It had taken eight years to get pregnant again. Now in my fourth week, I rushed to the doctor with abdominal pains. Please, let this baby survive, I prayed, fearing another miscarriage.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a ladybug sitting peacefully on my side-view mirror. The first one I’d seen since my miscarriage all those years ago. It felt like a sign back then, that God was with me in my grief.
Now I believed the polka-dotted creature had reappeared to let me know that my baby and I were in God’s care. The doctor confirmed that everything was fine.
Two months later, I had another scare. On the way to the doctor, a ladybug alighted on my windshield. Once again, our baby was okay.
In my final trimester, I started a ladybug collection to keep my faith strong. An enamel ladybug from a flea market for my rearview mirror, a ladybug stapler for my desk. Friends, family, even my students surprised me with ladybug journals, stuffed animals and key chains.
Soon we welcomed our baby girl. We named her Ava, Latin for “bird.” In honor of those little red ladybirds–my own personal reminders of God’s loving care.
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