"What is the most important thing that has ever happened to you in the month of May (of any year)?"
The most important thing that ever happened to me in the month of May was a very special event in my life. Heavenly Father gave me a miracle. He gave me my second son.
I call him my miracle baby because I had begun to believe that I would never have anymore children. I had a son and a daughter and, although I prayed for another baby, it wasn't happening. We had never had fertility issues before.
I started having feelings that I had only ever had when I was pregnant. I couldn't go by the usual suspect symptoms because my hormones were really freaked out back then, but I was positive that I was pregnant. I could feel movement inside me and I was dreaming of baby girls. The tests all came back negative, then in July 1993, I delivered my baby girl at twenty weeks gestation, stillborn. I took that as a big NO from Heavenly Father, that I had been too demanding in my desire for another baby, and the answer was a resounding NO!
However, a NO wasn't enough to keep me from wanting another baby. I was wracked with grief, and now I had to play catchup because I had no new baby even though I had been pregnant. Heavenly Father had mercy on my grieving heart and I found that I was expecting again, less than two months after the death of my daughter Dorian.
I was happy and terrified at the same time. I had always heard that a loss increased the chances of another loss and increased the chances of a premature birth. I think that I spent that entire pregnancy in frantic prayer that this new baby would be OK, that I would have a sweet little baby to come home from the hospital with me and I could be happy again.
The delivery of my son was one of the most traumatic that I had ever experienced, including the stillbirth of my Dorian. I was in an emotional war, wanting to have a baby in my arms, but not wanting to release him from my body. I saw that release as a loss and was in emotional turmoil. I couldn't face another loss. His head was born at least twenty times. I would push, and it would pop out, and I would stop pushing and back inside he went.
Finally, I could not fight nature any longer. I didn't have the strength and I had already torn in ways and places that I had never experienced before. But, my son was born. He was healthy and strong, though a bit cone-headed. He was, and still is, my miracle baby. They all are in reality, but he is the one that showed me how much mercy a loving Father could have for His children.
So to my miracle baby on this day before he was born, I want to wish a lifetime of blessings and miracles of his own, and a very happy 17th birthday.
I love you, son.
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