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Marked with briars and brambles, this journey has been home to clearings infused with peace where nothing makes sense, but everything seems good. This is the place of surrender and God enables us daily to walk the next step in that plan. As I wait for God to reveal His purposes through this situation I am reminded of who He is and His faithfulness to speak continually. We are not alone.
These next series of posts are written for record, but also that we may fill you in on what has taken place in the journey thus far … more emotions than details. God has moved in and loved us, shown up to comfort us, and I believe taken the pressure we could not handle and lifted it just enough. We are his treasure and He is ours!
So, as we backtrack … enjoy the journey! May you be blessed by the Love GOD is waiting to lavish on YOU!
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News of loss is never received with much joy … understandably so. Upon first hearing we could lose this baby I wasn’t really thinking. I was sitting in a dr.’s office listening to words coming at me, trying to hold myself together until I could get to a safety zone. I wasn’t joyful, I wasn’t sad … I just was.
Entering the safe zone (home) we picked up where we’d left off. We slept, worked, ate and proceeded to do what we’d been doing the night before when my water had broken so suddenly. Before long, one sentence having something to do with God’s best for his children broke through into the painful truth that this child may not make it; and the torrent of tears I had been holding onto since the night before came gushing out.
I find it hard to describe what this moment was like. I know it’s not necessary, nor can one truly grasp something until they’ve been there, but loss and mourning are universal and at some point it’s likely you will experience them both. God met me as I wept. I was frozen and hurting, but comforted. It’s something I can’t even begin to put into words. It is too precious to describe.
Matthew 5:4 says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” As I read this anew today I realized that I am blessed. If I never have cause to mourn, to ache, to grieve … how can I know God as my comforter? In this, God was choosing to reveal more of himself to me. He was showing me his care for me, his care for this baby. His comfort was just as real as the pain, and beautiful, so beautiful! Father, May it be to me as you have said.
Once upon an I.V. … yes, if stories began like that I’d be living a fairy tale. We spent last night in the hospital, I.V. and all. Packing quickly is not my forte I found, but we managed to get out of the house without leaving too much behind. Nearly two hours later I was checked in and baby and I were getting the “royal treatment” so to speak. Just imagine. We went, due to bright red bleeding which is not normal. For the sake of all you readers out there I won’t give all the details, but let’s just say everything was not normal and there was cause for concern.
After a night of monitoring, extensive checking of this and that and blood work that returned normal we were given the all clear. We’re still not “in the clear” so to speak. Bleeding has not stopped and is still concerning, but without other signs to point to, there is no reason to keep me in the hospital at the moment (aka. there is “no cause for concern”). I will stay close to the hospital for the moment and keep the updates coming … God is good!
I find myself wondering if this saga of hospital stays and wonder and struggle is about to end and then I realize that whether it’s hospital related or not there will be struggle in life. I’m promised LIFE IN CHRIST and with that also comes the fellowship of sharing in His suffering, becoming like Him in His death (phi 3:10). It may be hard, but I know from what I’ve experienced thus far that this fellowship is sweet! Maybe I am, in fact, living a better story than even I could imagine.
We were surprised to receive a call from the lab at the hospital today with preliminary results from the placental biopsy we had just yesterday. Full results are pending and will not be in, we’re told, for a week and a half, but they were able to determine a few things for us.
First comments were, “everything looks normal.” Sigh. Good news! I like normal. There is no presence of Down syndrome, Trisome 18 also known as Edwards syndrome, or Trisome 13 also called Patau syndrome. Chromosomally they were also able to confirm that it is a boy. Ten days or so till the full results are in, but this was encouraging.
Thanks again for your prayers! You are a crucial part of this process!
“I lie down and sleep; I wake again because the Lord sustains me.“ Psalm 3:5
Smiling, once again I am walking out of my dr.’s office with joy. God is sustaining us. Our dr. called this last weekend to let us know they were able to schedule a placental biopsy for Monday, the 14th. (That was today). We were launched into two days of prayer and talking pros and cons. Would it make a difference for us to have more information? What would we do with that information and if we miscarried because of this biopsy would we be destroyed?
Wrestling with the tough questions has become commonplace, but I’m coming to understand what if’s are “for the birds.” One step at a time we deal wisely with what we absolutely know and we let God handle everything. If there’s something we don’t know we don’t make decisions based on what might happen and we always cry out to Jesus for His wisdom.
After it was all on the table we decided to go ahead with the biopsy. Driving from our home at 6:15 am was a bit brutal, but the 8:15 am appt. went well. It was a quick procedure. Grant held my hand as the numbing needle proved quite painful, but it was over in a matter of minutes. My prayer was for protection. As the needle pierced my belly my heart cried, “God, protect this baby!” I know he heard me.
We met with our OB shortly after. We were able to give her the good news from last week that I have no more pain in my abdomen. Everything else looks good and I was even able to escape a blood draw. For the first time I was also able to let her know I had felt fetal movement. Every week someone asks, “have you felt the baby move yet?” Every week I say, “no,” but as we waited in the lobby this morning I felt a distinct movement I can’t point to anything else. I felt our little one move.
This is the 24th week, but we have a long way to go … thank you for praying, for reading, for being involved in our lives!
One, two, three doctor appt’s., what’s becoming the weekly blood draw, and one hospital tour later I have officially been dubbed a “frequent flyer.” All of you who have become immune to the joy of flying, take a look around and appreciate it once again. It may be one day you’ll be grounded, as I am, in a manner of speaking. Today, I will try and share just a bit of our daily past (yesterday) with you, but this may be a longer one.
Morning and afternoon collided. We scored a parking space at the hospital, having just spent a quick 5min. grabbing taco bell drive thru, and stuffing our faces, headed into a series of appointments we knew would take the afternoon. Our first was a tour of the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). We were able to see the space we would likely occupy for the birth of our baby and should there be any hospitalization prior to birth, what that would look like. Mutual agreement was that we won’t go back anytime soon.
Our next appt. was with the dr. we’ve been seeing weekly. Her exam revealed some progression in our case. I had some pain near the uterus, which combined with a blood draw that had been slightly off the week before and new progression in my fluids (we went into the hospital the previous Monday to be monitored) raised her level of concern. It was enough for her to make the recommendation that we end the pregnancy.
Grant and I did not feel ending the pregnancy at this point was right, but hasty. I was convinced I may just be experiencing gas pains. An ultra sound was still scheduled and we determined to see what happened there. We planned to return and talk with our dr. once she had the results from our blood work. Step by step HE leads us!
On my back, once again, staring at a screen … I’m trying to determine where the baby is. Without the amniotic fluid it’s a pretty intense search. Findings from the day: Our little one is significantly smaller than he should be. We are currently at 23 weeks and he’s measuring about 18 weeks. There is a fluid pocket in the head called a ventricle, which is normal to have, and our baby’s size is on the high side of normal (almost large). In addition, leg and arm bones are super small. They confirmed much of what we already knew, i.e. the placenta is irregular. However, the blood flow to the baby is normal. This then, doesn’t explain why the baby is so small. All of these factors together lead dr.’s to think it’s probable something genetic has happened with the baby.
The dr. presented us all the bad news, but I’ve been holding onto this one beautiful confirmation of God’s love and faithfulness. We have a boy! Yes, the tech was able to see anatomy and just as God revealed in the beginning, we are going to have a son. The minute he said it’s a boy I just started smiling and all the “bad” news hasn’t really mattered that much because I know God’s in control. He has spoken and whatever He brings is right and good for us.
So … back to our regular dr. where all the blood work came back normal and the consensus is I’m “beautiful on paper.” We were given the option to do a placental biopsy, which would give us more information on what might be going on genetically, but also would allow us more insight into any subclinical infection that may be brewing. We have decided to do this whenever they can schedule it. Most of all, we need wisdom from the King of Kings for we know only in Jesus is true LIFE found. Pray that as we walk with Him in this we will understand His heart more and more!
I became more alert toward the end of our stay, but there were still so many drugs lingering in my system that my body didn’t know how to handle them. They produced in me much pain and I felt constantly off balance even in bed. This proved most difficult as I was starting to see more, have more questions and be able to determine more in my own mind about what was going on … that combined with the symptoms I’d been having and you have quite a combo for frustration.
It was here that God met me. Grant had been struggling with the dr.’s regarding a drug issue (more info. available in epilepsy June 8). I had no idea what was really going on, nor had I any real concept of how long Grant had been without sleep, but I could feel something was wrong. In the middle of the night I looked over and I could see him pacing back and forth, struggling. I wanted so badly to be able to help him, but I knew I didn’t have the power. There was nothing I could do, but be. Grant left to fight for me, convincing the dr.’s of their dosage errors and God met us both.
Purple smoke came through the doorway. It was beautiful, much like a cloud, but purple – like nothing I’ve ever seen. Coming through the doorway it moved towards my bed and upon reaching it, hovered over me covering me completely. I felt such peace in that moment and was able to sleep, needed sleep.
The first of many beauties I saw in the hospital, this cloud at first made me wonder if I was hallucinating. I asked God, “Am I hallucinating?” But the more I understand who God is and what it is to hallucinate I know this was something very different. That night my mother couldn’t sleep and got up to pray. She prayed not that I would be healed nor that I would be free of pain, but that God would meet me in that hospital room wherever I was. He did!
Transition to the ICU proved uneventful for me. Grant continued to keep me abreast of what was going on, so good at talking to me whether I was responsive or not. I knew he was there and it made everything easier. I was in and out of consciousness and though I tried to sleep the constant hustle and bustle of dr.’s in and out made it difficult. At the same time I didn’t feel like I cared about much. Things were what they were. I didn’t like them – they just were.
Not able to help my situation, I waited. I couldn’t heal my body and God didn’t seem to be doing that just yet, so I needed to be patient. I was frustrated with the weakness of my body and as I lay before the Lord I cried out, “heal me.” Then I remembered that he already said he would; and that would turn into thanks and so in tears, in pain, in my agony before the Lord I accepted this next step, whatever it was, and kept going.
Through the next few days I would experience much pain and discomfort, but God was with me in it all. Your prayers were and are so valuable. The latter part of James 5:16 says, “The intense prayer of the righteous is very powerful.” I believe we experienced these.
Memories from there are sketchy. I felt pain, but more often at first was discomfort from the hospital gear attached to me. I’d gone from the kitchen to a beautiful white box to a hospital that seemed to have no concern for my well being. They were, by far, the worst stop on the journey. Or, maybe I just wasn’t seeing things properly.
I’m sure there were many things I wasn’t quite “seeing” properly at first. I could hear more than I could see. Voices came into my ears, but assimilating faces was a completely different animal. Even Grant’s face was fuzzy and I knew him by the way he walked or what he was wearing. I saw nothing clearly, but the news of the seizure that had placed me here.
I know now many people came to visit, but I was not aware of them. I was in a world of drugs and plastic. Numb to my own needs, I relied upon those around me to do their best. Stating my opinion did not then lie within my ability.
Reaching a point where talking became attractive, I’m told I was quite funny. I remember being quite charming. Everything seemed tubular and I saw only what was directly in front of me. My eyes didn’t seem to have a grasp yet on the complete room view, but I could hear laughter and my heart soared at its presence.
Tubes were soon disconnected, but my memory of this time is voices. I remember best those few who boldly approached my bed and spoke close to my head. I may not have seen their faces, but I heard their words. I pray if the tables were turned I would do the same.
Today marks the anniversary of one year since the coma. As I write this last sentence every part of me wants to giggle. Perhaps not the normal response, but it is nonetheless. I have been on a beautiful journey and it continues to be LIFE worth living. In celebration of who God is and the story only HE can write I wanted to tell you about this last June (2009) from my perspective. It will come in four posts for reading ease.
Seizures, at least the kind I experience, allow me to be momentarily out of the picture. It’s as if my senses are darkened and my body is able to do what it wants, where it wants without my permission. Not until after the fact when I begin to feel, hear and understand does it become very painful. My experience in June was elevated in intensity in many ways. Calm and silence lasted so much longer, but so did the pain, which was more intense than I’d known before.
As I stood by the refrigerator that morning I didn’t think anything was going to change my world so much I’d be in the hospital that evening. I could not have predicted it. But, as I heard Grant call my name and sit me down I knew he’d seen something strange. I couldn’t see it. I could feel the scrutiny, but I couldn’t see what was imminent. I didn’t feel strange and though I couldn’t answer his questions properly I didn’t seem to know it. It almost seemed funny. And then I was in a white box.
I’d never been in such a wonderful place. It was padded and soft and white and bright, but not so bright that it would hurt your eyes. I remember feeling very safe and content in this box, but to this day no one can tell me about this box, because from their perspective I was never in a white padded box.
Though we were simply too tired to update you all last night we have received a good report from the dr.’s regarding the blood work done on Tuesday. Everything came back normal … no hemorrhaging and the fluid on each side of the membrane is likely amniotic. There is no way to determine this for certain as ultrasounds are seen in black and white, but we are hopeful. We will continue to keep you updated as we are. Blessings!
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