A Room of His Own

 There’s probably nothing more exciting to a pregnant woman than shopping for cute little outfits, completing the baby registry, and putting together the nursery. Honestly, I am one of those insanely happy pregnant women; I love everything about pregnancy. Maybe it was because it took so long to finally get pregnant, but whatever it is, I’m so thankful that I love this experience.

 The past few weeks have been an emotional roller coaster, and I’ve found it hard doing the normal “status quo” pregnancy task. It’s difficult to shop for baby clothes because I don’t know if NICU babies wear clothes, how long he will be in the hospital, and the list of unknowns continues into options that I try not to even think about. The other day, I wandered in the store and bought three sleeper jammies for Easton. You know those cute footie pajamas; these were no different—just too cute to pass up. That is a small feat, for this mamma to be, buying clothes for my own child. I see all these other cute pregnant women with their carts full of items for their baby to be, and there’s me, strolling through the store with my three outfits in tow, no cart needed. But it’s good that I am trying to allow myself back into the world of realm of “normal” pregnant women. Every day is fight and a struggle to believe that God is still faithful, but I’m finding that he continues to peruse my heart, even when I think I am beyond pursuit.    

Last night, we (I mean my heroic husband) disassembled the bed that has been in the baby’s nursery and moved it upstairs, where he then reassembled it. The entire time he worked, I sat quietly praying that we would get to bring Easton home and that he would have many nights in HIS room. Today, Stephen started to unload the crib box and I couldn’t help be a little emotional. Feelings of jealousy rose to the surface as I thought about other pregnant mammas and daddies who are joyfully putting together their baby’s nursery, without even thinking twice about if their baby would come home to after his/her birth. To be honest, I had to leave the house, to just go for a drive and not think about “the unknowns.” The scary and challenging unknowns of having a baby with heart disease, not to mention his heterotaxy that only seems to complicate EVERYTHING else. I know that thoughts of inadequacy creep in during times like today. Thoughts such as, I’m not good enough or maybe Stephen and I did something wrong and that’s why Easton’s life may be harder than he deserves. But I know that is a lie and we did nothing wrong and I am good enough to be a mom to who gets to be overprotective and whatever else I’d like to be. I go back to my last blog where I wrote that the Lord predestined Easton’s life and I have to take comfort in that. I am so very thankful for this little red ninja who is very much so alive and is always giving me reminders by his midnight dance parties or by his MANY kicks and jabs. I love how when I am on the down and out, he is turning and moving all around, reminding me not to give up on him.

 On my way home, I called a dear friend of mine who lives WAY too far away on the West Coast, and she told me how they have a whole tribe praying for Easton. She reminded me that the “Lord is in the business of miracles” and I do believe that’s true. I so badly desire for a miracle to occur and for little Easton to be born perfectly healed as a healthy little boy. That’s the honest truth, and I know that all of you reading want the same thing for us. I take comfort in that it’s not just us fighting this battle; we have an entire team, spread out all over the country, praying for Easton and us as we await his arrival. It’s rather humbling and I’m not sure that by saying “thank you” will ever be enough.  

 As I walked back into the house and down the hall to the nursery, I saw an adorable baby bed, assembled and all. My heart was no longer heavy but just thankful that we have a place to bring Easton home too. But more importantly, I am reminded that he already has a room, it’s in our hearts and in the hearts of so many others. I am hopeful that one day that room will be filled with lots of poopy diapers, dirty laundry piled every where, and so many sweet baby giggles. The nursery isn’t done but neither is the Lord’s work on this path that we walk.