The McDonalds

It's Friday night. I worked today and missed my baby boy so much that I rocked him to sleep. That rarely happens around here. As I was sitting there with my sleeping lovey sweating on my shoulder, with praise and worship music playing, I couldn't help but cry. My boy is growing so fast. I am proud of him and he learns new things every day, and he is so smart and handsome and loving.

And then my heart began to ache for my other baby - the one I miscarried about a month ago. After trying since December 2010, months of fertility meds and dozens of negative pregnancy tests, we finally got pregnant - to miscarry at 5 weeks. It was devastating and I don't think I've really processed it, until this week. This was the week we were scheduled for our first ultrasound and official "beginning of pregnancy" doctors visit. And it hit me like a ton of bricks tonight.

I never thought infertility would happen to me. It was something that affected others and sure, it was sad, but I'd never face that.

It is something that has affected me in my deepest, heart of hearts. It makes you feel defective and like there's something you have done wrong. The enemy loves to twist it and use it against you. But you know what else it has done in me? It has forced me to rest on the Lord. I cannot in my own power have another child, Jackson himself is a miracle. I do not know, and may never know, why we have to face this mountain. But I do know that I am blessed. I have an incredibly supportive and caring husband who faces this with me, who holds me when I cry about it, and who doesn't belittle my feelings about it. I have a ridiculously intelligent and hilarious two year old that I love so much, and who melts my heart when he says, "mama I wov woo!" And I now have a precious one in heaven, and that makes heaven just a little bit more sweet.