Editor’s Note:  We’re bringing this one back from Ashli.  Original post date:  January 6.  One of our favorites..


Tomorrow will mark 36.1 weeks in my pregnancy. But my baby, our third baby boy, will be one month old. For the last month, he’s been living in a womb with a view. Rather than burrowing about in mama’s belly, he’s been in an isolette, or as we’ve named it, his “superhero chamber.”

On December 10th, we delivered our third son. A beautiful, but tiny, baby boy. It was not the delivery we had anticipated but it was still an absolutely unforgettable day. A day that I will forever be thankful for. Because our outcome will forever, to me, be our kind of miracle.

And people, the very best of people, have helped us. Have done everything under the sun to make what could be hard, easier. And everyone keeps asking me if I’m sad at all. Sad that my pregnancy, my likely final pregnancy, ended prematurely. That our sweet boy has to be at a hospital instead of at our home. Or that I have to take on a special diet again, to soothe his belly. Or that we have to do so much juggling with our other boys.

But I am not sad. Instead, my heart feels full. I have a sense of clarity I’ve never before experienced. And I feel, for lack of any better word for it, blessed. Beyond belief.

I have shed very few tears. Generally a very emotional, hormonal being, I’ve been fairly even keel through this roller coaster ride. And the first tears I shed, were plentiful, and came in church, on Christmas Eve. And then again, in church, at the Celebration of Life Service. And though I’ve shed a few tears on a couple of other occasions, the real cries, come in church. And I can’t help but think that there is a reason for that. Because in church, I feel so close to the one who blessed us with four pregnancies. The one who has given us three healthy babies. And the one who kept our third boy safe. And healthy. And kept me safe and healthy. And in church, I am overwhelmed by that. And by the goodness of people. To guide me through these days and all the days.

I am thankful for a place to cry. To let go of the combination of joy, uncertainty and the unknown. I am thankful that, in church, my body and mind can release all of the emotions that have otherwise, seem to want to stay tucked securely inside of me.

As a mom, as a woman, I think it’s important to be real. To acknowledge what we’re feeling and to appropriately emote. If not for ourselves, then for an example to our children. Do you have a place to cry? A place to offload anger? Or a place to share your overflowing joy?

Keep up with all of Ashli’s posts at Baby on the Brehm.  

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Ashli Brehm

Ashli Brehm = Thirtysomething. Nebraska gal. Life blogger. Husker fan. Creative writer. Phi Mu sister. Breast cancer survivor. Boymom. Premie carrier. Happy wife. Gilmore Girls fanatic. Amos Lee listener. Coffee & La Croix drinker. Sarcasm user. Jesus follower. Slipper wearer. Funlover. Candle smeller. Yoga doer. Pinterest failer. Anne Lamott reader. Tribe member. Goodness believer. Life enthusiast. Follow me at http://babyonthebrehm.com/