I will never forget the moment I knew I was pregnant again. I was walking to the gym (in the building of my work) on my lunch break and stopped dead in my tracks. I stepped right off of the elevator and literally stopped moving. Why?
Because I was STARVING. Anyone who has ever been pregnant knows what it means to be STARVING when you are pregnant. It is an instantaneous moment of extreme “find food now” and extreme anger that food isn’t magically appearing. I have only experienced this wave of must eat NOW during pregnancy.
I recognized the feeling. And I knew I was pregnant. So, I turned around…went to my car…drove to Meijer’s…bought a pregnancy test and took it.
Strange….maybe I just really didn’t want to go to the gym? I did just run 26.2 miles in the Chicago Marathon literally 2 weeks prior. I was owed a break, right?
But, I knew. So, I waited and took another in the morning…first thing, duh.
I had already done the whole “come up with creative ways” to tell your spouse you are pregnant thing…and each time, we got our hopes up and they were ripped from us. Pregnancy was no longer an innocent thing. It was no longer a joyful thing.
It was a very, VERY scary thing.
So, this time, I walked into the bedroom and showed him the pregnancy test. We both stared at eachother. He said, “ok…should you call the doctor?”; I said, “yes.” And that was that.
We met with our specialists, got all of my medication in order and began the journey to bringing you into this world.
I took a blood thinning shot in my belly every morning…took a large amount of pills…and had an appointment a week my first trimester and two appointments a week during my second and third trimester.
As much as we wanted a baby. As much as we wanted a family. We were so scared of pregnancy. We were so tentative to believe that you would actually survive.
We didn’t talk baby names for months. We didn’t plan for a nursery. We didn’t register. We didn’t want a baby shower.
We wanted to focus on being grateful for the present. The day we were living in with you.
We honestly didn’t know how to look forward to the future. We knew how to be thankful for today. We knew how to laugh and giggle over what you were doing in the moment. We had no idea what it looked like to see a pregnancy through to the end. We only knew how to say good-bye.
We both said that until we held you in our arms, we weren’t ready to say hello.
That was, until I was around 6 months pregnant.
I had a dream. In my dream, my grandma Bev, (who had already passed away) walked up to me at church. I was so confused because I knew she had passed away years ago. My goodness, she looked radiant. She hugged me and said “Gosh, I love your kids (referring to the ones in heaven with her) and they love you so much.” And then she put her hands on my belly, looked me in the eyes and gently said “You are going to have this one, sweetie.”
That dream literally rocked me to my core. I remember it vividly. And I woke up, for the first time, with hope that I would see you here on this earth. I immediately called my friend, Lindsay and said, “I’m ready to believe I will have a daughter….wanna help me with the nursery and throw a shower and do everything else that comes with having a baby?”. If you know Lindsay, you know that we both spent the next 3 minutes switching back and forth between crying and giggling.
Scott found your name. And though we aren’t “meaning of names” people, we specifically named you Emara because of its meaning. It fits perfectly. Emara – the child we hoped for. And Jane – my grandma Bev’s middle name meaning gift from God.
We spent the last 6 weeks of our pregnancy on bedrest and in and out of the hospital. But, that was ok. We had been told from the beginning that we would be lucky to keep you inside for 25 weeks…so every week in was a MAJOR blessing. I contracted (3 minutes apart consistently) for 3 weeks…but you stayed in…and you kept growing. We were about 1 month away from your original due date (July 9) when my water broke at about 1:30am on a Sunday night. I thought I had peed my pants…
Side note: Water breaking is NO JOKE. If your water breaks at home, pack towels for your hospital bag. For serious.
After 9(ish) hours of active labor and 1(ish) hour of pushing, you came into our world. Monday, June 13 @ 2:40pm. It was a warm, full-of-sunshine day.
Emara Jane Zibell. You are a complete miracle. You were born healthy. My kidney survived and I had no blood issues. Literally, everything we had prepared ourselves for did not take place.
And I have loved every second with you. Every single moment has been a picture of God’s love. I am so incredibly honored to be your mom. To have this precious responsibility of guarding your heart. Of protecting you. Of helping you grow into an independent, loving and thoughtful human being. You are my constant reminder of the goodness of God. That He did not forget about me and my deep desire to be a mom.
You are so feisty, and yet sweet. You are fearless, and yet shy. You are funny, and yet you make me work for a laugh.
You are so empathetic, you cry when others cry. Yet, you won’t just give out “feel better” hugs to anyone. You love most animals and every bug that comes your way is a “yady-bug”. You are very scared of bears though, yet you love growling like one.
You love to close your eyes, stick your arms out and bop your head around. We have not figured out what you are trying to do, but it’s hilarious to watch.
Every time you burp, you say “That was a biiig poop!” And every time, your dad tries (in vain) to correct you.
You love wearing mommy’s leg muscles out by playing “superman” and you love grabbing daddy’s hand and running circles around the house.
You have started to tell us that you love us. And you now grab our cheeks and kiss us (or lick us) at random.
I could go on for hours about you and how much you have changed my life for the best.
But, I will stop and say that on October 28, 2010, when I found out that I was pregnant with you….I had NO IDEA the incredible miracle I was about to witness…we had no idea the enormous blessing we were about to get. We just knew that we ached for you to come home.
And that you did, little one.
Happy 2nd Birthday. We couldn’t love you more if we tried.