Having hope

I can recall the exact moment that a sixth child became a mental possibility. It was the day I found out Emmett was a boy. It wasn't because I wanted to try and give him a brother. I was so sure I was done that I was boxing up all my baby girl clothes to give them away. Anabelle was helping me, and when I told her what I was doing, she leapt into my lap in a sudden burst of sincere sadness. It was raw and it was real. Through tears she begged me to have just one more baby after this one. The pleading of this big sister for just one more sibling reached into my heart and made some quick adjustments. Braden was currently deployed. Lila was out of control with rage. I was sick, constantly. If anybody knew the toll it was on me, it was Anabelle, I leaned on her heavily as an eight year old. Her reaction was so sincere. It jarred me. I had to wonder if there was something to it. If she knew something. If she was being directed. In a single instant I went from being completely sure this was it to wondering if there was another.

The rest of the moments are less defined in my memory, but not any less significant in their impact. The only way I can describe it is to say that over the last two and a half years this idea has been nourished since the time Anabelle first planted that seed. It's been small moments of knowing that there is another. In my mind this baby is always a boy. In April when I went to Utah alone, I took the opportunity to go to the temple early each morning with the intent of gaining solid confirmation of this sixth baby. I received that through several small moments and a general feeling of peace. More than anything, it was just a growing assurance that it was right.

I needed a solid knowledge to cling to when things get hard. I have no extra time in my life right now. I feel stretched in every way. Each day is a furious frenzy to get things done, and still be nice about it. I often lose. So the thought of adding a baby to what already feels like treading water, seems overwhelming to say the least. BUT, if I know that it is right, and it is Heavenly Father's plan for us, I also KNOW that He will give me the strength I need to accomplish it.

So taking a big deep brave breath, we decided to get pregnant in August. I planned it just right with our school year. The last five times, as soon as we decided to be pregnant, we've been pregnant. So we fully expected this to be the case. When I wasn't, I was surprised. I wondered if my body was regulated from having nursed so long. I wondered if my accident in March had caused damage. We moved along and planned well again for the next month, with the same result. I also had a checkup at the doctor, who assured me that neither the accident or nursing should play a role. We just had our third month of being unable to get pregnant. Which I know for a lot of people is completely normal. But we've never had to wait for a baby. And we've always recognized the blessing that is, and said we were grateful, but from where I am now I think our gratitude was insufficient. I suppose we were as grateful as we knew how to be. Because it was always handed to us and I suppose I felt a bit entitled to it. I was being obedient and having children I felt directed to have- the pregnancies and the hard births and the painful recovery and nursing experiences- those were my hardships.

Initially I delved into this with the mindset of being nervously obedient. Over the last three months I find myself incredibly disappointed each time. I want so much to give Emmett a brother. I want, one last time, to feel life inside of me. I want that powerful, earth shattering emotion that comes from delivering a child, painful as it is. I want to nurse a baby to sleep and watch all the firsts, for the last time. I never considered that it would play out like this. I thought that once I gained a confirmation and I acted on it, it would be given to us. Nephi's retrieval of the brass plates comes to mind. He was instructed to go get the plates. It was a righteous endeavor, which he acted on. But once he completed that long trek, which was probably its own hardship, they were not just handed to him upon his arrival. They had several serious setbacks. In the end he had to kill, something he really didn't want to do, in order to accomplish God's work. I'm certain that when he set out for Jerusalem, he did not forsee the process being so arduous. And yet his faith and tenacity carried him through. God's purposes were accomplished, in that the plates were retrieved and that everybody involved had the chance to prove their faith. Those plates could have been given to Lehi's family in very simple, easy ways. But no doubt this early experience proved to be a building block for the faith of a future prophet and leader of a nation.

I've had the impression that there is another person that is to come to our family. At this point I'm wondering how wily this experience will be. And what do I need to learn from it. How can I allow myself to make important changes. How can I let this mold me into the person He wants me to be. How can I grow in a way that will bless the generations who will follow.

Is this a lesson in patience? Gratitude? Hope and endurance? I've had a few experiences with the idea of foster care and adoption lately and I have to wonder if it is a coincidence. I've wondered if I can love another baby that's not my own, with the same depth and fierceness.

I can't believe how much I want this baby. It went from being an overwhelming idea and hardship, to something I felt was right, to something I felt I already had (if only mentally), to something that seems possibly out of reach. This emotional process has showed me that it's not just obedience. Through this emotional and spiritual journey, I have come to want this baby. I've already made space for him in my heart and my mind and somehow there's a hole there where nothing has ever been.

The only thing I know to do is to keep obeying, move forward, and hope.