I discovered something unusual about my second baby, Ivy, when she was 19 weeks old. The midwife informed us that the scan revealed significant findings. Immediately, tears welled up in my eyes, and a heavy feeling consumed my stomach. A terrible sense of something being wrong washed over me. Finally, we sat down with the midwife, and I shared the details of the sonogram. It was then that she delivered the dreadful news: “First, there’s a chance the baby will have a cleft lip. Additionally, she lost both her hand and forearm, and one side of her femur is twisted and shorter than the other.”

It felt like a devastating blow, knocking the air out of me. The image of my ideal baby shattered, and I collapsed, overcome with tears. No arms? I had never imagined this possibility. It had never crossed my mind to fear or worry about it. She sobs uncontrollably, feeling overwhelmed by her concerns and a profound sense of helplessness. Her tears overflowed, crossing boundaries of anguish.

Her father, trying to console, said, “Our family will be blessed by her. Our family needs someone like her, in my opinion. She has a lot to share with us.” That evening, she spent hours watching videos of other children with amputations, researching prosthetics for infants and young children. In the midst of despair, she caught a glimmer of hope. The doctor told her it was over, that there was no hope. We had given up on having children and believed that a baby’s life couldn’t be lived. When the doctor suggested termination, I was stunned.

She never considered abortion. She didn’t want to jeopardize her pregnancy further because she wanted to keep her child. She believed that out of all the mothers in the world, the universe had chosen her to be Ivy’s mother. Even I believe Ivy chose me. She recognized me. I long for her to be my mother. The universe anticipates my love for her, knowing that I would protect her and be everything she needs in a mother. I feel like my entire life has been leading up to this moment, preparing me to be Ivy’s mother.

Ivy surprised us all by arriving four weeks early. She couldn’t wait to join the world, or maybe she knew that I needed her here, needing the reassurance that she would be okay in the end, safe in my arms. The moment I gave birth to her and held her in my arms, a profound sense of peace washed over me. And when she opened her eyes and looked at me for the first time, I knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.