"And I thought I loved you then" - Brad Paisley

Yes, I did it. I quoted a country song.

I'm sitting in Jack's hospital room, worrying. I do that most days. Either in the hospital or out, I worry. My grandmother, my father, my mother, my children, my husband...they all warrant some degree of worrying in my own mind.

I remember when I found out that I was pregnant with Jack. I don't know exactly why I had the pregnancy tests. I don't really remember buying them. Never-the-less, I am having a conversation on the phone about nothing with my sister. I take the test, continue with the conversation, and see a line slowly appear. I shook the test, turned on the light. I even looked at the box to make sure I was reading it correctly. One would think this being my 6th positive test I would have immediately known, but I was still looking for some fault in the test.

I screamed. I literally screamed on the phone and started bawling. This was not the time, not the way things needed to happen. We were in no position to add to our family. My body was not ready to do this again, three and a half months after an emergency c-section to deliver our 28 weeker.

After a lot of pacing, a lot crying and a lot of just staring, I cradled Emery in my arms and took her upstairs to our bed. She slept and I stared at the test.

I took me a very long time to settle into the idea that we would be having another one. I think by about 25 weeks all reality had found a place in different corners of my mind. I was scared to death, my body was NOT cooperating and I was surprised I was still carrying him. I was surprised my body had not already ejected the little one.

I lived in the hospital, in triage and in the doctors office. With all the doubts, the hardships, time away from the girls, bedrest and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness I was hanging onto sanity by a thread.

I wished so much that it wasn't happening, not like that. We wanted time, we needed money. But instead, what we were given was a miracle.

Jack was still just an idea, just a picture on an ultrasound, little hands and feet tapping me from the inside. I didn't let my heart embrace him for fear that I would have to let him go. We almost lost Emery and the thought of loosing a child, no matter the root of their creation, was inconceivable.

On July 23, that little idea became a small, gentle, sweet, beautiful baby boy. Early, but strong. The doctor put him on my chest and I was instantly taken. Any doubt, any dread, any fears - they all washed away in an instant. Clark and I did not have a burden that we could not handle. We had a miracle and we loved him, instantly. Notice a trend? Instant.

So here comes the song..."And I thought I loved you then".

Jack spent about 17 days in the NICU and graduated to a car seat that snapped into our car and carried him home.

The girls were thrilled, we were relieved and ready to begin our life as a family of 5. We lived that way for three days.

On the fourth day, our family was almost shattered forever. Jack had been showing some odd symptoms, was so very tired and couldn't eat. By the time I slide open the door to the van, to bring him into the doctors office and saw his face - he was blue.

Skipping the details, he was life-flighted from our small hospital to a larger one. On his first helicopter ride, his little body could not breath anymore...he had lost all strength. So the angels flying through the sky with my little man bagged him, and kept him alive until they landed.

He was intubated. He was weak. He was so very sick. In essence, he had been dying. The question at that point is which way he would go...death or life.

I, myself, was lifeless. I went through all the times that I cried because I was pregnant. It was like a nightmare replaying itself over and over again in my mind. It's like karma was coming to get me and I was so tired I didn't think I could face it. I didn't know him then, I hadn't seen him - I didn't know how much I loved him. And now, it seemed that I may not get the chance to make it up to him.

I remember trying to find a place on his body to put my lips, put my cheek...just touch him. Even that was hard.

My baby pulled through. Again, he was coming home. But for how long? I felt so blessed to feel his heart, to hear him and to kiss him.

My heart was still broken at that point though. It's like someone ripped it out, tore it to pieces and taped it back together.

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