Big Love and Little Miracles

February 2018: We took a Valentine's trip to Vegas and two weeks later learned Douglas baby number three was on the way! Always knowing we both wanted at least three kids but with an eleven month old in arms the timing was a touch sooner than anticipated. I was whole-heartedly convinced baby three (and what was sure to be our last) was a girl. So sure, that I prematurely spelled out ‘MILA’ on an announcement board while we waited for test results to confirm. Couldn't help but giggle when we unfolded that piece of paper and those big bold letters read 'B O Y!' Another darling momma’s boy to sandwich our only princess in the middle - it was perfect and we were thrilled.

Despite all of my excitement, I stood in the shower that evening full of varying emotions. I couldn’t shake the name Mila. A name He put on my heart the minute I learned I was expecting. I didn’t know the name meaning, it wasn’t a family name, I had no prior associations - I just knew that I was heavily drawn to it. I wasn’t the least bit sad yet tears steadily trickled down. My heart kept telling me that I was supposed to have a Mila - I was so sure - but my head kept reasoning that baby number three will be our last, so a Mila just wasn’t meant to be.

November 2018: There was a newborn in my arms when Tommy walked through the door after a urology consult with prescription in hand for a vasectomy scheduled the following week. This wasn’t a surprise to me, I knew three was his number and I was over the moon with our little family. It only took half an hour of absorbing that reality before I had tear stained cheeks and I couldn’t make them make sense. All I could offer was that I hadn’t turned thirty yet and was in the thick of postpartum hormones with a side of sleep deprivation. I needed him to wait. I needed to stabilize myself and level off enough to ensure I never felt any resentment towards him over such a final decision.

2019 was a really sweet year when we built a house, settled in, found our groove as a family of five and I soaked up every bit of that baby I knew was my last!

Then the storm of 2020 rolled in and I had no idea how much I was about to weather.

Thanks to a substantial ovarian cyst my left ovary was removed that early March. The implications of reduced fertility were discussed with me prior to surgery and well understood. Though it felt like a tiny gut punch, I knew it was just another push in the direction of closing my chapter on child-bearing years. April and May came along with a new diagnosis of the condition called Barrett’s esophagus. (carrying all those big babies pushing my stomach into my throat may be to blame for this one ;) )

Summer brought about some much needed fresh air before bridging into big changes that tagged along with fall. We made decisions to homeschool our oldest and I went back to teaching preschool part-time. We stayed busy and grateful for manageable health in a really weird year. My 32nd birthday fell on Thanksgiving day and even though I was six days post-op (of yet another less than glamorous but necessary surgery), we made our house hopping rounds to celebrate with family. On our way home that night a Jeep traveling at high speed ran a red light and struck our Tahoe. I could fill countless pages of all that unfolded in the aftermath of the accident, but it was me sustaining a traumatic brain injury that took precedence.

The beginning of 2021 felt like the cruelest of jokes

hanging on to the tail end of 2020. Covid sickness and a southern winter storm that iced me out of Mississippi away from my babies for ten days was the cherry on top of the trauma platter I had just been served. The post concussion syndrome coupled with a heavy dose of PTSD was suffocating me.

My crisis management skills in motherhood had dwindled. I was blanketed in a cloud of daily amnesia and anxiety. My hands trembled any time I put myself or my children in a vehicle. I couldn’t juggle kid chaos or multi-task like I did before. I lived in a constant state of panic, so I spent the next few months trying to catch my breath with the daily prayer that He’d put me back together in a recognizable way.

Fostering a continual spirit of gratitude to keep my attitude humble and clinging to the mercy of God, life slowly began to resemble a sense of normalcy for me. Taking deeper breaths in an attempt to let go of the fear that my world would crumble at any moment. The knowledge of the abundantly blessed life I was living and all of the “could-have beens” kept my perspective grounded. I knew it was nearing time to move forward and step into the next season of life as a family. We started talking about finally rescheduling that appointment for Tommy and I began sorting through baby items to donate or keep for my sister some day.

We took a beach trip over Memorial Day weekend and it was the first time I had felt a little more like ‘me’ since before the accident. Residual headaches were still very prevalent and I blamed the abundance of nausea that week on all the extra sunshine and adult beverages I hadn’t enjoyed in months. Pairing those symptoms and noting some fuller looking body parts of mine, Tommy suggested in jest that I must be pregnant. With a roll of my eyes I brushed him off blaming it on my lack of macro tracking. My sister-in-law questioned the same possibility but I assured her that I was pretty good at natural family planning and there was no way. After the trip Tommy unloaded the suburban upon our arrival home and I pulled down a tucked away test to put that crazy talk to bed.

Two. Pink. Lines.

Stunned. I had always dreamt of four kids but this time felt terrifying. I didn’t feel ready. I had just started to climb out of the deepest valley I had ever walked. My confidence was shaken.

Would I be enough?

Could I juggle one more?

How will I protect another from such a dark cruel world?

Would this baby be healthy?

Satan stopped at nothing to fill my head with lies and steal my joy. All I knew to do was to cling to the cross. Holding 1 John 4:18 close to my heart every day for 9 months.

'Perfect love casts out fear' - but still I wrestled with so. much. fear.

A growth scan at my 38 week appointment showed a baby presenting sunny-side up with prenatal hydronephrosis, a kidney condition more common in males. My OB did everything she could to convince me it was all going to be okay - but the enemy was waiting for me in that parking lot… ready to monopolize on all my concerns over these findings. Already four centimeters dilated, I sat in my truck researching the condition, preparing for a potentially difficult delivery, fretting over not having a baby boy name (for a baby that would arrive any given minute) and pouring buckets of tears as I let fear swallow me whole.

Less than 48 hours later I was on the delivery table trying to talk myself down from a panic attack. Knowing our world was about to be forever changed and praying for all necessary provisions. At 12:15pm an 8 pound 5 ounce baby girl was placed in my arms and a supernatural peace poured over me.

The room heard her cries and I heard heaven whisper:

'Mila, she's here - always meant for you'

Mila - derived from the Spanish word milagros - means miracles. I knew in February of 2018 Mila was already written in my story. He placed her name on my heart all those years ago but only He knew when I would need her. Four years later, February of 2022, He used her to piece me back together in the most beautiful way. A sequence of a million little miracles now bundled in a bow.

Her first breath deepened mine. My ability to articulate the magnitude of that moment fails me but it turned my world right side up again. The stronghold of panic instantly turned to praise. The prayer of once again recognizing myself - finally answered.

Momma is all I’ve ever desired to be. I’ve never needed or been closer to the Lord than I have in the sanctifying work of motherhood. Motherhood feels like home. It's the sweetest gift living an earthly glimpse of the kind of love He has for me. Bringing new life into this world has anchored me in Him each time. Reminding me of the truth that I should worry no more about being enough for her (for them) - because He is. Now, forever and always - He's enough. I need only to point them to Him.

He carried me through that valley and He surely knew that sacred moment of holding something so fresh from heaven would gently place my feet back on solid ground.

{Oh, and that kidney thing .... no where to be found on her ultrasound the morning after delivery.}

We celebrate Mila Mae's first birthday this week! 365 days of loving on the most precious wonder. I'll never get over cradling such a picture perfect testament of His faithfulness. I'd live every single one of those days over again to be where I am now. She's the brightest little light after the darkest season and I still can't believe I get to tell her story.

Happy birthday baby girl, you are so loved!