By Nellie Edwards at PaintedFaith.com
  “Hey Mark, we’re going to have another baby,” I announced to my
husband after taking a home pregnancy test. We looked at each other, wide-eyed.
We had recently added an orphan boy from Kenya, so we were already a family of
eleven. We shared a strong understanding that each little soul is a gift from
God that will last an eternity. Still, I’d be forty-seven and Mark forty-eight
when this baby was due.

 As we adjusted to the news, I discovered that
our willingness to accept new life led us closer to God. Instead of thinking of things like money,
opinions of others, and our advanced age, we accepted this as a gift.    New life had
begun and would forever be a part of our family.
Just the previous week, my
eight-year-old daughter Teresa, had expressed hope that I would have another
baby. When I pointed out that older
women did not usually have babies, she reminded me that Elizabeth was older
when she had John the Baptist. I just
smiled and said: “You never know.” 
Well, now we knew. The kids were ecstatic. Then, at three months, I
miscarried for the first time.
 I had
some early warnings, so by the time it happened, it was not a surprise. The
enormity of the loss did not really hit me until I was alone at morning Mass a
couple days later.
  Earlier, I had requested that our kids ask God to let us know the sex of the baby. Our oldest, Aaron, suggested I give it a
unisex name and leave it at that.
 “I
would really like to know who it was,” I explained, “so please ask God to
somehow let us know.”
It was just before Mass, two
days after the miscarriage, that I suddenly felt a deep sense of knowing that
the baby had been a boy—Matthew. We
chose that name to go with our Mark, Luke, and John, members of the family.  Realizing we had a son suddenly filled me with
a deep awareness that my very own child was with God now.  I knew there was no greater place to be but
still, a maternal sadness washed over me. Our little son, Matthew, was our only baby that we did not get to hold in our arms.  
I felt sad but was
filled with peace that I had a son in heaven.  Then, after Mass, before leaving for home,
the thought occurred to me that although I was convinced the baby was a boy,
other family members (especially the teens) 
might say: “Mom, you really don’t
know for sure.”  
I sent up a quick prayer.“Dear God, I accept that our son is with you
now, but it would mean a lot to me if you would somehow let the others know that it’s Matthew.”  I wanted my husband to
know his son and the children to have a relationship with a little brother in
heaven.
I kept the morning’s
experience to myself. Then, around an hour later, Aaron called me from Fargo,
where he attended college and was living for the summer. “Mom, I’m in a big hurry, but I just wanted
to call to tell you I know the baby was a boy.”
Aaron had dreamed two nights
in a row about a baby. In the first dream,
a baby had died but he was confused. The
next night, the dream picked up where it had left off. He looked down at the baby, and suddenly knew it was his little brother.  In the
dream he looked at me and we nodded at one another in understanding.
Our family a couple years later; 3 are married now

“Oh, Aaron, I just asked God
this morning to somehow let everyone else know it was a boy.” I explained my
own experience to him, marveling at my answered prayer. My oldest had connected
with my youngest, from heaven to earth. 

There was no time to talk,
however, because Aaron was in a hurry to participate in a study, which paid
very good money to college students. We
said good-bye and I learned the rest of the story later.
Aaron arrived at the study
site only minutes after our conversation. By all rights, he should have been
disqualified during the screening because his heart started racing when his
pulse was taken.  Since, the study had
been overbooked, they were looking for any reason to start bumping
students.  Aaron knew from experience
that an above-normal heart rate was a typical factor used to bump
students.  It was Aaron’s nervousness
that caused his fast heart rate but he could not get himself to calm down. In high school, he usually had the lead in plays and the same thing would happen just before the production got under way.
  Aaron began asking his little brother, Matthew,
to help him. He really needed the
money for expenses. His pulse was taken
two more times, each time measuring faster than the previous rate.
It seemed hopeless. The study
director looked at him and then at the nurse beside him who was recording the
results. “Please Matthew,” Aaron prayed,
“Please help me get into this study.” But Aaron braced himself, waiting to be told he was dismissed. There’s
no way, now
, he thought. 
Looking into Aaron’s eyes,
the director paused and then stated quietly to the nurse:“Let him
in.” The nurse registered surprise. She opened her mouth as if to protest but then
quickly followed the doctor as they went on to the next participant.
A euphoric disbelief and awe
filled Aaron’s heart. It seemed
impossible. He was in!  And it was his little brother that had pulled
strings from heaven  [The next year we did become a family of 12 by taking in the brother of our adopted son from Kenya.]

~~~~~~~~

Note: this story was reprinted from  Big Hearted: Inspiring Stories From Everyday Families For more inspiration, follow Patti at Twitter and Pinterest, like her pages at Dear God Books,  Big Hearted Families,  Catholic News & Inspiration on Facebook, and her author Facebook page.  Sign up at the right column to receive articles in your inbox.  God bless you!

  

                                 

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