Sweet blessings

Today last year, it was pouring rain. D had yet ANOTHER follow up appt for his foot surgery turned three foot surgeries. I was still driving him to and from work. He had a picc line with IV antibiotics.

 After working all day, we had to go to the Big City to see his doctor. Then drive home in rush hour traffic. Headed straight home to get the next dose of medicine hooked up. 

The rain was actually letting up. We were a mile from our exit. And the wheel flew out of my hands. We flew towards a concrete wall. Crash. Fly. Crash. Cry. 

How could this be? This life inside me just underwent two major impacts. He couldn't survive that. His movement wasn't consistent yet. Oh how I wished he would move! I killed my baby. The baby we waited so long for. 

I called 911 as I scrambled up a muddy embankment to see where we were. The words wouldn't come out. I couldn't tell them where we were. All I could say was that I was pregnant and needed to get checked, through streaming tears. 

The ambulance came quickly. I shook and shook as I lay on the gurney. I don't want him to be dead. What will I do? 

It took so long to get to the ER. The roads were still wet. It wasn't a true emergency, so we were driving at a crawling pace. 

They brought me right back to a room and mercifully brought a Doppler. It was hard for them to find his heartbeat. The ER doesn't do it every day. Two nurses worked together. My breath was frozen. I remember it like it was yesterday. 

Shop-shop-shop-shop. A heartbeat pounded. 

I hated the Doppler already, from my bleeding scare. I wasn't convinced it was his hesrtbeat. I knew his should be in the mid 100s. I was so worked up that I was worried they were capturing mine and thinking it was his. 

And now 365 days have passed. 

It was sunny and 70. 

Baby boy and I sat outside in the grass. He's been clingy today. He crawled into my lap. I picked a dandelion for him and he shook it until all the fluff was gone. 

A billowing piece drifted by us. He reached his chubby hands out to grab it. 

Thank you God. Thank you for seeing it fit for him to make it to this world. For allowing me to be his mom. Out of all time and all the people in the world, he's mine. We sit on the ground of this three quarter acre lot with green grass, sun, blue skies and a breeze. We're not hungry. We're not scared. We're not sick. We're experiencing the very sweetest blessings God can give. 

Now. I choose Now.

I never fully believed stuff like this, back Then. Sure, it sounded good. 

But Now... Now I know how true it is. 

The path takes you where you were always meant to be. 

In this moment tonight. Rocking baby boy. He's just finished a bottle after waking up crying. He shouldn't be hungry yet, but he spent all evening crawling and pulling up and smiling a gummy grin of pride. So that left no time for much milk. 

So I hold his 21 pound, solid frame firmly in my arms. Like I've said before, he just fits. 

As he sucks the last few drops of his bottle, his eyes close. His head twitches and nods back and forth, cradled in the crook of my arm. He's got one hand by his face and the other casually folded behind his head. He's taking slow, deep breaths. He's 7 months, wearing 12 month pjs, and his tone little belly sticks out between the shirt and pants. 

His head nods and twitches some more. His hair is getting lighter. And thicker. It sticks up more on the left side than the right, no matter what I do to it. His skin is soft. His lips are perfectly rounded and at rest. Until he starts "sucking his fake paci". 

If I had him Then, would I notice each detail? Would I appreciate him as much? I'm certain the answer is "NO"! 

If things happened the way I hoped so many times, I wouldn't be here. Now. 

I wouldn't cherish and savor each day with him. The way I am tonight. The way I have done each day since the day in early August when I first saw his little face. 

I wouldn't have endured the amount of pain I did, that widdled me to my very core. That revealed my anxiety disorder. I would be a neurotic, impatient, frustrated mom were I made a mom Then. I'm treated Now. I feel like I can handle anything. 

I wouldn't have the relationships I have Now. My sisters in embryo adoption. Fellow recipients. My son's special genetic mom. (And genetic extended family- he's not an only child after all). 

I hated waiting. I hated the suffering. The sacrifice. The running on a hampster wheel that never seemed to result in anything positive. 

I'm here Now. I'm where I'm supposed to be. 

Another Visit

I'm eager. 

Asher's genetic mom is going to be in our area for a conference. So she's visiting. And she's staying with us! 

It's like anticipating a visit from a friend. I'm excited to see her and catch up in person. I'm excited for her to see how much baby boy has changed in only 1.5 months since she last saw him. 

I never would have guessed at the end of the long road to my child would be a friend and almost like a sister at the end, too. 

Seasons

It's a new season. 

The cold, hard ground gives way for new beauty. 

Change is in the air. 

I step outside my new home. Tulips are blooming. I put baby boy into his carseat. 

I don't want to jinx myself, but I'm living my life! The life I hoped for. 

I dress a squirmy baby. I watch him learn to open and close his hand (deeply fascinating for a developing mind). He says "mama". 

It's a new season. It's my season! 

Here

We're still here. 

We're settled into a new house. And baby boy has been sleep trained. So life is getting more normal and I've got my wits about me with rest and new routines. 

Expect more posts soon. I've got a lot on my heart!