I’ve been wondering how to start this post for a few months now. I went back and forth on announcing early to those of you who follow the blog, but ultimately decided I wanted to wait. This past November we found out we were pregnant, and in March we learned at our anatomy scan that Xavier is getting a sister.
We’ve chosen the name Ezra Joy—Ezra meaning “helper” and Joy to reflect the third week of Advent, which is when we saw her on ultrasound for the very first time. We did opt for having a cerclage placed, and I started progesterone injections at 16 weeks to prevent preterm labor.
However, almost two weeks ago at 22 weeks and 3 days my water broke at home. Since then I have been in the hospital on the high-risk obstetrics unit. Our girl is still in utero, bouncing around and kicking even without a high level of amniotic fluid. Yesterday we made it to 24 weeks, which is a huge milestone with preterm births. The longer Ezra remains in my womb, the more time she has to develop her lungs, and other important bodily systems. Everyday is a blessing, and his mercies are new for us each morning.
While Victor and I are hopeful and eager to meet our daughter (hopefully later than sooner), we also face a lot of fear and uncertainty with each day. I have no idea how long I’ll stay pregnant, when Ezra will be born, or how long she will have to stay in the NICU. I had imagined the end of my pregnancy being consumed with nursery planning, baby prepping our house and attending as many birthing classes as we could fit in. More than anything I just wanted to feel prepared, but nothing could really prepare us for this.
And so I am learning the beauty of taking each day as it comes. Like manna for each day, the Lord provides exactly what I need moment-by-moment as I continue to carry this child inside me. And I’m not going to lie—this is capital H-Hard. It’s so hard to depend on others. To need others. To feel pinned down, limited to very few choices. So many days I’ve felt like a burden, or like I should be able to do more for myself than I’m able to. But I’m learning to accept the grace He gives me each day, and that He is enough.
Infertility, infant and child loss, and pregnancy after loss create these clusters of women who experience the deepest sorrows, disappointments, and fears—a pain to which most people remain blissfully unaware. As a woman who belongs to all three clubs, I have had to joy and honor of getting to know so many of you. Please know that I carry you and your stories in my heart and with my family forever.
And to Ezra, the sweet girl growing inside of me today: I pray that as your mother I point you to Christ, like an arrow from my quiver. As we await your arrival, I steady my hand at the bow and prepare to launch you into this world as an ambassador of His glory and a conduit of His mercy.
I play this song at least once a day; it has been a favorite for so long and now its words have such a different meaning.
We’ve chosen the name Ezra Joy—Ezra meaning “helper” and Joy to reflect the third week of Advent, which is when we saw her on ultrasound for the very first time. We did opt for having a cerclage placed, and I started progesterone injections at 16 weeks to prevent preterm labor.
However, almost two weeks ago at 22 weeks and 3 days my water broke at home. Since then I have been in the hospital on the high-risk obstetrics unit. Our girl is still in utero, bouncing around and kicking even without a high level of amniotic fluid. Yesterday we made it to 24 weeks, which is a huge milestone with preterm births. The longer Ezra remains in my womb, the more time she has to develop her lungs, and other important bodily systems. Everyday is a blessing, and his mercies are new for us each morning.
While Victor and I are hopeful and eager to meet our daughter (hopefully later than sooner), we also face a lot of fear and uncertainty with each day. I have no idea how long I’ll stay pregnant, when Ezra will be born, or how long she will have to stay in the NICU. I had imagined the end of my pregnancy being consumed with nursery planning, baby prepping our house and attending as many birthing classes as we could fit in. More than anything I just wanted to feel prepared, but nothing could really prepare us for this.
And so I am learning the beauty of taking each day as it comes. Like manna for each day, the Lord provides exactly what I need moment-by-moment as I continue to carry this child inside me. And I’m not going to lie—this is capital H-Hard. It’s so hard to depend on others. To need others. To feel pinned down, limited to very few choices. So many days I’ve felt like a burden, or like I should be able to do more for myself than I’m able to. But I’m learning to accept the grace He gives me each day, and that He is enough.
Infertility, infant and child loss, and pregnancy after loss create these clusters of women who experience the deepest sorrows, disappointments, and fears—a pain to which most people remain blissfully unaware. As a woman who belongs to all three clubs, I have had to joy and honor of getting to know so many of you. Please know that I carry you and your stories in my heart and with my family forever.
And to Ezra, the sweet girl growing inside of me today: I pray that as your mother I point you to Christ, like an arrow from my quiver. As we await your arrival, I steady my hand at the bow and prepare to launch you into this world as an ambassador of His glory and a conduit of His mercy.
I play this song at least once a day; it has been a favorite for so long and now its words have such a different meaning.
I have been so grateful to know your story and hold your words. So I am praying hard for you & Ezra. This song is one of my favorites, too, and I will think of you each time it plays. Peace & hope & strength to you!
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