Tomorrow, October 30th, is my son Jack's 12th birthday.
The nurses teased me about the name we'd chosen, asking me if his middle name was going to be "Olantern".
To tell Jack's story, I have to go back a couple of years before his birth.
The night of my son Clint's funeral, my husband held my hand and in his grief, told me he wanted another son. I was numb.
From January until July 1993, I struggled through life, working, taking care of my little girl and going to grief counseling. I thought the pain and anger would never fade. It did though, and then we were talking again about another baby.
I set up several strict guidelines and decided we should go for it. On my terms...
The baby would be a girl. Since conception had never been a problem, I would be pregnant by August. But, just in case, I had a plan. If no baby was expected by November, we would cease and wait until spring to try again.
There would be no similarities to Clint's pregnancy, life and death with this baby.
I know God must have been pained by my lack of trust. I had completely removed Him from the equation. I imagine He was troubled as He thought about His words written in Jeremiah 29:11 and my lack of thought about His plans for my future.
As December approached with only negative pregnancy tests, my plan to wait was put into effect.
However, my plan was not God's plan.
I became pregnant in January, while waiting for spring.....with a boy. As an added twist, this little boy was due on Clint's birthday.
This pregnancy was by far, my hardest, emotionally. I had many prenatal tests. The baby would not cooperate. I went back for fetal echocardiograms several times. Finally, he was cleared by the cardiologist.
Jack was born, perfectly healthy, 2 years and 4 days after Clint.
We had our boy. He was beautiful. He still is, inside and out.
I did have one additional lesson to learn about trusting.....
Jack had a heart murmur. A growth murmur, the new pediatrician called it. I stood in her office, clutching my baby son, weeping. I still remember the look on her face. (She didn't know about Clint.) She sent us immediately to the cardiologist. Jack was fine. It was a growth murmur. And he did outgrow it when he was about 6.
There is so much more to Jack's story. I couldn't possibly tell how much he means to me in a hundred of these posts!
He's not perfect. He fights with his siblings. He doesn't always do his school work or clean his room or complete his chores.
But he cares deeply about people. He cries for his lost friends. His heart is full of Jesus.
He's my Jack!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACK!!