#marshall james

           I think I’ve tried a thousand times to tell everyone about my dearest and most life changing secret. After a lot of talking with Father, now is the time.  This may be long or may be short, who knows.  I’m sorry if anyone thinks this isn’t the way to go about telling everyone about this but this is the only way I can do it and not get emotional about it in front of people.

           About seven years ago in February of 2010 I was 22 going on 23.  I was so young and thought I knew everything.  Not even close. I know now I knew nothing. I loved hanging out with my friends all the time and loved my small job at the time.  But lets back up a bit shall we.

           About a year before I met a guy. I won’t say his name because he is not a large part of the story but however, he is an important component without which this story could never have happened. I thought I loved him to pieces. Our small friendship grew and before we knew it we found ourselves a year later in 2010.

           Like most of these stories go friendship grew into something more. Not love but something more than friends.  We made an unwise choice only one time and on February 28th of 2010 three tests and many tears later, I found myself pregnant. I was going to be a mom.

           Now let’s all take that in for a moment much like I had to.  I took three tests just to be sure the first wasn’t a fluke. My best friends Heather and Kym both confirmed that what I was in fact seeing a little blue plus sign three times. I stood in the bathroom at Kym’s parent’s house and surrounded by my two best friends and two dogs and a cat I sat on the toilet seat and cried and Heather held me.

           I had no clue what I was going to do. I made minimum wage at a part time job and was still living with my parents. I prayed and talked to my friends Kym and Heather and the general conclusion we all came to was that this child would be surrounded by more love and support than it could ever want or need.

           I remember going to my pastor at the time and telling him I was pregnant and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I thought that everyone was going to disown me and kick me out of my church that I grew up in. My pastors words to me were “Emily these people have watched you grow up and have loved you and promised to guide you on your journey in your faith. There is no way I can see them not loving you anymore.”  We prayed together and cried together and his final words to me were “and don’t you dare call this a mistake. Every child is a blessing from God.”

           Fast forward about eight weeks later. It’s now April and I’m now fully sure I’m pregnant because of a series of funny and scary stories that I’ll tell maybe another time. On April 18th 2010 my world changed forever. I went to the bathroom one morning and discovered I had lost my baby.  I will not go into graphic detail but yes I was sure I had lost it. This was the greatest heartache I have ever and will ever experience in my life. My child was dead at eight weeks.  

           Fast forward again on October 30th 2010 and I had a dream that night.  I was K-mart of all places sitting in the furniture section on a recliner just like the one my Nana had when I was little. I looked up and around the corner here comes my Pawpaw Ben toward me and he was holding the hand of a beautiful boy who looked to be about one year old.  I ran and hugged my Pawpaw and he told me he had someone I needed to meet that wanted to meet me very badly. “Emily this is your son.” He said. “My son? How do you know about my baby?” I asked. “Are you kidding kid I was there when he decided to go home to heaven.” He said. “I have a son!” I screamed. I went down on my knees and hugged my son for the first time. His first words to me were “Hi Momma. You’re pretty.”  The only thing I could say back was “I love you so much!”  “I know.” He said.

           He had light red hair and brown eyes with a little bit darker skin than mine and freckles on his cheeks and nose. I saw him and immediately understood my parent’s and God’s love for me. “What’s your name?” I asked. “You haven’t given me one yet Momma.” He said. And I woke up.

           When I woke up I knew what I was going to name him Marshall James Donaldson. Marshall for Jimi Hendrix (James Marshall Hendrix) and James for my Great Grandfather James Lewis who fought for his country in the U.S. Navy in WWII.  I wasn’t going to give him his father’s last name for reasons you can probably guess for yourselves.