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“Mom, was I an accident?’

Those are not words you really want to hear from any of your children, trust me. But hear them I did, from the Princess, last week. She’s heard me talk about how she and Big Man are 12 months and 19 days apart. She’s overheard conversations, laughter (of a good type), how she got her name, that we used fertility drugs to get pregnant with her brothers.  But she had never uttered those words before, asking if she were an accident. Ouch.

After Big Man’s early arrival, I didn’t know we would have anymore children. I was terrified of living through the NICU, and definitely sure we could not possibly come out the other side with another miraculous outcome. And we still didn’t know he was going to be completely okay. I didn’t think about getting pregnant again. I couldn’t think about getting pregnant again, in spite of my perinatologist letting me know I had about a 15% chance of another premature delivery. I also had a fertility specialist tell me I basically couldn’t get pregnant without medical intervention.

God, in His infinite wisdom, had plans for our family. I remember the day I called Spouse and asked him to bring home a pregnancy test. Big Man had been out of the NICU for maybe six weeks. I hadn’t felt right for a couple of days, but blamed it on the exhaustion of  having a newborn, and possibly the flu. But then something about the way I felt was familiar, especially since I’d just been through it ten months before. So I called him, and I asked him to stop on his way home. There was silence for a moment, then laughter. That laughter continued when he got home and I took the test, only to immediately see two bright blue lines. He wasn’t the only one who laughed at the irony. We’d struggled through 18 months of fertility treatments, and one miscarriage, then a preemie, and now this….the not-unplanned-just-not-when-we-planned, grace of God baby. I cried. I cried for a week. And then I became terrified, so sure we would go through the same things all over again.

Again, God in His infinite wisdom, with His perfect plan, had our precious girl arrive 8 days after her due date. More irony. She’s no accident. She wasn’t quite my healing baby….she was born too soon after the hell of having a micro-preemie and living in the NICU for three months. But yet, she has healed me in so many ways. And given me room to breath between the two boys. Our pediatrician calls her Mary Poppins, because she’s practically perfect in every way. She was an easy baby – once we got past the serious baby acne, her peeling from head to toe, and a few months of colic. She would sleep anywhere, except in anyone’s arms. She ate well – once we figured out she needed soy formula. She smiled all the time. She went easily to other people and never really suffered the separation anxiety some kids go through. She always had her brother there with her. And the two of them were two peas from the start.

You’re not an “accident” in the least, my dear Princess. You are God’s answer to a prayer I didn’t know I was saying until  you arrived.

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