We're going through the book of John right now in our sermon series at church. This past Sunday we looked at chapter five in which Jesus miraculously heals a man who has been paralyzed for 38 years. But before Jesus heals this man, He asks him this question: "Do you want to get well?"

If Jesus were to ask us any of us this question, it would sound rhetorical. But I think Jesus is looking for something more than the obvious.

He doesn't ask, "Do you want me to change your circumstances?" or "Do you want a quick fix?." He asks the invalid if he wants to get well because Jesus wants to change this man from the inside out. He wants to heal more than his physical suffering. He wants to make him whole - emotionally, spiritually and physically.

I felt the gentle Spirit of God asking the same question of me as I sat in church next to Shaun.

"Do you want a quick solution, or do you want Me to change you where you are right now?"

Secretly, I wish God would just speed this whole process of pregnancy up. I've started to be very purposeful about controlling my anxiety and intentionally bonding with this child, but really I just want to arrive home from the hospital with my baby. I just want to close my eyes and have this agonizing wait be over. And I'm so concerned about tomorrow that I often miss the blessing of carrying this sweet gift today. I'm missing what God has for me right now.

"Do you want to get well?"

Do I truly want God to use every blessing, every heartache, every twist and turn along the way to change me...heal me...make me whole?

Give me eyes to see more of Who You are

May what I behold still my anxious heart

Take what I have known and break it all apart

You, my God, are greater still

No sky contains

No doubt restrains

All You are

The greatness of our God

I spend my life to know

And I'm far from close

To all You are

The greatness of our God

Give me grace to see beyond this moment here

To believe that there is nothing left to fear

That You alone are high above it all

You, my God are greater still

-Greatness of Our God, Natalie Grant

I wish this pregnancy could be as carefree as the last...but it's not. I haven't taken any belly pictures. I haven't started a journal of letters to this child. I panic every time my midwife pulls out the doppler to find a heartbeat at my appointments. Shaun and I haven't discussed baby names or nursery decor...actually, I haven't even walked into the baby room in weeks.

40 weeks feels like it might as well be 40 years right now.

This past weekend we were at a family wedding. As people happily meandered around and music played through the speakers, my eyes caught the form of a little boy 'dancing' on the dance floor. He was adorable... curly blonde hair, dressed in his wedding garb, and totally unsteady on his feet as he waddled around and rolled on the floor. I couldn't help but wonder if that's what my little boy would look like at 13 months...what it would be like to be the mom standing over my toddler to catch him if he fell while busting a move.

A little while later, I was standing next to that little boy's mom waiting for the restroom (no surprise), and she noticed my little baby bump. After sharing that she was pregnant, too, and exchanging all of the standard questions...when are you due, how many weeks along, etc., she asked me if this was my first. Without hesitation, I smiled and said, "yes." It just didn't seem worth the emotional expenditure at that moment to launch into our story, and it hurt.

Because this isn't my first baby. I've been through all of pregnancy and delivery. I've done this before. And I grieve the fact that this child will never know his or her older brother. That this child will be forced to answer questions like, "how many kids are in your family?'..."are you the oldest?", etc. I just realize more and more every day that we can't simply leave our loss behind us...that it's part of our story, part of our family forever.

For the past two months I have been wading through the balance of bold faith and steadfast trust in God's sovereignty. I'm slowly discovering how the two go hand in hand.

I am 15 weeks pregnant. I have hesitated to tell friends and family, and I hesitate to write that even now. To be congratulated feels really strange...I think I'm still very much in denial. Don't get me wrong...I'm so, so thankful. This is something we have prayed for and waited on the Lord for for what seemed like a long time. But, pregnancy is also a huge risk to me now, and to be excited means that I am hopeful, and to be hopeful means that I could end up devastated again.

So, I'm working through how to ask God for a healthy pregnancy and a screaming baby in a few months, but with the knowledge that God's plans are not my own and that, no matter what tomorrow holds, He will walk with us. There are moments that I am overcome with fear and guilt, but for the most part, I have a genuine peace.

Thank you for praying with us in the days and weeks ahead.

Psalm 29:10-11

"The Lord sits enthroned over the flood;

the Lord is enthroned as King forever.

The Lord gives strength to His people;

The Lord blesses His people with peace."

I had an honestly wonderful day yesterday. It felt a little surreal, and at times like I was in the twilight zone. But, as with many "milestone days," the anticipation was much harder than the actual day itself.

On Sunday afternoon we went to the cemetery with our families and close friends and spent some time remembering and praying together and then had a great dinner at my parents' house.

And then yesterday came and I had no idea what to do...it felt like a normal Monday for the most part, so here's what I did: spent some time with a dear friend in the morning and got my hair cut and colored....ran some errands...did some laundry...sat outside in the sun...and went out to a fabulous dinner with Shaun.

I cried once - when I went to open my front door to let some sunshine in and couldn't because our front porch was literally covered in flowers. Oh, and again when I read through the numerous cards that filled our mailbox. Well, and one more time when I watched a video of my 2-year-old nephew sending blue balloons to his baby cousin. Okay. So, I cried a bit. But that disgusting ache didn't hang over me like a dark cloud all day. Sure, I missed my boy. But I miss him every day. And I know that we had an army of people praying for us and missing him with us. I went to bed last night just feeling incredibly blessed and loved...and relieved, I guess. I have made it through the hardest year of my life so far...and I'm okay. I had the lyrics of a song that I sang Sunday at church going through my mind all day:

"When my world is shaking

Heaven stands

And when my heart is breaking

I never leave Your hands."

-JJ Heller, Your Hands

Thank you for continuing to love us and pray for us. Thank you for reminding me regularly that you think about our boy, and that because of him, your life is different. It means more than you will ever know.

Praise God that through every season of life He is the same and He is good! We never leave His hands.

One year ago I was waiting for you...eager, exhausted.

My ribs on the right side were bruised from your not-so-little feet. If I wanted to roll over in bed, I had to wake your dad up to help me. I waddled everywhere I went. And I couldn't wait until you arrived...you were already late, after all.

The carseat was strapped in to the back seat of the car. Our bags were packed in the trunk. Your room was as ready as it could be since we didn't yet know whether you were a boy or a girl. The list of people to call/text/invite to the hospital was compiled. All we had to do was wait.

If I had known that the wait to know you would be the length of my lifetime on this earth, I probably wouldn't have been so antsy. If I had known you would be born into the hands of the almighty God, I probably wouldn't have worried about getting a manicure that weekend. And if I had know that we would celebrate your first birthday at a cemetery rather than taking home video of you eating your cake, I don't know if I would have survived that weekend.

I miss you so much, baby boy. I know you're having a great time, but my heart aches for you. It feels like we said goodbye just yesterday.

Zachary, as we celebrate your birthday without you, please know that I love you so much. Please know that you have opened my heart in a way I didn't know possible. Please know that your room is still full of your pictures and your diapers. I just can't seem to get myself to put it all away. Not a moment goes by that I don't think about you. I will never forget you...I can't. I bear the scars on my tummy from carrying you and a gaping hole in my heart.