Recently my third child turned one year old. This is my last baby due to circumstances beyond my control. This was my last first birthday. And that fact has made it the hardest first birthday for me to deal with.
I had my first child at 24. I prayed for my sweet boy. I wanted a baby to love and raise as my own. The Lord answered my request and poof! I was a mother. My second child I prayed for as well. Before finding out we were having another boy, I truly believed the Lord would give me a girl. Isn’t that the American dream? Husband, wife, son, and daughter? I remember the moment we saw our little rumbling baby boy. It was a bittersweet feeling. Yet, I was thrilled to have another baby boy and felt like I had the ‘boy thing’ under control anyways. So now, here we were, a beautiful healthy family of four. My husband and I had decided we were complete.
A few months after boy two graced us with his presence, my oldest confessed to me that even though he loved his baby brother he really wanted a sister. Without taking the time to explain that that was God’s decision not mine, I told him that if he wanted one so badly, that he needed to pray about it. Since my husband and I were ‘preventing’ from having more kids, I wasn’t much worried about his prayer being answered. Wow, am I a fool. God is so much bigger than whatever prevention method I could come up with. Yet, I was stupid enough to believe I was in full control of the situation. I believe that’s the flesh side of me thinking what I want is greater or better than God’s plan and design. The Bible tells us in Isaiah 55:8–9, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Months went by, my sweet boy would remind me often how he was praying for a sister and I, being so foolish in my own faith, would smile and tell him to keep praying. Three days after my 30th birthday, my husband walked in the house and handed me a pregnancy test. I thought he had hit his head and was crazy. He told me he knew I was pregnant and sure enough, I was. After crying, laughing, and crying some more I realized my precious boy’s prayer had been answered. Maybe not that he would get a sister exactly but the baby he wanted so badly was now growing inside of me. Imagine how tiny I felt. God was speaking in my ear, “I’ve got this. Not you.”
The day finally came for us to find out the gender of our baby and I had been trying to prepare my child for the fact that we would probably have another boy. He wasn’t having it. He insisted our newest blessing was a girl. We had our names picked out for either and were ready to know. While lying on the bed in the sonogram room, I remember watching our baby move around, kicking and swinging its arms. Then the time came and before anything was confirmed, I knew we were having a baby girl. I cried uncontrollably. You know, the ugly cry that you only do in private. I was crying so hard the nurse asked if I was upset our baby was a girl. I was the opposite of upset. I was humbled by the mighty power of God and a child’s prayer. I was reminded of Jeremiah 33:3, “Call me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”
The Lord was called upon and with that came a great reward. A few months later our beautiful, healthy, bund of joy was swaddled in my arms. She has made my faith stronger than it has ever been. Her brothers adore her and she has made my husband thrive to be an even better father. She filled a gap with joy that I didn’t even realize was there. I am so undeserving of my little blessings. Not just for my children, but also for the great faith of my son in God that he believed without doubt that if he prayed and devoted himself to the Lord, he would receive great things. While I was pregnant, that same little boy asked Jesus in his heart and has an awesome desire fueled with fire to know Him more.