This time though, our baby got a middle name and a powerful intercessor, Pio.
Have you heard of St. Padre Pio? I had been reading about him and thought he was cool. We had been successful in spacing our second baby two years after the first, which is the first step to avoiding a repeat c-section. And when the time for the green light of being able to conceive again came around, I was baby-hungry. I wanted a sibling for Addie before she grew up any more. I envied pregnant women I saw. Surprisingly, getting pregnant wasn't as immediate for us as I had expected. And when the pregnancy test came positive one weekend, I was overjoyed.
Then I had a little blood loss. We had some with Addie, so I wasn't too worried. My doctor said to go in and check, just in case. It was too early to see anything, she said, and there was nothing to do but wait. I was in the middle of a novena to Padre Pio. I implored his help. He was a miracle worker during his lifetime, so he could certainly work this small miracle for me, right?
On Padre Pio's feast day, I had real blood loss. My period. A miscarriage. It was very early on, but I was still shocked that it had happened to me. "Even when it's very early, miscarriage hurts."
I was veeeery angry at Padre Pio. Some miracle worker. I felt like going into a church with his statue and breaking off his arm (that's a scene from a movie called Malena). I know, uncalled for.
And then we got pregnant right after. And it went well. Really well. And the first doctors' appointments you always get asked "date of last menstruation?" And I answered... September 23rd... oh, Padre Pio's feast day. Thanks Padre Pio. You're not so bad after all.
I decided he would be our official saint to ask to intercede for our birth. And the birth went really, really, really well. Lots of little miracles there, that we really felt if it weren't God's loving hand and all the prayers... including Padre Pio's.. wouldn't have gone well.
So Davy got a middle name. And we got a friend in heaven.