I knew there would be late nights and early mornings, ear infections, scrapes and bruises and poopy diapers. I knew there would be middle school angst, relationship drama and many firsts.
When my husband and I went for the 20-week ultrasound, I was holding on to what I thought I knew and waiting to hear—boy or girl? A boy? YES!! With half of a developed heart… Wait. What?
In that moment, I didn’t know… A WHOLE LOT.
I didn’t know our son’s smile would mean so much. I didn’t know I would bang my car steering wheel and cry out to the Lord for Strength and Peace. I didn’t know that we would have to be content with holding our son’s hand when we couldn’t cradle him in our arms; that we would watch him fight the nurses during a PICC dressing change; that I would cheer so loudly for a successful extubation; that we would get up overnight to tube feed him, that we would see blood in his stool; that we would watch him crash to ECMO.
I also didn’t know that I would ever feel so much Hope. And with every passing day over the past eight years, I am reminded daily of that Hope. I see Hope as our son learns to play hockey, makes a two-point shot in basketball, plays aggressive defense on the soccer field, and runs the bases in baseball. I hear Hope when he reads chapter books to me. I marvel at Hope when he asks for a cheeseburger. I observe Hope as he builds 1,000-piece Lego sets. I experience Hope when we ride rollers coasters together. I feel Hope when our son wraps his arms around me and tells me, "I love you, Mommy. I will never stop loving you."
I still don’t know A WHOLE LOT, but I am forever changed by what I have experienced as a mother. I anticipate that the connection I feel to our two little boys will continue to mold me and craft me and teach me… and most definitely ground me in Hope. #chdawareness