What a difference a year makes!
This time last year, on Mothers’ Day 2016, I was recovering from the worst stomach bug of my life, dehydrated and feverish, just thanking God I wasn’t pregnant at the time. I had hit the longest point of infertility, and it had been three years I had wanted a Child #3.
I was grateful to be coherent and recovering, grateful for the lessons learned, grateful for a new doctor with a new drug to try, and grateful for the two girls given to me. As I hit Mothers’ Day, I remember being resigned and grateful, and in a good place with the Lord.
Around two weeks later, on June 1st, I found out I was pregnant with “Tiny Doll.” Here I am, a year later, mother of 3 with an almost 3 month old.
It strikes me there are a lot of 3s involved. Three years of personal waiting for Child #3 who is now almost 3 months old.
Three is an important number in the Bible too. For three days, Jesus lay in the tomb, and the disciples despaired. They longed for and grieved their very best friend, they mourned their betrayal and cowardice, and they hid in an inner room, scared, devastated, and feeling lost. They forgot all of His promises, all of His power, and couldn’t fathom the end of the story.
But in 3 days, Christ arose, conquering death, securing my salvation, and proclaiming Himself as God without a doubt.
This Mothers’ Day I rejoice in new ways, with the baby blessing I do not deserve.
Praise be to God!