tiny little heartbeat (little #4)

The stick turned blue.

I'm pregnant!

God is giving us another little person to love!

I'm so scared; are we out of our minds?

This week I heard a tiny little heart beating inside of me. . . tears are pooling now, just remembering Tuesday morning; this is our fourth little beating heart, created out of our love and the mighty hand of God. 

The awe doesn't wear off.

I hope the fear will.

I stood in our bathroom, peering down at a tiny plastic stick,  hoping, hoping, hoping. . . and then those two blue lines.

I jumped up and down.

I screamed at myself in the mirror we're gonna have another baby!

I cried out to the heavens in the direction of the ceiling Oh God, let him live for seventy five years! I'm begging You, I'm pleading with You!

I sat on the floor and wept.

We are so thankful.

We are so terrified.


{What monitor to use; or should we even go that route?}

{Googling innovative, uniquely designed cribs}

{How will I ever lay the poor child down? He'll have to sleep sometime}

{Fielding the kids' earnest questions. . .I hope it doesn't die, right Mommy?}


I tell myself each morning, Hayley, statistically this is not going to happen again.  And then I hear the haunting echo of statistically it shouldn't have happened to Gabe.

My faith in God as a Giver is being stretched and tried.  I know the answers.  Trust Him.  Trust His heart.  I want to. 

My reality is still arms that ache to hold a child torn from our family.

God, You won't take again, will You?

The answers are not mine.

What is mine is today.

I thank God for today, for life each night as I rest my hand on the chest of my sleeping son and feel his beating heart, as I smooth tousled hair from my daughter's face and rejoice in her warmth and even breathing.

Today is all we are given, tomorrow is not promised.

Today I thrill for the life inside of me.

Today I cry that our fourth child will never know his chunky-monkey older brother.

Today I thank God for a man who loves me.

Today I ache for the pain that life brings.

Today I google baby names, holding onto hope.

Today I look at photos of other children's headstones, searching for the perfect way to honor our precious little man.

Today I thank God that my kids were more cheerful than they were yesterday.

Today I hold Cambria as she weeps for a worm died in the street because a car ran over it.

Today I sit on the couch and play UNO (and lose) with my Jacob Daniel.

Today I share lunch with a dear friend.

Today I pack a NON pb&j sandwich for my man.  Today I make him take a few minutes out of his day and sit. And breathe. Today I love him.

Today Tonight the bedtime battle looms.  JD it is your turn for the shower { x 4 }

Tomorrow is not promised.

Jesus is promised.

Hope is promised.

Heaven is promised.

Grace for each day.


It isn't tomorrow.  I don't know what the future holds. 

It is today, and today. . . we rejoice in the life that God is giving.