That's all I can really say after the past 4 weeks of chaos. Actually, after the past 9 months of chaos. It's been a whirlwind. It's been pretty foggy at times. But through it all I have experienced some of the greatest blessings to date.
And for me, it all came in the form of one tiny little human.
This boy.
Cohen Jeffrey Shamblin.
My son.
A gift.
From my loving and gracious Father.
To my heart and to my life.
Words cannot possibly express what this boy's short life on this earth has meant to me. But I must proclaim, I must shout from the rooftops, I must attempt to put into coherent sentences what God has done in this mama's heart because of him.
I didn't have the easiest introduction to motherhood. No first time mom dreams of their firstborn child being born with a birth defect. No mom at all for that matter. Nobody wants to miss out on their child's birth due to complications and to have to wait months to hold their son for the first time. And certainly, no one wishes to spend days, weeks, and months away from their fragile newborn baby.
It's a rough start. Let's face it. And as much as I love my firstborn son with all of my heart, I do not love the way in which he had to come into this world. I don't love the brokenness and the pain that came from it. I don't love the wide open wounds that were left behind. I just don't.
This world is ugly. It is full of hurt. Hudson knows that well already. I do too. It is no secret to our family and is a reality that will be spoken of frequently and openly. Not because we want to be Debbie-downers, but because it is only through our understanding of the brokenness of this world that we can truly experience the life-altering and healing power of God's redemptive work in it.
That's what my second born son has been in my life. Redemption. A little piece of my Father's love, grace, protection, and understanding for the wounds I have experienced thus far in motherhood.
Now before I go any further, please do not misunderstand. Hudson was just as much a gift to our lives as Cohen has been. We love and cherish ALL that he is and will continue to be. But just as each child is different, I believe that we can learn different lessons through each child as well. I believe God reveals himself in a new way. Speaks to our hearts differently. Uniquely. With each life that blesses ours.
And the fact of the matter is, the gift of Cohen's life has brought me healing. In more ways than I can count. And for that, I am thankful.
It all started back when we first talked about wanting a second child. After our experience with Hudson, I must say I was a little scarred and was unsure if I was even going to have more biological children because of it. I didn't want to risk it. Didn't want to take the chance of something happening again. I didn't think I could handle it a second time. I didn't want to handle it a second time. And yet, through all of this fear, there was a still small voice inside my heart.
One that whispered... Be Still. Be Still and know that I am God. Be Still and know I Am.
And so I was. I was still. I surrendered. I stopped trying to control what my family looked like. It wasn't mine to control. I knew that. He taught me that. And so I let go.
8 months later, I was pregnant. And we were moving back into my parents house because Clint had lost his job. Not exactly ideal. But through all of my fear, I heard that still small voice inside my heart once again.
Be Still. Be Still and know that I am God. Be Still and know I Am.
And so I was. I was still. Well, as still as I could be at this point. I'm not gonna lie. I squirmed a little bit here. The situation was looking all too familiar. We had been here before. We had been jobless and pregnant not 2 years ago when we found out about Hudson. Everything in me wanted to flee. Wanted to take back my surrendered heart. Wanted to tell God that I could do it better. That my plans were far superior to His. But instead, I sat in the arms of my Father. I sat silently. I sat still. Even when I wasn't happy about it.
20 weeks later, I was walking into the same ultrasound room where we found out about Hudson's Spina Bifida. I was anxious to say the least. I had knots in my stomach. I almost couldn't breathe. I closed my eyes and begged God to give me peace. And he did. With that still small voice saying exactly what I needed to hear.
Be Still. Be Still and know that I am God. Be Still and know I Am.
With each time this phrase was whispered to the inner darkness of my heart, I felt a little bit of healing. I felt my wounds closing up. I felt free. Free to enjoy the tiny little life growing inside of me. Free to love him no matter what. And free from the bondage of hanging on every word the doctors would say.
When the doctor came in that day to tell me my son looked 'perfect' I felt relief. But honestly, the true relief came far before that. It came in the waiting room when I chose not to worry. When I chose to believe that my Father was sitting right there with me, reassuring me that no matter what happened He was still God, and I was not.
And then we fast forward another 3 months, when we made the choice to move to Portland knowing this tiny little baby would be just 2 weeks old. Knowing that if there were any complications with his health, we would be heading to a new state, with new health insurance, and absolutely no support from family and friends nearby. Not knowing where our income would be coming from. Not knowing when exactly the baby would come. Not knowing where we were going to live. Pretty much knowing nothing but the fact that we had to go. We just had to. Because we felt the urgency of our call. We felt a conviction so deep in our core that we couldn't ignore it.
This is when I could have absolutely lost it (and did a couple times). Because this was never part of my plan. I wanted my little boy to be safe. I wanted to make sure he had proper health insurance. I wanted to make sure he was healthy and strong before making plans to uproot our entire family. I wanted him to grow up with his family, with his cousins, with our friends. I wanted to be in control of it all!!! And yet, when I sat in the corner of my room in tears, feeling helpless and so unsure...my God kept whispering. He kept shouting at me until I would listen.
Haley, my daughter; Be Still. Be Still and know that I am God. Be still and know I am.
And so I lifted up my little boy into the Father's capable arms once again. Knowing he was much safer there than he ever would be in mine.
2 months later, my due date had arrived. And sure enough I found myself in the hospital with contractions coming 3-5 minutes apart. Our son was on his way. Clint and I had made the decision that I was going to forego a C-section as well as an epidural for my delivery. We wanted things to be different this time around. I didn't want to miss out on my son's birth. Clint and I wanted to experience our little guy coming into this world together. With him by my side, as my coach. Talking me through contractions. Breathing alongside me. Offering me water. Taking me to the bathroom. My amazing husband was willing to do it all.
And by the time I was about 5 hours into labor and my water had broken, boy did I need him by my side!! The pain was intense. Breathing through the contractions became harder. Screaming through them was a much more natural response :) There were moments I wanted to give up. There were moments when the pain felt unbearable. When I thought of abandoning our plan and instead crying out for the epidural. But through it all, my heart was at peace. Because again, my Father was there. Right there. Walking me through the pain one step at a time.
Be Still. Be Still and know that I am God. Be Still and know I am.
We had come on quite a journey, He and I. And I wasn't about to stop now. Not when I was moments away from meeting my son.
And so, just when I thought I couldn't expend one more ounce of energy. Just when I thought I couldn't push one more time. I did. I pushed. And I fought. And I struggled. I listened to my husband's excited voice as he saw our son slowly coming into the world. I thought about seeing my son for the first time. I imagined his little body. His tiny cry. I used this as motivation to continue on.
And sure enough, after 12 long hours and one final push, Cohen came swooping into my arms. A moment I had dreamed about for so long. Getting to hold my baby boy within seconds of his time on this earth. I sat in disbelief, staring at him as he laid on my body. He was there. With me. I looked to my right and saw my husband. There. With me.
Words cannot express the joy this moment brought. At 12:11pm on July 12, 2013, my Father gave me an incredible gift. One that felt so special and unique to me. It's as if he wanted to show me that he knew the desires of my heart. That they mattered to Him. He saw the wounds and scars I carried with me, and for the past 9 months was showing me that he alone heals. And he alone redeems. I felt that in this moment come to completion. And my undeserving heart was so full.
Since his birth, Cohen has continued to bless not only my life, but our entire family's. Clint and I have talked about how much closer we feel as a couple because of going through Cohen's birth together. United as one. Our precious son gave us the opportunity to experience something together we may never get to again.
And as far as Hudson goes, he doesn't want to go anywhere without 'baby brother.' He is enamored with him. I can see their little relationship forming even now. I can see the bond they will share. The way they will love and protect each other. I couldn't have given a more perfect gift to Hudson. Just what he needed. Right when he needed it. What should have brought a lot of insecurity into his life, actually seems to have brought about more peace. During a time of being unsettled with a big move and so much changing, it's as though Hudson feels more comfortable and at home with Cohen by his side.
Cohen, this family would not be the same without you. You are a blessing in every sense of the word.
Love you to pieces my littlest monster.
