It is 4 am on the 23rd, and Sammy, my 3-year-old, has peed the bed. Not really a big deal as we’re still navigating potty training. My daughter, Abigail, seemed to be much easier to train, but that’s with 9 years between them, so I can’t really be sure.

Why the large gap? My disabilities (a story for another time) made it such that Abby being born was a miracle in and of itself, much more her brother almost a decade later. In between the two precious babies I have here on Earth, Sam (my husband/Abby and Sammy’s father) and I have had 4 beautiful souls go back to God. I try to avoid the word “lost” when referring to these children, as I know where they are and I know as long as I am saved and faithful, I will see them again. Hold them. Give them all the love in Heaven that I could not on Earth.

Coming to this conclusion has taken more than the 9 years betwixt my living children and well into Sammy’s Earth-bound years. Acknowledging the pain I went through or feeling grief does not mean for one second I ever regretted or wasn’t grateful for my living children. It’s possible to have grief and still be grateful – they’re not mutually exclusive.

And, as serendipity would have it (and I didn’t know this until this afternoon), I saw the following post from 4 years ago (2019) on my Facebook memories:

Today is apparently #rainbowbabyday. To those who do not know, a rainbow baby is a baby born after miscarriage or stillbirth. Sammy Jr. isn’t technically born but he’s healthy so I consider him my rainbow baby, at the risk of hubris, because I know what it took to get to him.
We had to list all 4 of our losses after Abby for the doctor yesterday and I about broke down in the waiting room listing them. But I was able to smile again when he kicked me and when I saw him on the screen being a goofball.
So here’s hoping he’s my rainbow baby. Here’s hoping anyone who has had the misfortune of pregnancy loss can find the end of their rainbow.
The doc asked if we knew why we had all the losses – I don’t know. I’ll probably never know. I don’t think knowing would make it any better but it does get easier day by day with good friends and family by your side.
God bless and have a great Rainbow Baby Day.

Facebook Post, 8/23/19

Obviously, after that post, in late November, my darling son came into this world. Sam’s aunt, Faith, gave us a beautiful receiving blanket with the first part of 1 Samuel 1:27 on it: “For this child I prayed…” The whole verse, “For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him”, is just good to know its entirety. We had prayed for our baby boy, and the perfect verse to encapsulate how he came to be was in 1 Samuel, his name. We didn’t name him after the book of the Bible – we named him after Sam – but the coincidences were too poignant to ignore.

Sammy was a miracle from God, no doubt about it, but could I see that at the time? Yes and no; I loved him (and still do – don’t worry!) and we had plenty of sweet moments/memories together in his infancy/early toddlerhood; however, I would often get frustrated when things weren’t going “right” (read: “perfect”). I thought God answering my prayers perfectly also meant that I was going to get a perfect baby.

Here are some things I know about God: His timing is always perfect, His answers are always accurate, and He absolutely has a wonderful sense of humor.

At the time, I didn’t know these truths as entirely as I do now. I would cite 1 Samuel 1:27 sarcastically every time he got into something, broke something, ran away from me, threw a fit, or did all these things at the same time in public. Then I noticed my citing this verse was in anger at Sammy, at God, at the situation – just pure anger. I just wanted him to be calm in Walmart – was that so much to ask?! In my self-pitying, rage-addicted indignation, I wasn’t acknowledging that God gave me this particular boy for a reason and, as it tells us in Romans 8:28, it’s always a good reason. Sam and I were meant to be his parents.

I started going back to church in 2021 and found a church home (another story for another day). Once I prioritized my relationship with God as opposed to just being angry at Him for all the bad things and not acknowledging my blessings, everything else fell into place. I know that’s oversimplifying it, but for the purposes of this post, let’s just keep it focused on Sammy.

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart – just kidding), we had a Santa event at church with hot cocoa, music and the white bearded fellow himself. Sammy didn’t understand that he had to wait in line and he was all over the place trying to cut the line, eat fistfuls of marshmallows, take all the cookies, and generally being a little butthead. Total naughty list material. I got a picture of him with Santa which belies the experience as a whole since he smiled and sat still nicely in the photo but was really bad the rest of the time. Santa’s not fooled, buddy! I gathered up a screaming, kicking toddler and left the church, afraid I’d never be able to come back again and absolutely mortified.

I apologized to SO many people and everyone had the same reaction: “Why are you sorry?” I realized then that yes, my kid was being a bit of a pill but no one was judging me because a. kind of not in line with Jesus’ teachings and b. everyone’s been there with a kid before – it’s not that special. There’s comfort in that – that other people have been there and they’re still in one piece so maybe there’s hope for me, as well.

After getting a more stable foundation with God, one of the things that was so important to fall into place was my mental health. I worked hard repairing years of neglect to get help I desperately needed but was too ashamed to ask for at the time. As a work in progress (like we all are), I fail more often than I succeed in asking for help but at least it’s on a slow upward trajectory – Hills and Valleys, as Tauren Wells sings.

My relationship with Sammy started to shift dramatically, too. When I wholeheartedly started prioritized my mental wellbeing, I enjoyed my relationship with my whole family more but most especially my little spitfire. I didn’t see him as a curse per se but I didn’t see him as the full blessing he is, either. I’ve also stopped comparing him to his sister – they’re both great kids in their own rights and I was doing her as much a disservice putting her on a pedestal as I was him.

He’s still loud and rambunctious. He still gets into everything, and my Facebook posts about his exploits in mud, water, flour, syrup, frosting, et cetera (things you’d think we’d learn to secure better but…meh…) are legend now. He’s amassed a “fan club” of sorts who love hearing about his antics. I think the reason for this is that when I present them on the internet, it’s never in anger or seeking pity – it’s just showing Sammy being Sammy and letting our friends in on the humor. If I were truly angry, I’d never take pictures because I’d be too ashamed.

There are days I am well past my limit, but it takes me less and less time to calm myself and appreciate my little man (and correct any problem behavior constructively). He is still not awesome in Walmart, but I wouldn’t trade him for the whole world.

I cite 1 Samuel 1:27 as its original intent these days because that is how I view it. I made a petition unto God to bring me a child after He brought our 4 unborn babies home to be with Him. In our darkest grief, He gave us the most precious little baby boy who completed our family and lights up our days.

At 4am last night when I was cleaning up linens and a 3 year old to put back into bed with fresh sheets and encouragement that one day he’ll “get it” with potty training, I realized one of the blankets he peed on? The 1 Samuel 1:27 one.

Yep, God has a great sense of humor and now I’m finally able to laugh.