Forget-me-not

The night our first IVF failed brought searing sadness along with the middle name of our future son.

After returning home defeated, crying ourselves to sleep, and awakening to a porch full of food baskets and neighborly drop-offs Marcy caught us in person and treated us to homemade breadsticks and a mix CD. We ate the breadsticks in about five seconds, grabbed the CD, hopped in the truck, and went to pick RE up from school. Once together we meandered to South Jordan until nightfall and then veered back on I-15 to go home and find a Christmas tree. None of us were speaking and I was sniffling and wiping my eyes every twelve seconds when the mix CD started to play a super spectacular arrangement of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's "Come, Come Ye Saints." We were passing IKEA and I was staring at the Draper bench's illuminated temple when the lyrics proclaimed

We'll find the place that God for us prepared

Far away in the West,

Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid

There the Saints will be blessed.

We'll make the air with music ring,

Shout praises to our God and King;

Above the rest these words we'll tell-

All is well! All is well!

I had a specific, unforgettable guarantee in that moment. The Spirit burrowed into my broken heart and kindled a fire that assured me I would have a baby and it would be the baby God was preparing for us. I knew that despite the current conditions we would be "blessed in the West." We simply had to keep moving Westward. Our baby, emotional safety, joy, and contentment were waiting for us.

That night I chose to believe that God had not forgotten me. I chose to believe that God would yet fulfill His promise to me. And I knew if it was a boy his middle name would be "West."

Last month my sister Cristall painted me a teeny 1 1/2" painting of eight life-sized blue forget-me-nots for my baby gift. I had asked for a painting like this three years prior as a homage to President Uchtdorf's famous forget-me-not talk. She knocked my socks off. With five blue petals and a hidden blue star she symbolized it all; the Lord did not forget His promise to me.

My little Archer West is finally here. Someday I will know why he had to wait 12 years to come to our family. I am certain he has a specific mission to fulfill in his life and that the timing mattered. He had to be born now.

I am sitting on a donut pillow and my body feels like it was shot out of a cannon but I couldn't be happier. I found the West and it is better than anything I could have imagined.

The 4 a.m.-stinging-eyed feeding fills me with glee...God remembered me.

Nursing neck and stiff back never felt better...they are sore from cradling a living promise.

The banshee-like wail that emits from his mouth when he gets changed...music to my ears.

The cooing like a dove as he rests on my chest curled up like a snail...balm of Gilead.

I've washed my hair once and made a to-do list zero times since he was born...and I've never felt more accomplished.

All is well.

Lucky coincidence: Archer was exactly eight pounds and no ounces. There are exactly eight forget-me-nots in the painting.