Grace

Before I was pregnant with Grace, I miscarried a baby after an anxious and painful 10 weeks. I had had small hemorrhage between the placenta and the uterus - something that is very common and usually heals itself, but didn't in our case. I was heartbroken. I knew that we were going to have a baby girl, someday, and that she would have curly brown pigtails, and her name would be Grace.

I got pregnant again soon after and was, obviously, so excited. About six weeks in I started bleeding again. An ultrasound revealed that I had another hemorrhage in the same place. Again, the doctors said that it was common and usually heals itself, but they seemed less convinced this time around. Weeks went by with more painful bleeding episodes, and I remember praying that if God was going to take this baby to do it soon. At another ultrasound at about twelve weeks, the hemorrhage was huge; way bigger than the baby. My doctor told me it looked bad; go home and wait to miscarry.

Instead, that Sunday, we went to church. We asked our pastor and the elders of our church to pray over us.

The next week, I went to the specialist's office for yet another ultrasound. The tech ran the ultrasound device over my belly many times, for many minutes. Then the doctor came in. They chatted for a minute before the doctor looked at me and asked, "Christie, why did they send you up her?" They could find nothing on the ultrasound that was any threat to the baby. I couldn't believe it. The hemorrhage was completely gone. They scanned again, found nothing and sent me home.

My doctor was still wary, I think just trying to protect my feelings lest something should happen. She didn't give me much of a thumbs up until about 20 weeks. That was hard. Sometime around 13 weeks (at, yes, another ultrasound!) they told me that we were having a girl. I was THRILLED, but scared ... for the rest of the pregnancy. My friends can attest to the fact that I did not stop worrying, the ENTIRE time. It was a long nine months.

Then came delivery time, and Grace was still up to her old tricks. Her heart rate dropped and the doctor came in and ordered tributa-something, and she wanted it, "Stat!" It felt very ERish. A few hours later Grace was born. I remember when her head debuted and I heard a little whimper. I LOST it; I felt like a two ton weight was lifted off of my shoulders. She was a beautiful, perfect baby, and the rest is history.

Grace Emelia. Never before did a name seem so fitting. (For the odd story about her middle name, see here.)

I write this with so much gratitude. Grace is now three, VERY healthy and full of LOTS of energy. She loves kitties and horses, and randomly neighs or mews throughout the day. She loves wearing princess clothes, and screams if we put her in anything but a dress. She sneaks out of bed some nights and plays in her room until she zonks out on the floor. She adores her brother, and wonders why there is a choo choo in my stomach. She tells us what to say: "Say, 'How was your nap, Grace?'" "Say, 'Yes, sweetie pie?'" "Say, 'Go to your room, Jake!'" She is a Daddy's girl. She is hilarious, and has the best laugh.

Happy birthday to our baby who almost wasn't. We love you so much.