I first published this true story four years ago. I hope you enjoy it! HIS NAME IS BEN We started home-schooling when our three children were ages five, three, and one. I enjoyed having the children home all the time! But I was a very busy stay-at-home Mother, and three children were all I needed. Besides, with each pregnancy Id gotten sicker (still), and I didn’t want any more of that! So Michael and I decided we were done having children. Every day we started school with prayer and Bible reading. After reading the Bible I would ask if the children had any prayer requests. When they were ages nine, seven, and five somehow it became a contest to see who could raise their hand first. The prayer request was always the same: A baby brother. Inwardly I chuckled and shook my head. When they prayed out loud they’d ask God for a baby brother. (They were young, what did they know?) This continued for a year or more. Sarah (our oldest) decided for whatever reason that a baby brother wouldn’t be that much fun. Mike Jr. (our youngest) realized that a baby brother would have to sleep in his bedroom, and he DIDN’T want that, so he quit asking also. Stephanie, however, never stopped asking. Over the next year she’d always put in the ‘baby brother’ request, and sometimes her siblings would even verbally chastise her: “Stephanie, would you stop asking!? It’s not going to happen!” At times Steph would even try to nail me down, asking why we couldn’t have another baby. I was always vague, and non-committal about the whole subject. She had the same amount of success when discussing it with her father. In the summer of ’05 while shopping, we happened to bump into a home-schooling friend of ours. She glowingly reported that she was pregnant with her fifth child. Well, that was all Stephanie needed! All the way home she begged: “Oh, Mom, you could get pregnant too, and then you and Mrs. Frost could be pregnant together!” It was clear that she couldn’t figure out why I didn’t share her enthusiasm for the idea. (Stephanie was only nine years old, what did she know?) I said: “Stephanie, you grow up and get married, then God will give you a baby boy.” To which she replied: “No, Mom, I want a baby boy NOW! YOU give me a baby brother!” On January 21, 2006 Mrs. Frost delivered a healthy boy, and named him Ethan. I made food and took it over to the Frost home. Of course, our children went with me. That day Stephanie got to see, smell, touch and hold little Ethan. I knew I was going to be in trouble, but there was nothing I could do. (The children went with me everywhere.) Sure enough, we were hardly out of their drive-way headed home, and Steph started in: “Oh Mom, I’ve just GOT to have a baby!” She was almost in tears: “Please, Mom, can’t you get pregnant, PLEEEASE?!?” By now Sarah & Mike were tired of the whole process: “Steph, would you stop!?! Mom’s NOT going to have a baby!!” At home Steph became more relentless than ever. She prayed every day in school for a baby, and then in her night-time prayers repeated the same request. I was just plain annoyed. One day, while I was working in the kitchen, she was begging for a baby again. Finally I couldn’t stand it any more: “Stephanie!” I said in my firmest voice, “God is NOT going to give us ANY MORE CHILDREN!” By the tone of my voice, she knew the matter was not up for discussion any more. She burst into tears and ran out of the room, totally heart-broken. A couple of months later we left the children with their grandparents in Syracuse and went to Michael’s work-related convention in Tennessee. While we were there I noticed I was unusually tired, and emotional. I chalked it up to all the extra work that vacations require. In a few days we flew back to Syracuse to pick up our children, and start the drive home. The day before we were to leave I was in the bedroom, feeling unusually sick to my stomach. Michael walked in and noted right away that I was looking pale. “Are you sick?” He whispered. “I’m trying really hard not to be.” I replied. His face took on a look of total shock and disbelief: “You’re pregnant, aren’t you!?!” I gulped: “I’m trying really hard not to be!” (It was the over-the-top emotional behavior that had tipped him off.) The day after we got home I bought a pregnancy test. I was sure it would come back negative. The strip came out with mixed reviews. I was sure that meant ‘no’. I called the help-line listed in the packaging. The ‘nice’ lady on the other end said: “Oh, Ma’am, if you have even a hint of that color, you’re pregnant!” I was sure she was wrong. A few days later I called my physician, who was also an OB/GYN. By now I had a lot of symptoms, which I listed to the nurse. Her response was: “Well, with all those symptoms, we’ll just make an appointment for a check-up when you’re three months along.” I retorted right back: “Oh NO!! I want a pregnancy test!!” (I was still sure I WASN’T pregnant!) When I arrived at my appointment a week later the symptoms still hadn’t gone away. I was starting to realize with utter disbelief that I might really be pregnant. I waited in the examination room for the Dr. to come in. She was chuckling as she walked in with the test results: “So, what happened?” she asked. I stared at her, hoping I didn’t understand her correctly: “You mean, it’s positive?” I was sick for the next eight months. I slept a LOT, and my stomach was upset almost constantly. Our children had to be quiet for hours at a time while I slept. When I layed down during the day they would cover me up and sing this song: “Go to sleep, go to sleep, close your big blood-shot eyes….” Later I’d hear them in the other room, making noise. Then Stephanie would shush them: “Shhhh, you have to be quiet! Mommy’s baby is growing, and she needs her rest!” (Soon after we told the children I was pregnant, Stephanie said that she’d been praying harder than EVER that I’d have a baby!) Stephanie talked about the baby incessantly. We grew weary of her constant, excited chatter. She even found a book about pre-natal development, and devoured every word. Reports from Stephanie about ‘our’ baby’s growth stages were a common occurrence at the supper table. She wanted to see my ‘belly’ all the time. She wasn’t content to see the outline through my blouse, she wanted to see ‘the baby’. I couldn’t stand this 24/7 discussion of my rounding belly, and of the baby’s growth. I was so sick, I had very little patience for this incessant banter. Out of desperation I told her she could only discuss the baby with me once a week. She tried so hard, but it was a Herculean effort for her to suppress her enthusiasm. Finally one day she was sitting beside me on the couch while we were discussing school, and I could see she was extremely frustrated. Upon questioning she finally blurted out through hot, frustrated tears: “Mom, I just want to see what your belly looks like!” I realized then that I hadn’t begun to understand her complete love for ‘our’ baby. With this new insight, I worked a lot harder to be patient with her. Stephanie repeatedly promised that she would help when the baby came. She started keeping a running count to my due date, which was January 28th. At the seven-month mark, I had a sonogram and got a good look at the baby’s face. He looked just like the other three. I told the technician I didn’t want to know the gender, but somehow I knew: If God would give Stephanie the baby she desired so much, then surely He’d give her a boy! Waking up on January 21st, I knew: “This is the day.” Michael woke the children, and told them. A friend came to stay with the children, and we went off to the hospital. But the baby was in no hurry. Finally he was born ‘naturally’ in the early afternoon. His head and shoulders were so big, the Dr. struggled with the delivery. Sure enough, it was the boy Stephanie had prayed for. Benjamin was born on the same day as Ethan Frost, the baby Stephanie had held and pined over just one year before. Up until two and a half years ago I told this story to illustrate God hears even the youngest of prayers. AND He has a wonderful sense of humor!! But this story has taken on a different light since my husband Michael was killed instantly in an accident in May ‘07. You see, at first I thought Ben was Stephanie’s baby. She DID help tremendously with him, often sacrificing her own time to aid in his care. Then I decided Ben had been given for my husband. They absolutely adored each other, spending every available moment together. But now I see Ben was given for me. When Michael died our three other children were 18, 20 and 22. I could have fooled myself into believing that they could make it without me. But Ben was only ten years old. There was no way I could give up in this life, because he needed me. Every day I HAD to figure out how to keep going, how to keep my head on straight. God has a perfect plan, every day, all the time. We don’t understand it, but that doesn’t diminish its perfection! I thank God for Ben, and that Stephanie prayed without wavering. Because of her prayers, I have a son who has his father’s bone build, hair and eye color. I’m so thankful to God that I have a son who reminds me of his father!
Posted on: Sun, 17 Nov 2013 03:53:16 +0000
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