Giving thanks for answered prayers

I haven't written yet about our baby, Nicholas.

I have shared a little bit about the pain of losing a baby during pregnancy, and I would like to reach out to people facing those same struggles. During the year before I became pregnant with Nicholas, seeing someone (even someone I loved) pregnant, or with a baby, would fill my heart with joy, but also with pain. I ached for the children I'd lost, and with the uncertainty of whether we would ever have more.

So many people ache with the pain of lost babies, lost children, children whose lives contain struggles they never could have imagined, and children they have not been able to conceive.  Some of these people are friends so very dear to my heart.
 

It almost seemed like too much to ask to find myself praying for a fifth – fifth! – child, but there I was. Was it God's desire or merely mine that saw that although we were stretched, there was still room, and plenty of love, for another life? I was no longer sure. I did not want to replace Benedict (who we lost at 21 weeks gestation) -- I couldn't.  But my children's hearts hurt for the brother they never got to see, and I wanted them to experience the joy of holding another sibling in their arms.  I, too, longed for that joy.

Before God answered that prayer, though, He answered another one.   Shortly after the one-year anniversary of our son Benedict's death, I found my heart filled with peace toward whatever God's plan was for our family.  God gave me the grace to hand over to Him all of my heartbreak, and uncertainty, and to desire His will above all else.

It's one of those mysterious ways in which God works that, very shortly thereafter, we discovered I was pregnant.  I do not think it was an accident that God waited for me to find peace in the belief that such a gift may never have happened before granting it.  So much healing, and so much joy, has come from Nicholas' life, but first God asked us to surrender to His will.  I think that surrender, even more than my pregnancy, was the key that would have brought healing into whatever form our lives took from that point forward. Once we recognize that we are in His hands, and we yield to being used in whatever way He desires, how can anything but beauty flow forth?

I think I hesitate to write about Nicholas because, with him, God has poured so much abundant love into our lives. He is such a gift, and yet I know many people still carry the pain of desiring a similar gift, and I would not ever want to add to that hurt in any way.

But to share God's goodness, this extreme mercy He has extended to my family, I must share about Nicholas. Perhaps hearing his story can provide hope – because although not every story of heartbreak will end with a healthy child, I believe God wants to bring this same overabundance of grace into each of our lives.

I want to share, not just my struggles, but also my joys. To remember His kindness!

Because yesterday, although morning came early, it brought me tears of gratitude, because I woke up to...

... little hands, grabbing in the dark for my hair, my nose, his toes, whatever he could reach.

...sputtering noises, little raspberries just like his 6-year-old sister has been making in his face all week.

...knees that want to lock in place whenever you want them to bend and sit. He's just six-months-old, but is starting to think he should walk.

...skin that is so soft there may not be words to describe it. 

...a solid little body that he has begun launching forward in order to reach things. Toys, paper, laundry, shoes – he doesn't care, and he wants it all in his mouth.

...a smile that says, “We'll see what adventure this brings!” when he's carted off in the arms of a sibling.

Kate and Nicholas

...that knowing smile – “You love me!” – when he catches my eye. That look of uncertainty when he's placed in a stranger's arms.

...deep-bellied baby laughs.

...sticky, sweet potato smiles.

..his brown-haired mohawk that gets smaller with each passing week.

 

...a round little bottom that bounces in the air as he sits, poised on all fours, trying to figure out how to crawl.

...a baby boy who loves to play with spoons and measuring cups. I know they will start disappearing. I know I will wonder why I ever let him play with them (just like I did with my other children). But really, I don't care. Let him play.

...a baby boy who lights up when he sees his biggest sister. After we attended the mother-daughter talk last week, and Meghan took him into her arms, all squirmy and happy, I just knew here was someone she will never doubt loves her and finds her everything she needs to be!

In her blog, Sally Clarkson has spoken about what it was like to have her youngest daughter, Joy, after miscarriages, and after wondering if she would ever have another child.

As she looked at Joy before she left for college, Sally wondered, “What does it feel like to know you are an answered prayer?”

That is what I wonder about for Nicholas.

Each of my children is the answer to a hope and a prayer in my heart.  But the gift of Nicholas' life can be nothing else but the answer to a specific prayer: suffered for, hoped for, pleaded for through many tears.

How does it feel to be an answered prayer?

All I know is, it feels wonderful to have one!

My boys: Brendan, Nicholas, and Luke.

"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing; thou hast loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, that my soul may praise thee and not be silent." -Ps. 30:11-12