Miracles

6 years, 5 months, and 16 days.
That's how long I've been a mother.

I found out that I was pregnant with Brayden around three months before Mike and I's wedding. I wouldn't call it an accident, but it was certainly a surprise to everyone. I'd be lying if I said that I was in any way shape or form prepared, but Mike and I were excited... and scared, but mostly in awe of the little miracle that was growing inside of me.

It was 10 days later that I was in the hospital emergency room with severe cramping and bleeding. I was admitted to the maternity ward, pumped full of pain killers, and told that I was in the middle of a miscarriage. For 3 days I sat in that room, delirious from the cocktail of pills I was on, and cried. When I wasn't crying I was sleeping, dreaming about the face of my little baby that would never be. After a few days of pain and waiting for the inevitable I was sent home and told to "expect it when it comes and come right back to the ER when it did". Rather than expect it, I prayed. And somehow, by the grace of God, I have a happy and healthy little boy.

Both of my pregnancies were rough and hospital filled. I was on bed rest for 7 entire months when I was pregnant with Brayden and for 3 months when I was pregnant with Gage. With both children I had preeclampsia and blood clots in my womb. Everyday felt like a battle just to carry those boys and to nurture them.

My children are little miracles, and not a day goes by that I don't remind myself of just that. Mother's Day means something a bit extra special for me. I celebrate those lives that I fought for, that I dreamed of, that I cried over, and that I was told I would lose. I celebrate the fact that God made me a mother, even when I had lost hope.

I hope that all of you moms out there celebrated your little miracles too yesterday!