For sixteen weeks I was the mother of a baby boy.

I didn't think I would ever have another son. Five daughters have followed my first born son 21 years ago.

When I realized I was pregnant this past summer I wasn't thankful for the new life given to me to love. I didn't receive the blessing.  I didn't hasten to remember that I was blessed to have a womb that produced gifts from the Lord. I didn't  hold onto the Word and all that it said in regards to the rewards these new lives bring nor how blessed a man is to have his quiver full of them.

I didn't go to the Lord with my worries and stay at His feet until His peace and truth renewed me. Instead I fretted, complained and worried.

I Worried about being overweight and unattractive to my husband. Worried that another baby would exacerbate the difficulties we face as a family. Difficulties that besot most families. Nothing special or unique. Just life.

To challenge me even more I  suffered  terrible morning sickness. The kind that last all day with no relief from one day to the next. The kind that last for four full months before you feel human again.

As I came up to my sixteen week mark I began to feel better. Enough so that I began to feel excited about the baby and looked forward to being a mom of seven come spring.  But the joy I was just beginning to feel would be short lived.

 I had an appointment at the Drs. office for a routine prenatal check. My third daughter decided she wanted to tag along  in order to hear the baby's heartbeat like her other two teen sisters had already done at previous appointments. They have learned so much by being involved in my pregnancies. They will know what to expect when a life begins to grow within them as young wives starting  families of their own.

Just before my daughter and I were about to leave for the Drs. all my kids presented me with an early birthday present which was a few days away. They wanted me to take  time after the appointment to get myself some maternity clothes to accomodate my expanding tummy.

It was just a normal day. We rushed to get thru traffic and find a parking place with the hope I'd be on time for a change.

We laughed together and talked about the baby and mom and daughter stuff as we made our way thru the parking garage and into the hospital where the Drs. office was.

We talked about how thankful I was to be feeling myself again. We talked about what I would buy wih my gift card. We talked about why you have to pee in a cup at every prenatal appointment. She thought it was disgusting and I found her disgust amusing knowing one day it would be her. I told her about my last ultrasound and how cute the baby was during the scan. It was looking up and down, over and over again, relishing in a new talent and showing it's cute chin off to me. That memory is carved into my heart.

I was called  into the examining room and my daughter made herself comfortable in a chair next to the exam table where I was laying  while waiting for the Dr. to come and ask the routine questions and listen to the baby's heartbeat.

It was just a regular day. Everything had been fine. All my appointments and ultrasounds had shown a strong and healthy baby.  But this day when the Dr. came in to listen to the heartbeat there wasn't one.

She assured me the baby was probably just tucked away somewhere and she would pick it up on an ultrasound machine. Fear gripped me while I waited for the scan.  What I saw  when the doctor picked the baby up on the monitor tore my heart in two. My baby's chin was no longer moving up and down but lying motionless on it's chest. It's heartbeat had stopped. All was still.

Tears streamed down my face and I wanted to cry out to the Lord and say not again Lord. Please God, make it all right. I want my baby.

Thru the tears I saw my daughter. I saw her pain and uncertainty of how to help me, how to make things right. She fought back tears.

I was sent home to tell my husband and to prepare to go to the hospital the following day.

 My husband was napping when I came in. He turned and saw my face and new something was wrong. He held out his arms to me. I fell into them, and onto him. I cried into his neck and told him our baby had died. His body went limp for a mere moment, and then he strengthened his hold on me and held me for a very long time. He let me cry and waited until I was able to tell him about the appointment and what would take place over the next few days.

In the hospital I was given drugs to induce labor. I delivered the baby into my hands while sitting on the bathroom floor of my hospital room. I knew right away it was a boy. I was amazed about that and how perfect he was. Just tiny. His body was that of his dad's and sister Bella. Broad shoulders, long legs and big hands.

I wanted so bad for God to make things all right.  I didn't want to let him go. I  cried for days. I  felt cheated. I wanted my son.

In all that pain I realized how petty I had been in my worry's and how I had taken for granted the miracle and blessings of a fruitful womb.

I learned my lesson. Children are a blessing from the Lord, no matter what the circumstance. I will never again complain about morning sickness or weight gain due to pregnancy. I will never again wish I wasn't pregnant.

If the Lord ever see's fit to allow me to be gifted with another child I will celebrate and thank God for the life he has intrusted me with.

This lesson was a costly one and a painful one. One I'll not repeat.

God's Word does not change for circumstances. It stands for all people, and all times and in all situations.

Lo, children are a heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.

Psalms 127:3

It took pain and loss for me to not take this for granted.