I remember the day so vividly. It was a chilly fall day and my husband and son were both home with the day off. We had family pictures that evening and I suddenly thought how exciting it would be to find out the gender of our baby before that photoshoot. If we could find out, we would surprise the kids with a confetti cannon while getting our pictures done. So I quickly scheduled the ultrasound before the photos. Nothing can come close to describing how we felt when we found out this sweet baby was a girl. She was so wanted.

We would have loved this baby either way, but there was a deep longing inside of us for one more girl. Elyse had been praying consistently for a baby sister before I was even pregnant and to know God answered her prayer was special. We shot that confetti cannon off and as the pink paper shimmered through the air the joy on the kids’ faces was priceless. I’ll never forget the squeals and reactions that day brought.

And I’ll never forget how much we didn’t know was coming…

Our sweet baby girl was born on April 14, 2020 in the middle of a pandemic. I remember the anxiety the weekend leading up to her scheduled C-Section being completely overwhelming. I remember something just feeling so off. I contributed it to the fact that I was giving birth in the middle of a Pandemic and nothing can ever prepare you for that. But our sweet baby girl came into this world so very sick. She had a stroke around the time of birth because of the stress her body was in and we truly almost lost her. I often think of the people in the room that day, the people involved in her first few hours of life, and am overwhelmed with gratefulness that they saw what no one else did and saved my baby girl.

I’m often reminded of the emotions of the day we found out I was indeed carrying a baby girl, the indescribable joy that followed. How wanted this baby girl was. How much of a treasure she is. And I am brought back to that day when I remember the last six months as some of the hardest months of my life.

The days following Evelynn’s birth were some of the hardest. I’ve walked the block when it comes to trauma. I’ve had my fair share of breakdowns, out of body experiences, and complete defeat…but nothing prepares you for the traumatizing moments of wondering if your baby girl is going to live. Many days I couldn’t physically stand beneath everything that was coming at me. It felt like a house had been dropped on me and I was left to dig myself out amidst the crumbling bricks. It was suffocating.

Each day I woke up these last six months I was met with so many thoughts and worries. I was overwhelmed with all the boxes to check and things to keep in line. Managing medicine, doctor appointments, schedules, and therapy while simultaneously watching closely for every milestone, every tremor, every possible seizure, or anything to be concerned about. Then in the middle of it all being a mom to three other children, running a home, and still greeting my husband at the door when he came home with something more than a desperate plea for help. Every day felt exhausting. Every day felt like I was being buried alive. Every day I didn’t know how I was going to keep moving forward. But every day I did.

Every day I took another step. Every day I carried all those things and took a step forward. And then another. And another. Until I fell into bed that night incredibly exhausted to wake up the next day and take another step. And another. I just did it because I had no choice but to. I had to keep moving forward because life had to go on. This sweet baby had to be taken care of. My other kids needed their mama. I had no choice but to step forward through the fog.

And here I am six months later looking back and realizing how much I overcame. How much each step along this journey made a difference and brought me right here…to six months with her. I didn’t know how I would make it even one more day when the weight of everything felt so heavy. With every step I took I wondered how I was supposed to handle just one more thing. Then one day, I looked up from the fog and realized I was standing there six months later.

Beaten.

Bruised.

Exhausted.

Alive.

In the hospital I cried out to God and asked Him, “What are you doing? Why is this happening to my baby?” while shaking and trembling as the ground beneath me felt like it was shattering. I’ll never forget how helpless I felt in that moment. I’ll never forget how hard it was to breathe. Each day over the last six months was a fight…

But I wasn’t fighting alone.

The enemy had a plan for my sweet girl, but God had an even bigger plan. God took everything the enemy meant for evil and harm in my daughter’s life and used it for His glory. He performed miracle after miracle where even the Doctors were wondering how she was going home so soon. He’s continued to astound us as every milestone is reached and tests come back with surprising findings. She’s presented as a constant mystery…yet I am reminded that every part of her is known by One.

She isn’t a mystery to Him. Every day of hers has already been planned and laid out and nothing has surprised Him yet.

So, here I sit. I look up from the fog of the last six months and see that I am alive. But I’m much more than alive.

I’m better than I was six months ago. God has used every bit of the last six months for His glory. He never once let any second go to waste.

God has shown me what it means to see the church outside of four walls. God has shown me where to find strength when my physical body literally can’t take another step. When I was barely able to breathe, God breathed into me. When I couldn’t stand, He sent people to lift me up. God has taught me to advocate and be confident in the things He has called me to as a mother. God has given me a voice to fight for my daughter.

God has given me a voice to fight for myself.

Six months with her has looked nothing like I could have ever imagined, but six months with her has changed so much for the better.

And God isn’t finished yet.

(Photography Credit in this post goes to Delighted Soul Photography)