May 13, 2012 by CassieCravings
The room was hurried. Nurses scurried. Doctors checked. Family celebrated. But I sat still. I wanted to soak in every detail of the minute 6:33 PM on 12 March 2010, the moment I became a mother.
Elijah Myles was pink, wrinkly, wiggly and loud when he entered this world. And he was healthy. Praise God, he was healthy!
I held him all night. My arms ached. My husband snored softly on the bed beside me. The nurses chided me to get some sleep. I just smiled and shook my head. No way. No way could I sleep. He’s here! He’s finally in my arms. I can kiss his toes and count the hairs on his nearly bald head. I can look into those deep blue baby eyes. There’s no way I could sleep. I spent the night counting his fingers and toes and analyzing his features to whether they were an Ortiz or a Williams trait. For staring at a baby all night, the hours passed so quickly. I frowned at Time for speeding up now that he was finally here.
Finally here. I tried to count the months and even the years that it took for our family to at this point. It seemed like forever. But it could have only been 3 years, maybe even a few months shy of that mark. Without knowing the specifics in time, I knew the exact moment. It was the moment when I prayed for a family.
I prayed for a baby every day since that prayer, many times multiple times a day. Sometimes I prayed patiently. Other times in frustration and many times in tears. I prayed persistently and with faith.
I knew God had a plan.
More than a year passed. I celebrated the pregnancies of dear friends, and I continued to wait. I can’t count how many times I read the story of Hannah and her patience as she waited to have her son Samuel.
There were doctor’s visits and lab work, but medically everything seemed great. That was good news, I suspected. Perhaps it was just a timing thing.
I knew God had a plan.
More than year had passed, but it was so worth it. I beamed! I knew everyone must know. I was sure I was terrible at hiding my secret. But I quietly planned how to tell my family. I quietly made doctor’s appointments. Finally! I was going to have a baby!
As full as my heart was during those weeks, it was just as broken the day I lost the baby. I ached for that child. I was physically ill over our loss. I tried to have faith. I tried to be patient.
A few months later brought a second pregnancy. It also brought a second heart break.
I wondered if God had a plan.
I never stopped praying. I needed God more than ever. I didn’t know a heart could hurt this badly and still live. “Please don’t forget me,” I would whisper to God.
Time continued to pass despite how I felt. I clung to God and to His peace and patience.
19 July 2009. I stood in my bathroom, as I had countless times, and peered at a pregnancy test. A faint, pink positive peeked through.
I felt faint. I snatched my phone and shakily dialed my brother’s number. “There’s 2 lines,” I choked out. “To what, Dude?,” he yawned. It took a moment of sputtering and crying, but I finally got him to get it. There was silence and then “Hold on.” I heard footsteps and the door to his office close. When the surroundings were secure, we both whooped and hollered.
“It’s going to be okay this time,” he said. I am so thankful for brothers that will love you through the worst situations and through how you act in the worst situations.
Secrecy was sworn, and I was off to plan the big announcement to my husband, my friends and my family. I was so quiet about the first 2 pregnancies, but I wanted to be sure to celebrate this baby. I wanted to the world to know, and I wanted them to know now.
Weeks continued to tick by. Thanksgiving brought the news that our little baby was going to be an Elijah and not an Ellie (as I had suspected him to be).
God had a plan.
Baby clothes were bought at an alarming rate. My mother and I giggled and dreamed. My husband bought baseball shoes and even a small tee and bat.
At 31 weeks, I began to complain about some pain. The pains were pretty frequent. I chalked it up to being excited and over-exerted about our move to a new place. As I wobbled and bossed about what goes where. The pain continued. Then I fell. It wasn’t a hard fall, but I did tumble very ungracefully over drawers laid out to be put in the dresser. I fell and Eli quit moving.
We were soon at the hospital. I was in pre-term labor. There were tests, shots, IVs and a lot of prayer.
I spent 6 weeks on bed rest at home. The day I hit 37 weeks, I went into active labor. Nearly 7 hours later, I held my baby boy in my arms. He was here. He was healthy.
For me, Mother’s Day is a moment to remember 3 babies that I lost. I also miscarried a child this fall. In fact, I would have been at full term right now. I ache for them. I cry for them frequently. This morning, as I snuggled with Eli, I asked God to give my 3 angel babies an extra hug. “Tell them I love them. Tell them I will never forget them. Tell them they would be so proud of their brother Eli.”
Mother’s Day is a moment to celebrate my precious son. What a joy I have in raising him! He is smart, funny, handsome and loving. I am so proud of him. I am so proud of the boy he is growing to be.
God has a plan. I cannot wait to see how it unfolds for our family.
I am a mama who has lost. I am a mama who has been blessed. I am grateful for what I have learned through both.
Happy Mother’s Day to those that already hold their children, hold them in her bellies or are holding them in their hearts. Be blessed.