The moments after our first ultrasound, before we knew that there were concerns about our babys health, we had a few moments of the bliss that you experience after finding out the gender of your child.  The dreams that form in your head, the visions of that little person in your family.  We are having a little boy!   I turned to look at Josh and said, “I hope he is just like you“… and I meant it with my whole heart.

The thing about my husband is that he is different.  His heart is so genuinely kind, and I am not just saying that as his biased wife.  He is so brave in his faith, that you can not be around him and not feel renewed in your own.  He has a gift of being the calm in any storm- he will look you in the eyes and say, “Don’t be afraid.  We are in good hands.  We will be okay.”  His heart has no room for fear.

As we sat in the waiting room on Monday anticipating the test results I was on the edge of an anxiety attack.  My palms were sweating and my eyes were locked on the door, waiting for news I both needed and wanted to run from.  He cupped his hands in front of me and said, “are you in good hands?”.  Yes.  Yes, I am.  Breathe….

Our news was obviously not good… our ride home was filled with tears, and silence.  There was simply not much to say.  Somewhere on that highway Josh choked out, “thats my little boy”.  The last little piece of my heart shattered.

Those words though.  Oh, those words.  In four words I could see his whole heart, in the most pure way.  There was no where to hide and no anger peaking through.  A true testament of his faith and a reminder all over again of what I love about him most.  I don’t know many men that can love like that.  Don’t you see?  This little boy, flaws and all, is ours.  And he didn’t question this plan, he doesn’t wonder “why me?”.  We could use more love like that in this world.

I found comfort in those words, in that love.  I’m not entirely sure how heaven works, how this plan for our lives is set in motion.  And of course, we don’t know for certain how much time, if any, we will get with our boy on this earth.  But I do know this.. he is my husbands son.  I can see him now, dark chocolate eyes and that damn widows peak.  Brave beyond words with a surreal calmness about him.  And that big, megawatt grin.  I can picture him saying to us, “I’ve been waiting for you”.  If our lives are predetermined, and our children are meant for us in a divine plan that we can’t see, I picture this boy- who of course would say, “God, I’ll do it.  Send me.  I’ll give up my time with them on Earth, because I know I have eternity.  It will be okay.  Give me this task.”  Of course he would.. because he is his father’s son, and that’s the kind of man he would be.

I can’t help but smile, and rest in that image.

(One of my favorite images of all time of Josh with Adelynn)

I woke up this morning desperately hoping that yesterday was just a dream.. that none of it had really happened.  But it had.

We were expecting our test results today, and were hoping it would just be a phone call.  All of my defenses were in place.  I had dinner and shopping planned with a friend for last night, and today my sister was set to arrive early to hang out and be here when my phone rang.  I was prepared in every way I could be.  I would be strong when the phone rang, I would be ready.

But then the call came yesterday.  Silly me, I should have learned by now that there are no defenses for that phone call.  On top of the call coming early, they did not want to share our results over the phone.. they needed us to come in.  Which of course was enough information to know that they certainly didn’t need us to drive to Fort Wayne to tell us that our little boy was perfectly healthy.  6 hours of anxiety followed.

Here we are, back in the sterile tissue box room.  The specialist walked in with a folder that held all of our answers.  We didn’t really need the folder, her face said it all.  “I’m sure you had a hunch that this news was not good…”

Our little boy tested positive for Trisomy 13. 

After asking every question I had prepared myself to ask if those were indeed the results, I needed out of that sterile room.  There was not enough air for my empty lungs.  I couldn’t take one more pregnant belly walking past me, hand in hand with their partner, smiling.  The physical pain that filled my heart and is still today residing there was as real as the results on that paper.  I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe…

This is so hard to even type out, and quite honestly I don’t have many words at the moment.  All I know it this, love gives you a crazy kind of brave.  In this very moment, we are trying to catch our breath.  We are trying to find our feet.  We are trying to soak up and celebrate this pregnancy because as painful as this is, it may be our only opportunity to know our little boy in this life.  Tomorrow is not promised, so we are thankful for today.  Our faith and hope is not shaken, this boy is here for a reason.  A reason we may never understand, but whatever it is, God trusted us with this fragile life.  We are thankful for every kick, every roll.  Tell us who you are, sweet boy.  We are listening.