Waiting for healing after the death of my firstborn son was the hardest kind of waiting. It wasn’t a countdown to something better; it was survival. Time moved forward, but I felt frozen in the moment my baby slipped away.
Grief settled into my bones. Some days, I functioned. Other days, I couldn’t breathe under the weight of loss. I longed to heal, to wake up and find the pain had softened, but healing didn’t come quickly. It came in slow, painful layers—one day, I could speak his name without breaking, another day, I could hold another baby without feeling like I was betraying him. Healing wasn’t moving on; it was learning to carry love and loss together.
And then, in December—nearly a year later—I saw two pink lines. I was pregnant again.
It should have been a moment of pure joy, but instead, I was terrified. What if something went wrong again? What if my blood pressure spiked? What if I had to say goodbye again? The excitement of new life was shadowed by the fear of losing it.
That season of waiting was unlike any other. I spent over a month in the hospital, with doctors and nurses tracking my BP around the clock, running multiple tests, counting kicks, checking every detail. Every day felt like a battle—not just against the fear, but against my own body, against the what-ifs that threatened to steal my peace. I wasn’t just waiting to meet my baby; I was waiting to know if we would both survive.
And in that intense, uncertain waiting, I prayed like never before. Not just for a healthy baby, but for strength to endure the unknown. For the ability to trust God even if things didn’t go the way I longed for them to.
Then, one day, my waiting ended. I held my second child in my arms—a miracle, not just because he was born, but because God had carried me through the waiting.
I had prayed for a healthy baby, and God had answered. But I had also prayed for the strength to trust Him, and that, too, had been answered. Because through it all, He had never left me. The greatest gift wasn’t just my son—it was knowing, beyond any doubt, that even in my most desperate waiting, I had never been alone.
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