My Christmas Miracle

At this moment, I have a baby asleep in my lap. My baby! That simple fact still amazes me every day.

I apologize for falling off the face of the blog world. Life got busy. And then my son came into this world, and life got really busy.

I'm deficient in posts -- about 10 months deficient. So, here is the very simplified run down.

The rest of my pregnancy was filled with wild cravings for spaghetti and meatballs.

At 20 weeks, I found out the stork was bringing a package wrapped in blue. I'm not going to lie to you -- I struggled with that at first. I had already planned out a future with a daughter, who I would shop with and take to dance class. I wasn't prepared for a son. I promise to write more about that later, in case someone else stumbles upon this blog who is feeling a little gender disappointment. But the amazing piece to pass along is, regardless of whether you can imagine yourself with a baby of a certain gender, the minute he (or she) is placed in your arms, you forgot you ever wanted anything other than what is exactly in front of you.

My son entered this world on Christmas morning. And he is, and will remain for the rest of my life, the best Christmas present I have ever been given.

I remember a few years ago being told by a counselor I was seeing while struggling with infertility, that she knew a woman who had gone through three IVFs and had decided she was done -- she just couldn't do it again. Her husband asked her to give it just one more try. He had a feeling. They went through one more round, and low and behold, she got pregnant. That year, on December 25th, she gave birth to a son. They called it a Christmas miracle. When this story was told to me, I would never have imagined that two Christmas' later, I would be welcoming my own Christmas miracle into this world.