I walk out of the room you are sleeping in and flash back to seven years ago
-empty and low from years of no you. 
Knowing you were filling somePlace, completing His promise someWhere, 
with Him. 
Unsure, unaware of what that looked like on earth, in skin.

It hits hard again, 
I could have been a women who never had a child 
There could have been no Plan for you, 
and I could have been left to what my flesh could handle on its own. 
Not the forming of a baby inside. Not the miracle of you. 
Not this life full.

I remember, before you came, someone begging me to see a doctor, 
using the success of my sister's medically assisted pregnancy 
to strengthen her case. 
I remember the plea in her tear brimmed eyes. 
She must have thought I'd lost my mind when I told her 
that we had chosen God for our Doctor in this... 
when I promised her that even if I had been born without a uterus 
He would make it happen if he wanted me to have a baby. 

I saw her hope slump and heard her closing cry. 
She believed that God could not be everywhere at once. 
She held, "He has a lot of people to help, and that is why He gave us doctors."

I remember standing there with teen Isabel, 
watching our family of unbelievers watching us believe, 
and I see now how we weren't just waiting for you, our son. 
We were waiting for Him and all that He could do 
with the miracle you would come to be known as. 
All the ways He would be Glorified in what still can not otherwise be;
a childbearing me. 

Sometimes I do think of what we'd look like without you, but only for a second. 
It's a reminder I'll never take for granted. 
I think of the pain and struggle of laying stretched out, 
bleeding the dreams of a mom and dad. 

I spill out over the joys of those dreams coming true everyday. 

When you're laying soft and sprawled on our bed fast asleep 
and I have to sneak out for a quick minute, 
I stop in the space between us where I can only imagine without you.
Then I quickly return to catch my breath full of this sweet truth 
-you, right beside me.

Praising God for you today and always.


  1. Sweet! It brings tears to my eyes "reliving" that journey with you, thinking of what God has planned for this little man He has placed with you.

  2. I think I said Amen about a dozen times while reading this.

    And again, Amen!