Miracles In Tiny Form

My firstborn son just turned fifteen. Wow! FIFTEEN! My Mother-in-law told me that the aliens come and take them away somewhere around twelve, and you're left with this creature you don't recognize. I remember the day that happened! Suddenly he was two inches taller, his feet smelled funny and he had two hairs in his armpit!

I remember the day he was born. He was so tiny, only 5lbs 14oz. Such a beautiful little bundle and I could not have been more excited.

I always wanted children, even from the time I was a small child myself. I was two and five when my brothers were born and I thought (or wished) they were mine. I even tried to get them to call me "Mom". I bossed them around when we were kids and parented them even more as we got older. They are still "mine". :o)

After extended illnesses as a child, my parents were told that I may never have children. When I was old enough to understand what that meant, I was devastated at the mere possibility. When I got married, my husband and I discussed it briefly but brushed it off. I was in denial. We were both young and healthy. Why wouldn't we be able to have a baby? It didn't happen right away, after all those times my Mother told me, "It only takes once!" LOL I started to get discouraged and sought the advice of my doctor. With timing, temperature and a few other hints... three months later I was pregnant! About ten minutes after that I was throwing up!! And it didn't stop for eight months.

My pregnancy was rough. I was horribly sick, dehydrated because of it, and my kidneys were shutting down. I spent a lot of time going back and forth to the hospital. I kept going into labor way too early and was ordered to bedrest. For anyone who knows me, you KNOW that was nearly impossible! Eventually I started to put on some weight and it was time for him to arrive! After three hours of labor and twenty minutes of pushing, I was holding my tiny miracle. 

As the months passed he thrived and grew. He was so smart, and of course, beautiful. He was the fattest little baby! He had rolls on his rolls and a bald little head. My friends affectionately called him Charlie Brown. We became best buddies. I was a stay-at-home Mom and loved spending all day with him. We played, colored, watched Teletubbies and sang. My Miracle was growing strong!

As the years went by, my heart ached for another baby. My life situation had changed, God had plans for me that I didn't have for myself and I wasn't sure that I would ever have anymore children. (A blog for another day, maybe.) When my oldest was five, the time was finally right again, and Jason and I decided to try for another child. Hope gave way to heartbreak as the months passed without result. I knew it was my fault. At the same time I was so angry at myself for ignoring the fact that God had already granted me ONE miracle child when I surely wasn't guaranteed any at all.

Again, I sought the advice of doctors. We ended up taking more extreme measures this time, fertility treatments, but to no avail. We talked about giving up, but we wanted another child so much! Then, finally, I was pregnant! We were so excited! We told everyone! We started preparing our oldest son and he spent some of his money to buy a book for the new baby. We purchased little things here and there, not wanting to get too much until we knew if we were having a boy or a girl. Secretly Jason and I both hoped for a girl, but our oldest desperately wanted a little brother.

I was working as a Camp Director for the YMCA that summer. The day had come to find out the gender of our baby. I was so excited I could barely stand it. I almost skipped work that day, but we had a field trip to the local movie theater and I needed to make sure everything went as planned. We got to the theater and another group was also there to watch the movie. It was a group of disabled children from a local facility. Their disabilities ranged from mild to extremely severe. I watched as their staff and caregivers brought them in, my hand on my growing belly. Immediately it didn't matter if I was having a boy or a girl, I simply asked God to let me have a healthy baby. I didn't know if I was strong enough to care for a child with special needs. I sat in the theater and cried in the dark.

When I got to my doctor's office, Jason was waiting in the parking lot. We hurried upstairs to the waiting room and checked in. Once inside the exam room we watched the minutes tick by on the clock until the doctor came in. FINALLY! Then he mumbled something, then something else, and then all I heard was, "no heartbeat" and a few other mumbles. I just laid there. I don't know what happened next. I don't remember. The next thing I do remember was getting off the elevator in the lobby. I turned to walk out, and getting in was a woman with a huge, pregnant belly. I lost it. I began crying hysterically and fell to the floor.

The next few days I asked a lot of questions. In my grief I thought back to that quiet prayer in the theater. I wondered if maybe there was something wrong with my baby so God took it away from me? Then I wished for it back. I wished for my baby back, wished I could take those awful words back. I felt horrible! People always try to say the "right" thing after a loss, to make you feel better. Several people said things like "maybe something was horribly wrong with the baby..." but that only made me feel more guilty for that selfish prayer. It took a lot for me to realize that God doesn't act like that.

Jason and I took a while to decide we were ready to try again. When we were ready, we went through the same trials as before; tests, shots, temperature, medicine, injections... well, I did all that. ;o) He went to the appointments with me. Month after month went by. No positive tests. Pretty soon it was transfer time, and we had to move, so we had to stop all the fertility stuff and pick up again with a new set of doctors at our new station. But that never happened. About two weeks after we moved I got that feeling... I'm pregnant. I took the test and WHAMMO! Positive! I called my best friend immediately!! Then I told Jason, but we were scared to tell anyone else.

Miraculously the rest of the pregnancy went perfectly! No morning sickness, no problems, nothing! We rented a fetal heart monitor so I could listen to the heartbeat everyday at home. It was wonderful. Morning, noon and night I listened to the glorious "thump-thumping" inside my belly. Again, we prayed for a healthy baby, and hoped for a girl. This time our oldest was on board. He actually wanted a baby sister! At our gender-telling appointment they gave the news- GIRL! We were thrilled!! We started buying pink everything!! A few months later I had a 3D ultrasound done and the tech looked right at my oldest and said, "Oh that is DEFINITELY a little brother!". We were all shocked to say the least! Once the shock wore off, we gave all the pink stuff to our neighbor who really WAS having a girl and we started buying blue.

A few months later, our second gorgeous baby boy joined us, weighing in at 6lbs 13oz. He had a head completely full of long dark hair, a stark contrast from his older, balder brother. The nurses quickly decided that his hair deemed him worthy of the nickname "Elvis"! Through the years he has proved to be an equal match for his brother's charm, cunning and intelligence! I'm sure he'll be a force to be reckoned with during his teens. ;o)

Now fifteen and seven, the boys are very close, despite such an age difference. Of course, the fight like all siblings do, but they share a very special bond. They are very good friends, and I can only hope that it continues into the rest of their lives. I thank God for them every day, in one way or another. On the good days I say, "Thank you, God, for these beautiful boys." On the not so good days I just thank God that I haven't given them away yet. ;o)