Just Amy

Another child, is all I asked,

One to hold and to love and adore

But in HIS goodness he smiled and said,

“Not just what you ask … I’ll give more.”

When Ryan came along in July, it seemed as though life couldn’t be any better.

I had an amazing man that I was completely in love with who stood by me in very dark times, in my worst moments, often taking the brunt of all my negative emotion and questioning. He simply and categorically just loved me.

MY JOY was elated to have a little brother … finally. Ethan was nearly five when Ryan was born but he’d been asking for a sibling for almost two years. He adored Ryan and wanted to be with him all the time. And was the best helper, mimicking and participating in everything we did to care for Ryan. He was totally amazing.

MY MIRACLE was in my arms. The one I’d begged God for, wept for, longed for. He was proof that God still heard my cries in the night. Proof those prayers hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. He was a second product of the immense love Jason and I had for one another. And he brought peace to my heart. And healing.

Ryan was about 11 weeks old when I was driving home and saw a billboard for a Dairy Queen blizzard. I remember that very vividly because I just couldn’t believe how much I wanted that blizzard … and I’m not an ice cream lovin’ kinda girl.

Then, days later, we ordered pizza. I thought it was so strange with every bite of that pizza, the smell of the sauce was almost too much. I only ate one piece. And what seemed like minutes later, I was in the bathroom hugging the porcelain throne, ridding my body of that foul smelling sauce. So weird, since my stomach isn’t normally sensitive at all, nor is my nose.

That Sunday night, as my sister and I were working in the nursery together, I was telling her about those two situations during the past week and a few more (I’ll spare you the details). She listened as she cared for babies in the room, and then whipped around with eyes wide as a light went off in her head, “You’re pregnant!”

I laughed, holding my nearly 12 week old in my arms, the infant we’d struggled for two years to hold. “There’s no way.” The more she talked, the more irritated I became. I have a newborn baby, I was NOT pregnant.

On the way home, I bought a pregnancy test to prove her wrong. But that pink line didn’t have to wait three minutes before showing up … it was immediate. Jason and I stood in the bathroom and just laughed. We laughed all the way to bed and continued laughing lying in bed until we fell asleep. It began a list of all the things we would have to buy again … another crib (giggles), another car seat (laughter), another size of diapers (hysterical laughter).

But the laughing ended when I got up the next morning. Reality slapped me in the face. What the heck was I going to do? How in the world am I going to do that? Be a mom of Irish twins? I’m not good enough. I won’t survive. They won’t survive.

But as it turns out, I could, and they did survive. And you know what was crazy amazing about this 7th pregnancy? Not a moment was spent in fear or worry. There was an overwhelming peace and a confidence without wavering that I was going to hold this baby. That he was going to be the completion of our family.

Here’s the amazing about Aaron.

He wasn’t wildly, excitedly anticipated or that first evidence of mine and Jason’s love in human form or my first ever JOY in motherhood. He wasn’t the persistent, begging request to God or the basis of prayer for two years or the evidence that God still performs personal MIRACLES.

But let me tell you what Aaron was and is and always will be.

He is the evidence that God doesn’t just see me or answer prayer or do miracles. Aaron is evidence of Ephesians 3:20

“Now to Him who is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly more than all that we dare ask or think [infinitely beyond our greatest prayers, hopes or dreams] …” (AMP)

Was Aaron planned? No, he was not. Did we ask God for another child? No again. We were totally shocked in learning he was coming? Most definitely.

But he wasn’t an accident. God knew in infinity past that Aaron was going to be part of our family of five. And he knew the heartache we would endure. The trauma my heart and mind would encounter. And he planned to give us more than our greatest prayers, hopes and dreams. As I held Aaron as a newborn and would zip him up in my hoodie like a kangaroo pouch and feel those fat, round cheeks on my chest, I knew Aaron was a special gift from God. I could hear him saying to me, “Amy, you’ve prayed for so long for another child and you feared I’d forgotten you or turned from you. And I answered your prayer with Ryan. But because I love you so much, I’m going to give you an extra gift, a surprise I knit together just for you and Jason. A BONUS … I’m giving you Aaron.”

So if you ever call him an “Oops” or “accident” in my presence, you’ll be quickly corrected and probably rather harshly. We don’t call him that in our family. Because it simply isn’t true. He is MY God-given BONUS.