When I pray…oh my sweet babies, how I’ve prayed for them…all five of them, fervent, heartfelt prayers! 

My sweet Sarah, my prayers for you started with two pink lines.  You were all the hopes and dreams I was told I’d never be able to have.  Such a sweet bundle of joyful girl you’ve been in this mama’s life!

Then there were the years, three long years, where I wondered if we’d ever have more.  I prayed.  I prayed and I prayed and I prayed.  Others prayed, too.  Sometimes it felt like my prayers fell on deaf ears because the answer seemed to daily be “No”. 

Faith Leanne…the day I felt like my prayers were answered, that all my hopes and dreams were finally coming true…that was the day I started praying for you.  I prayed and I prayed and I prayed.  Three months I prayed and praised God for the sweet life inside of me. 

Then we prayed nine days of desperate prayers, pleading with the Father in Heaven to perform a miracle.  When the answer given was a resolute, “No,” we learned that tears are prayers, too.

Reese Day, our prayers of desperation for you started the moment we found out about you, gone before we even knew you were there.  Wynn Shalom, “Lord isn’t the third time a charm?”  But those prayers again left us with empty arms. 

Heartbroken and grieving, hope seemed lost.  My prayers turned to cries for my oldest daughter’s heart, that this would not break her, and she would not turn her heart away from you, that hope would remain in her woman-child heart even though it seemed lost in my own. 

Then came the day…oh Lord, the day my faith shall be sight, not just in Heaven but here on Earth too!  The day the sickness had to be more than just a little bit of motion.  The baby I hadn’t planned for came crashing into my life and oh little man, truly, “Every word I whisper is a prayer for me too.”

When my sweet little man firmly made his appearance known with every nauseous moment, every strong kick, every week and month that passed by safely, I truly practiced the instructions from 1 Thessalonians to “Pray without ceasing” and I prayed, morning, noon, and night.  I prayed at every turn.  I prayed for God to give me the strength to handle whatever was going to happen with this baby.  I even prayed for God to take the baby sooner than later if He was going to take this one away too.

I prayed in the ambulance up the freeway to a bigger hospital with a NICU at 24.5 weeks, water broken and hope teetering on the edge of lost.  I prayed for nineteen days in the hospital as I watched your heartbeat on the fetal monitor and laughed with joy as you kicked each time they tried to monitor you from inside my belly.

I prayed as the labor started again, twenty-seven weeks and two days in.  I prayed as they prepped my body for a c-section.  I prayed as they pulled you from the safety of my womb, nestled below my heart.  I prayed rejoicing prayers as I heard your little kitten-like cry and prayed fervently as they stitched me back together.

I prayed over your tiny, three-pound body as you continued to fight, because my wild boy, you are so very strong, bolstered by the prayers of this mama heart for the past six years.  I prayed as we kangaroo-ed, you napping against my chest for hours at a time.  I prayed each time you’d gain an ounce.  I prayed the first night I left the hospital without you and I prayed even harder when they called me that night to tell me something might be wrong with your intestines. 

I called on prayer warriors who fervently stormed Heaven with requests on your behalf, hundreds of people around the country and the world even, praying for you, my sweet smiley boy. 

I prayed for your sister, too, separated from mommy and daddy for weeks and weeks.  I prayed that this would make her stronger and that God’s hand would be evident in all pieces of this time.

For 87 days I prayed for your little life, prayed for you to come home soon, prayed for our family to finally be all together under one roof.  I prayed for you to breathe on your own and I prayed for you to eat on your own.  I prayed for you to regulate your own temperature and I prayed that you would not suffer long term effects from prematurity.  I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. 

After 106 days of our family being separated by hospitals and emergencies, we prayed rejoicing prayers as Killian Robert (Killian means “small and fierce”) came home to us.  I prayed rejoicing prayers as he avoided sickness and hit every milestone on time or early.  I prayed rejoicing prayers when the pediatricians thought they had the wrong file for the baby that was in front of them, there was no way this could be a preemie. 

Today, my prayers are joyful and hopeful again, prayers for my children’s day to day and prayers for their future.  Still, they are a prayer for me, too.  And there’s three sweet babies in Heaven praying over me, too.

I had the opportunity to be on the launch team for When I Pray for You, by Matthew Paul Turner, receiving an advance copy, and I thought it would be fun and I’d get a free book for my kids.  Then the book came…I can’t even look at the pictures without it absolutely dissolving me into tears.  I immediately ordered the rest of his books (including an additional copy of When I Pray for You) and I cannot get enough of his books!  We’re reading them regularly and I’m reading them to my Sunday School classes.  Highly recommend!