Hi friends,

My husband got me this thing called Storyworth (I swear this isn’t an advertisement).

Each week, it sends me a question to respond to—and at the end of the year, it compiles those answers into a book.

It feels like a really sweet gift for this moment in our life. A way of capturing the first year of our baby’s life as it’s actually unfolding.

The question he asked me this week was: Do you believe in miracles?

I had to look up the definition of a miracle to get started. According to the internet, it sounds like a miracle is something so unlikely to happen that, when it does, something Divine must be involved.

Which made me think:

How likely was it for us to bring this baby into the world?

First, we’d have to take into account the likelihood that either of us were ever born. Which then traces us back to all of our ancestors—all the way down to the smallest organisms, like protozoa.

Then, the likelihood we’d ever meet.

Marriages and divorces around the same time.
A professional lacrosse team moving south.
A heartbreaking loss to the woman you thought you’d marry.
Someone who said she’d never get on Bumble creating a profile.
Both of us opening an app to find someone at a time that surpassed my settings of dating men only within the perimeter.
You not being scared away, despite my best attempts to show you the weirdest parts of myself right off the bat.

And it could have been just another first date in a string of many.

But for us, each feeling a spark—and then committing time to nurturing the flames.
You not being turned off by an ever-present little boy, and in fact stepping in to be the dad he needs.
Driving distances.
Showing up for the uncertain.
Risking getting hurt again.
Making out in my kitchen.
Daring to dream, even though life had shattered each of us at times in the past.
Growing together.
Moving in together.
Building a home together.
Surviving hard seasons together.
You getting down on one knee.
My saying yes.

And all of that before we even started trying to have a baby.

Being a little older, there’s roughly a 10% chance I’d get pregnant each cycle—even if we nailed my ovulation window. We tried for many cycles, and it was trying. And it could have made us give up.

But we didn’t. And we did conceive.

But then, even more challenging odds—there was about a 1 in 5 chance the baby wouldn’t make it. That we’d lose the pregnancy.

And that was stressful.

Each week, as baby continued to live, those odds would look better for us all. And baby continued to grow and grow. And everything has been healthy.

And now we’re at 40 weeks—the “due date.”

And baby could arrive at any moment.

—

So I find myself coming back to that question:

Do I believe in miracles?

Yes.

Not just in the big, life-altering moments.

But in the quiet, steady unfolding of a life.

In the way two people find each other against all odds.
In the way love grows, even after heartbreak.
In the way a body knows how to carry and birth new life.
In the way something so small can change everything.

There are so many miracles happening every day.

We’re living them, moment by moment.

—

Just a little check-in as we await baby’s arrival.

With care,
Georgia Lynn
Steward of sacred spaces for women waking up
georgia-lynn.com