September 8, 2016

I can't believe my little man is one year old today... This past year has gone by so fast. This last week, leading up to his birthday, I have been reminiscing over what my life was like a year ago. I was rocking him in his room a couple days ago, thinking about that same day last year. I was probably rocking in that same chair with empty arms, imagining what he would be like and how much we would love him. Trying to create the feeling of what it would be like to rock my baby to sleep.

A year ago today we were at the hospital, after staying up all night with Emmanuel's birth mother. We were all exhausted, but my exhaustion paled in comparison to all the emotions I was feeling that morning. 

In the moments leading up to his birth, I kept looking back over the last 6 years. All the times I had cried out to God, asking him for a child. I had felt so overlooked, so forgotten. And then, there I was, a year ago today, waiting in a delivery room to become a mom for the first time. The Lord had heard my cries... He had not forgotten or ignored me, even though there were so many days where I felt like He had.

When the time came for Emmanuel to be born, I felt sick to my stomach. I was so afraid of how I would feel. This was an experience I had never had and I wasn't prepared for all the emotions that were flooding through me. It seemed to happen so fast. One minute I was drinking my coffee, the next, nurses were rushing saying, "Ok! It's time!" Within moments he was here. I thought it would take longer, but his birth mother was so strong and so persistent. 2 pushes and he was out.

I'll never forget seeing that little face enter this world for the first time. I looked at that tiny body in the nurses arms and I thought to myself, "that's my boy." I was completely overwhelmed. I just stood next to the hospital bed and wept. A nurse handed me the tools I needed to cut the cord, and I shook my head. I had wanted to do it, but when the moment came, I was too emotional and I just couldn't. I was a sobbing, shaking mess.

A nurse lifted Emmanuel, wiped him off, weighed him, and wrapped him up. She put a little hat on his full head of black hair and placed him in my arms. He was so tiny and so beautiful. I just stood there looking at him through blurred vision. My tears washed over his tiny face and I thanked God over and over and over. 

Not only did I thank God for this tiny life that He had so graciously placed in my hands, but I thanked him for every terrible moment over the past 6 years. I thanked him for the waiting. I thanked him for all the days that I hated because I couldn't see past "the moment" into the beautiful story that God was writing for me and my family.

I think we are all in those situations at times. We are so bound by time, that we see only one frame at a time. We are stuck in a one-frame, small picture, moment in time. God doesn't reveal all his plans to us at once, and sometimes, He doesn't reveal them at all. He is God, He is on the Throne, He is faithful, and we need to trust that He knows what He is doing, better than we do. During those difficult years of waiting to be a mom, I would remind myself often that God was on the Throne, and that He was Good. I had to remind myself that God was writing the story of my life, and that my idea of good and perfect, may be different from His idea. He defines what is good and perfect, not I.

Waiting for Emmanuel taught me so many things. But one thing it taught me more than anything, is that nothing goes overlooked. God is Sovereign and in control of all things. Even the things we feel like he must be overlooking because they don't seem good to us, God is sovereign over all. God is faithful. God is trustworthy. God writes beautiful stories for His children. God has a right to do with His creation whatever seems fitting to Him. I am so thankful that He saw fit to grant us grace upon grace upon grace. I am thankful that He saw fit to make us parents by giving us Emmanuel when we didn't deserve it. What a beautiful life He has given... one I would have never chosen, but that I would never trade.