Our fourth child was unnamed for two days. My husband and I have had names picked out for all of our potential children that we could mix and match first and middle names when the time came. When she came though, we didn’t have anything picked out yet.

#4 was very different than any of the previous births. Because she was fourth, my husband had to go home with #s 1-3 overnight, so I had a lot of quiet alone time with her.

In the quiet hospital room, I got to hear her, smell her, and sit in silence with her.

She was our rainbow baby (a nice euphemism I discovered for “the baby after you have a miscarriage”). During my pregnancy and delivery, I was going through a lot of emotions, I was sad. I was excited. I was tired. And, I felt a little needy. I didn’t really understand then what that sense of need was, but in the quiet hum of the hospital room, I heard the name Ezra.

I never wanted to name a daughter “Ezra.” I’d always heard it meant “help” and I always felt it was diminutive. But she was my help. In my grief about our miscarriage and thoughts of a life lost and unknown, she came. In the silence where my thoughts could run rampant, she kept me grounded. She represented life and blessing after a storm.

Now, almost four years later. She continues to help me stay focused on God’s goodness, His rescue, and His grace.

Now, when I think of the world “help” I don’t receive it with such pride.

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