The Sweater

As I am writing this post for my blog, all I want to do is go upstairs, climb into bed, and curl into a fetal position under the covers. I truly feel awful and I can only thank God for it. I know that sounds really weird considering I feel like throwing up. Eleven years ago, (gosh, was it that long ago?), I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I was elated. My long time dream of becoming a mother was about to happen. My own mother was also ecstatic and was absolutely certain it was a boy. She even had a baby blue knitted sweater waiting for me to put on my little baby. I felt really good for a pregnant woman. The only time I threw up was when I took those humongous pre-natal pills. Otherwise, I felt the same. When I was eleven weeks pregnant, I started spotting. I was finally able to see a doctor and she did some blood work. A few days later, she called me at home and told me I was going to have a miscarriage. The precious life inside me had already died four weeks before. The night I miscarried was a devastating experience for me. The physical pain was great, but the pain in my heart could not be assuaged. For a month, I laid in my bed feeling sorry for myself. I would add to my pain by going to the baby section of stores and silent tears would stream down my face as I looked at the baby clothes and toys. A month after my miscarriage, we went to visit my parents. My mother showed me the little sweater she had for the baby. There it was folded inside tissue paper like a promise waiting for me. I took the sweater home with me and soon I became pregnant again. I immediately knew this pregnancy was different because I was sick as a dog. For three months, I alternated between nausea and vomiting plus the devastating fatigue. We had an ultrasound and found out we had a boy and he was perfect. During the next months of waiting for my son to be born, I would take out the sweater my mother gave me. As I touched the soft yarn, I dreamed of the day I would be able to put it on my sweet baby boy. The day finally came. As my son was placed on my stomach, we looked into each other's eyes and were blissfully content. I realized then God's plan. I understand now why I had that miscarriage. Without it, I would not have my sweet Nathanael. I believe the baby I miscarried is waiting for me and I will meet him someday, but for now, God has given me babies to hold and love. I know now that God's will is perfect and even though I feel so sick and tired right now, I would feel this way over and over in order to hear that little voice say, "Thanks for making dinner, Mom!" When I'm puking into the toilet, I will rejoice because I get little arms wrapped around me squeezing me tight and little kisses on the cheek. When I'm lying in agony from headaches and nausea, I will thank God for my life and the life that is growing inside me. I was able to put that little blue sweater on my first baby and then his brothers. It's still waiting for this new baby, but, Mom, if it's a girl, maybe you can get a pink one?