Son Three.

I wish those words could leap off the page with my excitement. SON THREE.

I wrote about Son One and Son Two in my last post, having no idea that the very next day I would know for sure about Son Three. So, with what seems like the most beautiful love story, let me start at the beginning…

Last October, my husband and I were starting to realize the adoption just wasn’t moving. We decided, once again, that our current plan wasn’t working for us and, if we ever wanted to try to have a biological child again, it’s always better sooner than later. So, we took the precautionary measures to prepare my body for a healthy pregnancy, and decided to play roulette one more time.

Then, we went on vacation. We saw the world’s most famous art in Rome. We walked alongside the many colors of bougainvilleas in Capri. We ate way too much pasta in Sicily, laughing incredibly around the table with my big, partially-Italian family. We swam in the pristine seas in Greece. We explored Montenegro, Croatia, and Slovenia. We visited the most beautiful basilica in Venice, St. Mark’s, where I, being the crazy Catholic that I am, had an intense moment with Mary, letting her know I knew she – the mother of all – sees the longing of my heart and has the closest connection to her son and his all-knowing divinity. Then, in Florence, the night before a wine tasting trip in Tuscany, I took a pregnancy test that was positive.

I abstained from the wine gladly, and a few weeks later – on our 10th wedding anniversary – we heard the baby’s heartbeat. We continued to have great appointments with our new, amazing doctor, beautiful ultrasounds, and kept the secret from family and friends, mostly, until yesterday. We had early genetic testing at 12 weeks and, at 13 weeks, we found out Son Three was on the way with all the right chromosomes.

Yesterday was the parallel day in my previous pregnancy I found out A.G. didn’t have a heartbeat. I planned an early morning ultrasound yesterday so I could get through the day as smoothly as possible. Despite not sleeping well the night before from nerves, we added “can kick legs over his head” to the list of funny things we’ve seen him do – the list that also includes flutter kicks, holding his hands, and sucking his thumb. Yesterday, my son had a healthy heartbeat and, instead of going to the hospital, I got to go home and make appointments for my 20 week scans.

Today, is my 33rd birthday. As if this fairy tale couldn’t get any sweeter, it did this morning at 3:30am. My husband and I were both restless for no reason we could ascertain, so we started talking. I wanted to tell him that my mom found out my dad was saying a rosary for our son every night at bedtime. (Swoon.) Within a few minutes, I felt a little bubbly sensation where our baby resides. I asked my husband to put his hand on my stomach to see if he could feel it too and he promptly confirmed that he did. Almost everything I have read says that the partner usually cannot feel those little movements from baby at this gestational age, but I guess the night was still enough and the moment was magical enough…clearly, this is a birthday for the record books.

Son Three. SON THREE. Son Three might come home. It’s actually looking probable and, even if he doesn’t, look at all this joy, love, and beauty he has added to my life. Today, we are overwhelmingly grateful. I share this because, after four miscarriages, I hope that it does give some of you working through infertility, losses, shaky adoptions, or all of the above, a glimmer of hope.

I don’t say this lightly. I don’t say this asking you to “just relax” or “be patient.” I intimately know it is not that simple. I also don’t say it asking you to “not give up.” It’s an individual decision to decide when and how it’s all too much. Frankly, I thought I might be there already before October. I just want to say “hope.” That’s all. Chances can be slim, and this Son Three may not even come home, but hope can come back after you’ve thought you lost it completely.