I was so surprised by the feeling of yesterday. While overjoyed to learn that our 4th child is Atticus, the end of our ultrasound delivered some painful news. But it was the feeling receiving that news. It was just different than last time. More still. Quiet. Very sad and tear evoking, but something else too.
It has a name, that feeling. It’s called hope.
Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know what I knew in my head had moved into my heart. I felt it without thinking about it. There are real roots there. In the suffering of Oliver’s pregnancy and the mercy of the Lord to use that process to draw us to His face, the endurance of that journey did indeed produce hope. The good stuff.
True rejoicing comes knowing Atticus is the Lord’s. As privileged as I feel to be his mother, so longing to hold him and with great expectation that he will live life with us, I can rejoice that nothing can change whose he is.
The hope in the face of real trials. Painful trials. Getting at the root of everything-you-want-in-life-trials. Yesterday I was surprised by hope. A thankful surprise.
The out pouring from all of you in the comments, facebook messages, emails, texts and phone calls have been overwhelming. We heard Atticus’ name all over the place as so many of you promised to walk with us and camp at the cross in prayer. I know there is a chorus for Attie and we are deeply moved.
I have an appointment with my midwife in 30 minutes and we should get more ultrasound results back by week end.
Also, Catcher is quite taken with the babiest brother now; constantly lifting my shirt and in his baby voice squealing, “hi my baby brother brother Atticus baby brother little boy, hi!”. He then plants big wet kisses all over my belly. And I’m pretty sure Atticus kicks him. Just as a brother should.