Happy Birthday My Little Miracle
Today, as many replayed their 9/11 stories and emotions, I was a mixed bag.
Of course, 10 years ago, I remember where I was, what I was doing, even who I was with. I remember how perfectly blue the sky was that day. I remember that afternoon how strange it was that there wasn’t a single plane flying in the sky. I remember how much I cried and how much my heart ached watching the news coverage. All those people. Broken families. The lives of all Americans changed forever.
3 years ago, I was blessed with a son on 9/11 and it has changed what was a day of bitterness and sadness into one of celebration. He is living proof that miracles do exist.
In October of 2005, about to marry the love of my life, I went off birth control. We wanted to start a family immediately. We were pregnant within 5 months and filled with so much excitement and hope for our future. Those hopes were quickly dashed by an early miscarriage followed by two and a half years of unexplained infertility. We continued to keep trying but started to consider that we may not ever have children. Started making other plans. Where should we travel? What should we do? What can we do to continue making this life exciting? In January 2008, as usual, I was taking a slew of way too early pregnancy tests and my cheapos looked as though 2nd lines were starting to show up. Darker and darker the lines got. Could this be for real? It was. For the next 12 weeks, I would be on the edge of hope and fear. Please stick bean. STICK. The first time I saw and heard that heartbeat, I knew we were going to make it. I was finally getting the family I had only dreamed about.
My son. He showed up 3 weeks early, a 7 lb 7 oz bundle of screaming lungs, rocking my world in more ways than you can even imagine. 3 years later, he hasn’t stopped surprising us with his intellect, humor and heart. Just when I think I couldn’t love him more, I find myself overcome with emotion for him.
This year has been difficult. Knowing how advanced my endometriosis is not to mention being down one ovary has pretty much put a screeching halt to having another baby. My husband and I both agreed that we could not go through another miscarriage. We just couldn’t do it to ourselves, to a potential life, to our son. Over the last couple of weeks I have definitely mourned the loss of my fertility. All over again, I feel that same poke in the heart when I see a pregnant belly or a newborn baby. Sadness, when we feel like Jackson could use a sibling.
Even though I’ll never barf my guts out again for 25 weeks straight (oh yes… the morning sickness was relentless), never get to shop for cute maternity clothes or snuggle a newborn baby to sleep I will never forget and always be grateful that I got to experience it all.
Given my diagnosis (gee, it only took SIX YEARS to figure out that endo was the cause of all my infertility), we don’t know how we got pregnant with Jackson. There were no fertility drugs. No ART. Just love and an insane amount of luck. We don’t question it. We just thank God. Every day.
Happy 3rd Birthday to my sweet, amazing miracle. I couldn’t love anything more.