Josh and I tried for a baby for over a year, and were elated when we found out we were pregnant. I swear, at the time we were trying, people around us were getting pregnant just by looking at their spouses. For us, it started as "trying, but not trying". After months of that going no where, I started tracking my ovulation, basal body temperature, etc. Finally! I got a positive pregnancy test. Unfortunately, about six weeks in, I started to "borderline" miscarry. We all knew it was coming, but I held out hope. At one point, while in the ER, the doctors has asked if I had done fertility treatments. Until he showed us the ultrasound, we weren't sure why he was asking. There it was, three different sacs. To this day, we'll never know if it was triplets, or a pregnancy gone very wrong. At no point were there ever heartbeats. Finally, around eight weeks, I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and there he/she was, my baby. I had never personally been so hurt in my entire life, when it came to my own body. I didn't understand why this was happening to me. Part of me wanted so badly to have a baby as soon as I could, so that my Mom would have time with it.
A few months passed, and though it still hurt, we started trying again...to no avail. Months went by, and I finally went to my doctor for help. From the ovulation tests, I knew something wasn't quite right. I was never consistent. My doctor put me on Clomid, and told me that he could do three months of this, after that we would have to make trips to Walter Reed for stronger fertility treatment. I was just so happy that someone understood me enough to help...and not just say "but you're so young", as I had heard many times previous.
With the second round, and dreading starting the third, I realized I was three days late. I was NEVER late. Always about three days early. You might wonder why it took so long to realize this...but, at this time, I was still taking care of my Mom, and going to classes. On my way home from class, I stopped at Walgreens, and called my Mom. She was always the first person I called...for anything. As a matter of fact, it was habit to get in my car and call her, if she wasn't with me.
I got home, and excitedly took the test. If you have ever had fertility issues, you know how much anxiety comes with peeing on a stick. Josh was asleep for the night, so I didn't bother him...when I saw the test was positive!!!! I WAS PREGNANT! I talked myself down many times that night, and prayed for a level head, knowing there was always the possibility of another miscarriage. Fortunately, the morning sickness came....and it was welcomed. They usually say it's a good sign, as your body is increasing in hormone levels.
It was a great pregnancy. I got to share the excitement with my mother, and even told her that Josh and I would be naming him after her. It was important to me that he go through life, having part of her with him all the time, hence the name Broderick. The night I went into labor, Josh was training in VA for the Corps. My Mom had taken her sleeping medicine just hours before my water broke. It really felt like a three ring circus, but it's a memory I will never forget. Thankfully, Josh made it in time, and my Mom was in the room with me the entire way through. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Brody came out disgruntled and only wanting his Mommy. I never knew love, or at least THIS kind of love, until I held him in my arms and kissed his skin. You see, I prayed for him. I prayed that I would have a child, before my Mom got really sick. I prayed that she would be there that day, and she was. You should have seen the look in her eyes when he arrived. It's like she knew everything he was and would be. She used to tell me, during the infertility, that God would give me a baby when he was ready. How right she was.
Three months and seven days after Brody was born, my Mom took her last breath.
Though my world shattered that day, and my heart still hurts every day, Brody was my miracle. It's sometimes selfish to rely on your children for happiness, as you are the one that is supposed to provide the happiness for them, but, Brody is different. Brody was my strength when the rest of my world collapsed. Brody was my happiness when there was so much heartbreak. Because of my son, I was able to push through each day. I couldn't just stop. I couldn't just set him aside and wallow in my sadness. A month after my Mom passed, Josh got called up early for his deployment. It was just Brody and I, for months. Of course, I visited family and friends, or they visited me, but, Brody was my constant. I had to be the best Mommy I could be.
My son has given me strength to push through every hard day. He has brightened my world when there was only darkness. It was because of God's gift, that I was able to pull myself off the floor and LIVE. It is because of my son that I didn't get to stop and just let go. Broderick was my miracle. He was meant to be, exactly at that time, exactly the way it happened...it was meant to be. I learned such an appreciation for life, through my own son. When my angel on earth went back to God, it was God's gift to me that gave me strength.
So, when I look back at everything Brody is, his birth, his life...it all means so much more. Because of Brody, I am strong. Because of my own mother, I am a good mother. I vehemently believe Brody was my miracle...lent to me by God, for so many more reasons than just "having a child". And, furthermore, I appreciate life so much more. I appreciate every second I get with him, or anyone else in my life. When I could have crashed, his sweet little face would smile at me, and I knew that he was my miracle...
Happy third birthday, to my angel...my light, my happiness, my reason for knowing how to love deeper than I have ever loved before.
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