be viable at this point.

I could hardly believe I had to tell my employers that I wouldn’t be coming back to work, I could hardly believe that me, being my strong self, wasn’t able to beat something with my strong will and desire.

Nope, you cant will a baby not to be born. Trust me, I tried.

I didnt know it yet, but I was about to endure five months of complete helplessness from that point forward.

Worst of all, it wasn’t about me and my will or the fact that I would be laying horizontal for a few months.

 It was all about the baby inside of me. 

The kicks and the turns had already established in my mind that this baby had a life before it. 

I could picture it.

 I didn’t care if the doctors said my baby was not viable….yet. 

I pictured my babies whole life; questioning that becoming a reality was heart and soul breaking.

There is always joy during the trials though….always.

Every day during those five months of bed rest and uncertainty, I began loving the baby within me deeper and stronger. I didnt think it was possible, but with every kick and with every movement I felt the bond between us grow.

 I could picture my unborn babies face and in an instant could be brought to tears. 

I was in love.

The days passed, the night dragged on, and with every passing date on the calendar I saw the movements within me grow stronger and I felt the love for my child growing deeper.

With every passing day I began to believe in the strength of my God and the strength of my child. 

With every day, we became closer to the end. To a healthy baby.

One month passed, then two, then three?!….and before I knew it, my doctor and I were setting new goals. 

“We just want to get you to 34 weeks Lovey….” my obstetrician said one cloudy Wednesday in early spring. 

I didn’t see a cloud after that day or feel the cold winds of Spring. 


I was lit up from the inside. 

I knew my baby was strong enough, I knew I held a miracle within me, and my prayers were going to be answered.

When we made it to 34 weeks and then 36 weeks and then 38 weeks I was full of gratitude and baby!!

I could barely waddle into the hospital and I could barely sleep at night but I was expectant with so much joy that I could barely believe we were going to have our long awaited child.

I literally felt like I had won the lottery! 

There is so much more to the story, but basically, that nine months of waiting and longing for my child was much needed for what we would have to endure in those first few months of our boys life. 

Those trials made my marriage stronger and my heart stronger and it made my relationship with God stronger then ever. In my weakness He made me strong. As my prayers went unanswered I was taught so much. I learned to trust more and  I learned to love deeper. 

The day our third baby was finally born, was the best day of my life. 

A baby that would look into my eyes and breathe for the first time in our world was all that I had prayed for. 

There were no requirements. I obviously prayed for a healthy baby, as does every mom on earth, but mostly I prayed for the tools to love the baby that was meant for our family. 

I learned to trust, to be patient, to listen, to be happy when I didn’t want to be, to be thankful and to love harder.

Someone bigger than me, knew the tools our family would need to raise the baby we were about to hold on to and never let go of.

Our boy, our third baby, Lucas, was born on May 15th, 2012 in the early hours of the morning. 

He has taught us all so much in one single year.

He is truly a piece of heaven; the happiest and easiest baby I have ever known. 

We understand each other and it has been nothing but joy to love him. His smile reaches deep down into my soul and his giggle brings me to tears. He is loving, funny and full of so much happiness, I cant believe so much life fits into a little one year old baby. 

I am so expectant and hopeful for his future. It is bright, like he is, I am sure of it. 

This baby that I begged God to spare. This miracle child. The one who completes me and our family. 

I wouldn’t trade him for the world. For two worlds! 

He is beautiful from his heart to the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He has taught so many, so much, it would take too long for one post to explain all the ways he pulls at heartstrings and makes others strive to be better. 

I cant imagine a day without him, or a second without him being in our family. This year has flown by, in a blur of happiness and laughter.  

He does that to us. His siblings adore him and he is the apple of his Daddy’s eye. He is our baby and our sweet heart. 

We all are beyond proud to have him as ours.

I cant believe we have spent a year loving him and having him love us back!! 

To the boy who is what fairy tales are made of, we love you ohhh so much. May you know today and always that you are loved deeper than the ocean and higher than the sky. May you continually to be blessed by Gods hand and led by His truths. May you always remember that you were prayed for, and loved, before you breathed, before we knew you and before you changed our lives for the better.

Happy first birthday to our walking miracle boy.

We love you to the moon and back.

~Mommy, Daddy and your brother and sister

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