That was the name we chose and the name we announced when asked at a time of prayer set by dear friends for us. I don't know how many Tuesdays they met on our behalf. We intended to attend more of them, but in all that was happening, we forgot. I remember the prayers offered for us and this little life whose face we wondered if we would ever see.
Our pastor catching me after church with arm around me asked for healing and mercy and comfort and kingdom will to be done.
Another friend asking for glory to be manifested as only miraculous healing could accomplish it. Would God form a torso for this little one so that we could sing songs of wonder and praise for all the world to know?
Prayers uttered for our comfort and our strength. Words asking for wisdom and grace and understanding for doctors. Hearts poured out for the creating and preservation of a family, of our family.
It was a holy night.
The next day, the first Wednesday of November, Adyn Michael stopped making my belly flutter.
Months later one of those gathered on the floor of the sanctuary that night remarked at how well I was doing, at my strength. I remember replying that it was God's doing. But I don't think I reminded her, or perhaps at the time I didn't realize, that the preservation of my faith, the kindness and goodness of God poured out on our suffering in those terrible circumstances was really an answer to the pleas be uttered by so many on our behalf.