I Thought Our Family Was Complete

After we had Noah, Brady and I had long conversations about what our family would look like. We had walked through a lot to get there — physically, emotionally, spiritually. Then our doctor gently told us that another pregnancy wouldn’t be a good idea.

I remember sitting with that information and feeling… peace.

We had been through six pregnancies in five years. Weary in body and in spirit after two miscarriages and a full term stillbirth.

I truly believed in my heart that our family was complete. I looked at Brady, at our children, and the life we had built, and thought, and felt completely at home.

There was no devastation or longing, just peace.

We folded up the baby clothes with finality and closed that chapter of our lives with gratitude.

⸻

The Surprise We Never Planned

Then Ara.

Unexpected. Unplanned. But not unwanted.

When I saw that positive test, it wasn’t instant joy.

There was shock, fear, and wrestling.

I had to come to terms with the fact that the neat, carefully folded plan we had for our family was being unfolded again.

I had to grieve the picture I thought was final.

That’s something we don’t talk about enough — you can be grateful and grieving at the same time. You can love what’s coming and still mourn what you thought would be.

Experiencing pregnancy again was difficult. Old trauma resurfaced. Emotions I thought healed bubbled back up. There were days I was sure I wasn’t strong enough to go on.

But then she arrived.

And everything shifted.

⸻

The Baby Who Healed My Heart

Ara didn’t just join our family.

She softened it.

She healed parts of me I didn’t know were still tender. Reminded me how sacred the little years are. How holy the rocking chair at 2 a.m. can be. How fleeting the weight of a sleeping baby on your chest truly is.

Our family was complete again. I’m 36. Brady and my oldest turn 40 and 15 this year.

Over the last two years we’ve walked through surprise, surrender, and the intense difficulty of another post-loss pregnancy. And we were rewarded with this precious, joyful, little person who feels like she was always meant to be here.

I thought the story had reached its final chapter.

⸻

And Yet…

Ara is one year old now.

And lately, something has been stirring in my heart.

It’s subtle. Gentle. Not loud or dramatic. Just a quiet nudge.

The kind that doesn’t come from anxiety or pressure.

The kind that feels… like God.

I don’t know what it means yet.

I just know that the certainty I once had about being “done” isn’t quite as certain anymore.

And if there’s anything I’ve learned through Noah, through Ara, through every plan that didn’t unfold the way I thought it would — it’s this:

My timeline has never been in my control.

Every time I’ve tightly gripped what I thought was best, God has gently shown me something better. Something deeper. Something I couldn’t have orchestrated on my own.

⸻

Holding Plans With Open Hands

Maybe we are done.

Maybe we aren’t.

Maybe this stirring is just a reminder to live open-handed.

I used to think strength meant certainty. Now I think strength looks more like surrender.

If God is writing another chapter for our family, it will be one filled with grace for the hard parts, healing for the old wounds, and joy we didn’t see coming.

He has been faithful in every season — in the planned and the unplanned.

And if He’s not finished yet…

Then maybe neither are we.