Wishing...

"I was certainly in a state! 'Clogged with wishes.' I was wishing that my wishes were what God wished, and if my wishes were not what God wished, I wished that I could wish that my wishes would go away, but the wishes were still there."

"If the yearnings went away, what would we have to offer up to the Lord?"

"My heart was saying, 'Lord, take away this longing, or give me that for which I long.' The Lord was answering, 'I must teach you to long for something better."

-Elisabeth Elliott, Passion and Purity

I'm wishing today that the deep longings in my heart would be subject to the One who longs for me. I'm wishing that my desire for Him would overshadow the other desires stirring inside of me. I'm wishing that the pain and the ache would fuel the fire of worship in my heart. Jesus, only You can truly satisfy my heart.

"Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He will give you the desires and secret petitions of your heart." (Psalm 37:4 Amplified)

To Wean or not to Wean?

It really was a big question. By the time we reached Benjamin's 2nd birthday (May 22, 2011), the question of how long I would continue to breastfeed began to surface more and more. As I've written previously, there were months and months that weaning was not an option since my son was not able to obtain and adequate amount of fluid intake from a cup. I loved nursing, but the desire for a second child was (and is) growing in me. I knew that I would probably be more likely to conceive once he was weaned and my hormones had the opportunity to re-align themselves again. Benjamin was well on the road to holding his cup independently, and we were already down to only two nursing sessions a day: first thing in the morning and right before bedtime. My sense was that these were more for comfort than anything, but it was still a difficult decision to make. The bond I had with Benjamin through breastfeeding was so precious, especially considering how hard I had to fight to be able to nurture him in this way. It wasn't something I wanted to relinquish until I felt sure of my decision, for once it was made, it would be final.

After Benjamin's birthday, we continued with our twice daily nursing sessions for the entire month of June. A little way into July, I decided I was ready to complete the weaning process. I thought the easiest session to cut first would be the evening one. So, one night, instead of nursing my son, I offered him a cup of milk in his highchair. Shawn and I wondered if he would be fussy when we put him to bed that night, but to our surprise and relief, he slept the whole night through. We continued our morning nursing sessions for two more days, but I knew that at this point he wasn't getting much milk from me anyway. On July 15 I decided to take the final step in the weaning process. Shawn got Benjamin up and changed his diaper, but instead of bringing him to me in the living room, he took our little boy straight to his highchair where I was waiting with a cup of milk. At first he cried and didn't want it. He is very much a creature of habit, and he did not appreciate this change in routine! However, when we offered him some cereal, he happily gobbled it up and then contentedly drank his milk. It was so much easier than I had anticipated! I knew my son was ready, and though there was some sadness, I was ready too. I wrote in my journal the next day "Benjamin was officially weaned yesterday. It was and is a bittersweet relief."

In the days and weeks that followed, I experienced some different emotions, but I always felt at peace with my decision. I missed the cuddle time that nursing afforded the most. For the majority of our two years of nursing, Benjamin would cuddle with me when he was done eating. I would make faces at him and give his kisses; he would make faces back and squeal with delight. However, during the last few months of nursing, this routine was already shifting. As soon as he was done, he was done, and he would begin pushing against me to get down on the floor where his toys were. He was already starting to gain a greater measure of independence, and he needed to. In fact, only 3 days after Benjamin was weaned, he started his own version of a belly crawl (more on that later)! He was quickly leaving his baby days behind him and venturing into the world of toddlerhood! I was relieved by the greater measure of freedom I had a well. If Shawn and I wanted to have someone babysit Benjamin while we enjoyed an evening out, I didn't have to be back at a specific time to nurse him. We could simply leave a cup of milk, and he was happy (most of the time)!

Benjamin continues to gain more independence in his behavior and personality. He is very much a little boy, and he is so much fun! He is still a Mommy's boy (much to Daddy's disappointment), but he is becoming more and more his own little person. I have to take advantage of what cuddle time I can get now, usually when he's sleepy, because he is a little ball of energy, eager to play and explore (as long as he knows I am close by). I'm so proud of him! He still enjoys his milk in the morning and evening, though we have since smoothly transitioned from cow's milk to soy milk, which has done wonders for his digestion. I look back with gratitude and affection for the two years of breastfeeding I enjoyed with my son as well as the good nutritional start I was able to give to him. I look forward with excitement and pride at the little boy he's growing up to be. And, to be perfectly honest, I look forward with eager anticipation to building a special bond with baby number two, whenever he or she graces our lives in the future!

The Comparison Game

In the comparison game, no one ever really wins. If I come out feeling better than, it only feeds an unhealthy pride. If I come out feeling less than, discouragement and self-pity are right around the corner. Either outcome brings greater bondage, not greater freedom. Neither outcome brings me closer to the heart of Jesus. Knowing this first-hand, why am I so quick to slip into this deadly game again and again? This morning I found myself in the familiar struggle…

Shawn and I have been trying (unsuccessfully so far) to conceive a second child for a year’s time now. We tried two years for Benjamin. The disappointments of those two years were very painful. The disappointments of this last year have been as well. Then, a few days ago I had an unexpected and frightening attack of the same nature as the gall bladder attacks I was suffering from prior to my surgery last October. I didn’t think that was even possible, but there I was getting sick in the bathroom and screaming in agonizing pain on the floor while Shawn raced to get Benjamin ready so he could drive me to the ER. It also happened to be the day that my menstrual cycle was scheduled to start, so before I could be treated, they had to run a pregnancy test. I wrestled back and forth with my emotions as we waited for the results. I so long to be pregnant again, but I also wanted to be able to take some pain medicine and have the CT scan run on my stomach to find out what in the world was going on with my body. The results were negative, and the medical staff continued in treating me. The CT scan revealed no problems with my appendix (one of the initial fears) and no evidence of stones in the duct connecting my liver to my intestine. The ER doctor concluded that I must have a build-up of “sludge” (a highly medical term I know) in the duct from my liver to my intestines, which actually consists of several microscopic stones. So, I was instructed to continue a low-fat diet, take the pain medicine left over from my surgery as necessary, and call my surgeon on Monday (tomorrow). He can look at the results of my CT scan and decide what steps need to be taken next. Sigh…

This morning the disappointment of another false pregnancy test, coupled with the unexpected medical complications was really weighing on my heart. Before I knew it, I was playing the comparison game. Why do so many women, who may not even be trying to get pregnant, conceive so easily while we continue to try month after month? Why do so many women give birth to healthy baby after healthy baby when our son has had so many complications? Why am I fast approaching my 30^th birthday with only one child when there are so many women younger than me who already have multiple children? Why am I having the medical complications I do when I’m living a healthier lifestyle than many of the people around me? It appears to be only another road block in my desire to conceive. What about the countless unborn lives that are murdered daily in the name of “convenience” and “freedom of choice?” I so want to bring a new life into the world and cherish that life as a precious treasure from God. I also long for the experience of raising a “typically developing” child who will naturally achieve new milestones without the intensity of intervention, work, and tears that we have and are walking through with Benjamin. What would it feel like to bring home a healthy baby after a safe delivery? Why is that the expected norm for so many and still only a distant dream for me?  Pretty soon I was in an emotional tailspin. I knew where I was going and that it wasn’t helping me at all, but it was a struggle to come up and out.

 During our worship at church this morning we sang about the cross of Jesus Christ and the immense love He demonstrated to us. As I sang and played my guitar, I pictured Jesus’ passion in my mind’s eye and thought, “How can the One who poured out His life blood in love for me, not be trusted with every aspect of my heart and life?” I reminded myself of something He gently spoke to my heart a few months ago, as I poured out my longing to Him for a second child:

Do not waste this time but fill your heart with the oil of intimacy. Cherish this time and be content in Me. It is My gift to you.

I know that when our second child comes, the busyness and demands on my time will significantly increase. I know that the one on one attention I’ve been able to give Benjamin has been so valuable, especially in light of his many delays. I know that the time I’ve already had to fight for to get alone with Jesus has been a gift.  He is inviting me to go deeper into His heart during this season of waiting. Even the uncertainty of my medical condition can be a place to lean into Him more. The comparison game robs me of these truths. In the comparison game the attitude of my heart accuses God, (though I may not say it with my mouth) instead of trusting Him. It lies to me that He is unjust, that He is withholding good from me, that He doesn’t care. I know these things are not true, but how quickly my emotions can be drawn in this direction if I do not take my thoughts captive and bring them back to Jesus.

Life’s trials and disappointments can come from many sources. There is an enemy of our souls who is out to steal, kill and destroy. There are the consequences of our own poor choices or the poor choices of people in our lives. There is the discipline of the Lord, which He uses to draw our hearts back to Him if we have strayed away or to mature us in our walk with Him. Whatever the source of the suffering, though, Jesus desires to use it all to bring us to a place of greater intimacy with Him. He always has the end in mind; He sees past the temporal and into eternity; surely He can be trusted with every facet of our lives!

Will I recognize the gifts of God in my life when they come packaged in a way I did not expect or request? Will I be thankful for and receive His gifts when they look different from what I wanted? Do I believe that I have a better handle on what my life should look like than my Creator, who knows all and loves me without reservation? Will I still hope in His promises when everything around me seems to be screaming the opposite? Will I genuinely trust the One who left heavenly glory to identify with my own weakness and brokenness and to pour out His life for me that I may be made whole?  

I’m so thankful that Jesus is not surprised by my emotional struggles. He is not offended by my weakness when I find myself slipping into the comparison game--again. He is patient and tender towards me in my brokenness, but He is not content to leave me there. He is inviting me to life and freedom, though I must choose to respond. Some scriptures went through my mind this morning as I wrestled through my emotions:

Shall the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’ Or shall the handiwork say, ‘He has no hands?’ (Isaiah 45:9b NKJV)

After the risen Jesus prophesied to Peter about the martyr’s death he would face to glorify God, Peter looked at John…

Peter, seeing him, said to Jesus, “But Lord, what about this man?” Jesus said to him, “If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you? You follow Me,” (John 21:21-22 NKJV).

Lord Jesus, give me grace, whatever the path may look like, to follow closely after You.

Before my surgery, unbeknownst to me, Shawn took several pictures of family and friends holding up similar signs. After my surgery he surprised me with a homemade slide show set to music. I loved it!

Someday

Someday Benjamin will learn to stand. Someday he will be able to walk next to me, holding my hand instead of being carried everywhere. Someday he will be able to run to his Daddy when he comes home from work. Someday he will be able to say “Mommy” and “Daddy;” he will be able to articulate words and form sentences to communicate his thoughts and feelings. Someday he will be able to feed himself without assistance. Someday he will no longer need diapers. Someday he will have developed the necessary motor skills to throw and catch a ball, to go down a slide, to ride a tricycle, to color a picture, to make a simple craft, etc. Some days the longing for “someday” is more deeply felt than others. Today has been one of those days…

This morning we had an appointment at the local health department with Benjamin’s audiologist to have casts made for new ear molds for his hearing aids. This is never a pleasant process. I have to hold his arms down and keep his head as still as possible while she examines his ears one at a time. After examining an ear, she pushes a small piece of cotton with a string attached to it down deep into the ear canal. She then fills the ear with a soft putty. This has to stay in place for a few minutes while it hardens to create a cast of Benjamin’s inner ear. These are then sent in to a lab that will make his new molds, which we will hopefully be able to pick up in a few weeks. My son hates this process. He doesn’t like things (other than his hearing aids, and on some days that’s still questionable) in his ears, and he struggles the whole time. Being held down makes him angry, and by the time the whole process was complete, he was a mess of tears and snot. I was hopeful that our next activity would be a welcome distraction and cheer him up.

The local health department hosts monthly play groups, each highlighting a different theme. Today they were holding their Christmas play group, with multiple crafts, snacks and a free book from Santa Claus. I had been planning for a few weeks now to take Benjamin, hoping he would enjoy being around other children and gaining some new experiences. The audiologist walked us down the hall to the center of the activity. My son was still teary-eyed, and the commotion of the busy play group seemed to only add to his distress instead of capturing his interest. As I carried him around, examining the different craft options, he continued to fuss and cry, and I felt like all eyes were on me (though that may have just been in my head more than anything). All of the tables were being manned by students from the local technical college.

I decided to start at a table to make a pasta necklace, with dry noodles painted red and green. I awkwardly held Benjamin, trying to talk to him about the craft as I slid noodles over a covered wire. I finished it quickly, and the students helped to secure it around my son’s neck. He was not impressed. Within 5-10 minutes he managed to rip it off, scattering noodles on the floor. Some of the pieces were broken in the process, and his necklace found it’s final destination in the trash can. Sigh…

After making the necklace, we headed over to a play corner that was really designed for babies, but I hoped a musical toy would calm him down and hopefully alter his crabby mood. It was not to be. Benjamin pushed away the toy I tried to entice him with and continued to cry, while a baby about a third of his size sat and played contentedly. I started lifting him up over my head and kissing his tummy which scored me some smiles and giggles, but it was short lived. As soon as our little game was over, the fussing resumed.

We made our way to another table where you could make a candy cane with a pipe cleaner and red and white beads. We didn’t even begin this one. Benjamin tried to dump all the beads on the floor, but we caught him in time, and he continued to throw his fit. I awkwardly excused us and headed to the side of the room to chat with a few of the coordinators, explaining the effects of his audiologist appointment. It was during this time that the pasta necklace met its demise. They were understanding, and I knew I didn’t have to justify my son’s behavior, but I was feeling both disappointed and embarrassed.

My next idea was a trip to the bathroom to give him a brief change of scenery. This appeared to  work, until we re-emerged into the play group room and Benjamin began to cry again. Now, at this point I should have got us bundled up and headed home. I had so been looking forward to this morning, though, so I held on to the hope that something would capture his attention, and we could make a fun memory together. I decided to sit down with him for a few minutes so he could just observe things from a safe place and chatted with the woman beside me. I was waiting for a spot to open at a craft table where we could make an ornament and a Christmas door hanger using foam stickers. When a chair opened up, we headed that way. I was hoping Benjamin would enjoy placing stickers, but he had no interest and continued to fuss while I quickly made him an ornament and a door hanger and tried to talk to him about it step by step.

At this point I knew there really was no use in staying. I did want to get him a free book from Santa, and while we waited for one child to finish up, I took my son to a station where a young woman was hot-gluing pom-poms onto popsicle stick snowflakes to make Christmas ornaments. Each child could pick out the colors they wanted. Benjamin was slightly interested in pulling handfuls of pom-poms out of the bags, but his idea was to then throw them on the floor. He had tried to throw multiple things on the floor by this point and had succeeded with some, including the door hanger Mommy was working on and his right hearing aid. The young woman quickly finished his ornament and handed it to me. I was happy that Benjamin at least played a part in picking out the colors, even if it was by default.

We headed over to Santa’s corner, and his helper presented my son with a small book. He asked us a bit about our Christmas plans and tried to get Benjamin to give him a high-five. My son just looked at him not knowing what to think and continued his complaints. I knew I had kept us there too long. We got our coats on, I strapped Benjamin in his stroller, and we made our way for the door. As we crossed the room, I looked longingly at all the small children happily making crafts and walking from table to table. I knew many of them were probably close to my son’s age, some older, some younger. I felt so alone. “Well, we tried,” I said to one of the coordinators as we reached the doors. She encouraged me “That’s all you can do,” and gave me a flyer listing dates and themes for future play groups. I thanked her and we went on our way.

I felt such disappointment in my heart as we drove home. I recognized some of my own selfishness too. Did I want the experience for my son’s benefit or for my own? When he didn’t respond in the way I wanted him too, I was upset. He hasn’t reached the “somedays” I dream about yet, and I can’t make him get there on my time-table. Today I’ve been reminding myself that while it’s ok to look forward to the “somedays,” I don’t want that longing to rob me of the ability to enjoy my “todays.” I want to cherish every season of my son’s life, knowing that there will be joys and frustrations, victories and obstacles all along the way. The “somedays” I dream about now will some day be only distant memories, and new “somedays” will appear on the horizon. There is treasure to be found in today, though, and wisdom to be gleaned if I keep a teachable heart. All of my “todays” and all of my “somedays” are given as a gift to prepare me for the great “Someday,” when my faith will truly be made sight, and I see my Jesus face to face. I want to live in anticipation of that “Someday,” and I want to raise my son to do the same. His disability is but for a moment; his wholeness will be for eternity.  

It's Baby Day!

May 15, 2009:

We are at St. John’s Hospital again for the first of our now weekly appointments with Dr. Blake. A nurse leads us back to a small room and instructs me to lie back on the hospital table as she makes the necessary preparations for the non-stress test. Benjamin’s only been slightly active this morning, so I hope he will cooperate. The nurse straps a few circular, palm-size monitors over my bulging belly, putting pressure on my womb. She explains that I will need to lay still for the next 20-30 minutes as the monitors track our baby’s movement and heartbeat. A machine close by will be printing out the results throughout the duration of the test. She tells me to relax and leaves Shawn and I alone in the room, saying she will be back to check on us and on the results periodically.

As soon as the monitors are in place, my unactive little boy suddenly becomes very active! He does not appreciate the extra pressure on his little abode. Shawn and I watch with amusement (and for myself with some discomfort as well) as our baby attempts with all his might to kick off the offending monitors! I have never seen my stomach move like this—waves would really be the best description! When the test is finally complete, the nurse unhooks me and explains that the results look good today. (We were sure they would). She then leads us to another room where I will have an ultrasound to complete part two today’s testing. As has been the case each time, a technician performs the majority of the ultrasound, with Dr. Blake taking a look at the end. Benjamin obviously wore himself out during the non-stress test, and he doesn’t move much as measurements are taken of my amniotic fluid levels. He must be napping. We are relieved to learn that my fluid has actually gone up slightly since last week!

Dr. Cook explained to me at our appointment a few days prior that I will probably have to be induced at around 37 weeks gestation; 38 at the latest, in view of my low amniotic fluid. I am currently at 33 weeks. While the idea of an induced labor does not sound appealing, it is exciting to think that we will meet Benjamin within the month! I can’t wait to hold my little boy!

May 18, 2009:

We’re sitting in Dr. Cook’s office again for my weekly check-up. We will be seeing Dr. Blake again at the end of the week. However, he believes that next week’s appointment with her will be the real determining factor on when they will decide to induce labor. He explains that he will be leaving town this weekend for the Memorial Day holiday. While it’s unlikely that I will need to be induced this weekend, he wants us to understand that in the event something should happen, I will be attended to by one of the doctor’s on call.

“It’s probably not going to happen,” he says, concluding his thoughts. We agree. We do follow the recommendation, however, to have a hospital bag packed in the car, “just in case.”

May 19, 2009:

Shawn and I sit in a conference room at Jane Phillips Medical Center in Bartlesville for our third of four childbirth classes. I am so looking forward to the end of the class tonight when all the dads get to take a turn wearing the “sympathy belly.” When the time comes, each man dutifully straps on the 30 pound vest, complete with a bulging belly and breasts, and he must bend down to pick up a pencil on the floor. The room is full of laughter and flashing cameras. Shawn and I have our picture taken together when it’s his turn, but my belly definitely has his beat! His five minutes of baby belly weight is nothing compared to constant kicks, sleepless nights and a squashed bladder! Next week’s class is the one I’m most looking forward to, when we will learn about breastfeeding. I’ve dreamed all my life of nursing my babies, and I can’t wait for that special bond! As an 18-month old nursing child myself, I stood up solemnly in the middle of church one Sunday, lifted my dress over my shoulder, and pressed my baby doll’s face up to my baby chest! I guess I’ve looked forward to this for a long time!

May 20, 2009:

It’s a warm day as summer is getting ready to set in soon. I’m wearing a one piece cotton dress and my newly purchased Croc sandles; the only thing my hot, swollen feet can handle at this point. I’ve wrapped up most of my Christian Education responsibilities at The Salvation Army. All that remains now is to clean out my office space and assist in Social Services as I’m able to until it’s time to deliver the baby! My desk is almost done, but I still have to tackle the bookcase. Sitting on the floor is going to be necessary to clean out and organize the bottom shelves. Getting down isn’t so bad; getting up is another story! I’m so glad Mandy’s close by. What will it be like to be able to do simple tasks like bending over again? It feels like a lifetime ago since I was able to do that. Some days it’s hard to remember what it was like to not be pregnant!..

…Since it’s Wednesday night, Shawn and I are leading the small youth group meeting at The Salvation Army. Tonight we are talking about trusting God. Our current situation creates the perfect illustration:

“We are really having to trust God right now. It’s possible that when I go to see the specialist tomorrow, she will tell me that I can’t go home but must be admitted to the hospital to deliver the baby. We have a bag packed in the car just in case.” (Of course, we have little expectation that this will actually happen.)

We go on to share that part of trusting God is being totally honest with Him. When we’re going through stuff, it’s good to share with Him all the rawness of our emotions. He’s big enough to handle it, and He loves our honesty. We encourage the teens to pour their hearts out to God about any and every situation they face. He will meet them there.

May 21, 2009:

Benjamin has hardly moved this morning. As we make the drive to Tulsa, I talk to him and pray over him. “Come on, baby. You need to wake up and be active so they can monitor you.” Surely he’ll get going again once they strap those intruding monitors in place…

He must really be sleepy this morning. Even with the monitors strapped down, he’s not doing a whole lot today. There’s some movement here and there, but nothing like the waves we saw last week. Surely it’s nothing to worry about…

The nurse keeps coming in and out to read the results as they print. She even brings some other nurses with her. No one is saying anything to us, but this doesn’t feel like a normal silence. Soon I’m being unstrapped, and the nurse says we’ll be going to speak with Dr. Blake now.

“…to do the ultrasound?” I inquire.

“I don’t think there will be an ultrasound today,” she replies.

Shawn and I sit in another room waiting for the doctor to come and tell us what is going on. We are both feeling very uneasy, and we are trying hard not to jump to conclusions. When Dr. Blake finally walks in, she exclaims “Well, it looks like it’s baby day!” We just look at her in shock, trying to process what she has just said. Our minds swim as she explains that Benjamin’s heart rate dropped for over a minute during the non-stress test. While it’s back up again, she feels that it would be in his best interest to deliver him now at 35 weeks. Otherwise, I would have to remain hospitalized and monitored 24/7 for the next few weeks to ensure his well-being. If his heart rate dropped once, it could do it again. It’s possible that this has already been happening.

Dr. Blake instructs us to head down the road to Hillcrest Medical Center, where Dr. Cook happens to be practicing that day. We’ve never even seen the facility. We were planning to deliver at the St. John’s branch in Owasso. In a daze we check out at the front desk and head to the car. I am so grateful now that we had the presence of mind to pack a bag, though it’s a fairly meager one. As Shawn drives I call my mom and tearfully give her the update, requesting that she fly out as soon as possible. My heart sinks as I realize that she won’t be able to be with me during labor after all. I had pictured her and Shawn and possibly our friend Myong staying with me through labor. They all bring such a calming presence. I’m so scared. This is all happening so fast; so unexpected. We knew this was a possibility, but I feel so unprepared. The nursery hasn’t been completed yet. Shawn was going to finish painting the dresser this weekend, and we were going to get everything arranged just right for Benjamin. How can this be happening?!

It's a Boy!

January 16, 2009:

Shawn and I sit in a large waiting room at St. John’s Hospital in Tulsa, OK, waiting for my appointment with Dr. Blake, the specialist who will conduct the ultrasounds for our unborn baby. After what feels like an extremely long wait, we are escorted back to a small room. I am instructed to lie on the examination table and Shawn takes a seat in the corner. We notice a flat screen monitor attached to the wall, easily viewable from both of our vantage points. A young woman steps in and explains that she is one of the technicians who will be conducting most of the ultrasound; Dr. Blake will take a look at the end and visit with us.

We are both so eager. The only ultrasound I’ve had so far was at the very beginning of the pregnancy and only revealed what looked like a peanut-sized blob but was actually our baby, whose heart was already beating! We can’t wait to see what our child will look like at 17 weeks gestation and hope that the little boy we believe him to be will be clearly identified! We are slightly anxious about what the ultrasound will reveal, though we feel mostly confident that the quad-screen test was a false-positive for Down syndrome.

The technician has me lift my shirt over my rounded belly and smears a warm, clear goop all over. She then takes the ultrasound wand and starts to slowly move it across my womb. A picture appears on the screen, but at first it’s hard to make out what we are seeing. She is very accommodating, answering our questions and identifying for us what we are viewing on the monitor. She explains that the ultrasound will take awhile, as she must take detailed measurements of every part of our baby. I appreciate the she always refers to him as “baby,” not “it,” or “fetus” or some other sterile word. This is our baby, and his life is precious.

We are thrilled by some of the images we see. Our little guy is so active, swimming all around in Mommy’s womb. We recognize a side shot of his head and are captured by his profile. He lifts a tiny fist up to his mouth as though he’s getting ready to suck! We see an arm; we see a leg; we see many things we can’t readily identify. We are awe-struck that we are actually watching our baby move around inside my body. He’s really there, and he’s really coming! He also seems to prefer to tuck his head down into my right side, making it difficult for the technician to get some of the measurements she needs. She has me take a bathroom break, hoping my movement will cause him to move as well. Once back, we ask her if she can determine our baby’s sex or not. Seemingly on cue, Benjamin spreads his legs wide, as if to proudly declare, “I am Benjamin, and there’s no mistaking it!” We really are having a boy!

We notice that the technician keeps going back to look at his heart. She says that she’s having a hard time seeing all that she needs to see. We think nothing of it, and are excited the ultrasound is lasting a bit longer. After awhile she explains that she will need to ask Dr. Blake to get those parts of the measurements; she’s not been successful in obtaining them. She graciously excuses herself and tells us the doctor will be with us shortly.

Shawn and I are so excited. She printed some pictures for us before leaving, and we can’t wait to get back to work and show them off! Benjamin is Benjamin! A few minutes later Dr. Blake steps in. We can tell from the beginning that she’s not going to be one for much conversation but is there to accomplish the task at hand and then move on to the next one as efficiently as possible. She also takes some extra time examining our son’s heart, but we figure it must be difficult to measure something so small, especially when the baby’s so active. When she finally completes the ultrasound, she explains, much to our relief, that our baby’s measurements look normal. She does not see any obvious markers for Down syndrome. He weighs a whopping 7 oz., and his heart is beating at 123 beats/min—all within normal range. She says she would like to schedule two more ultrasounds, six weeks apart, just to keep an eye on his development. We are a little surprised by this, but the thought of seeing our baby two more times before he is born is exciting! We witnessed a miracle today. How could anyone deny that the active little life inside of me is a baby, and his life is so valuable!

May 8, 2009:

It’s raining cats and dogs this morning. We are scheduled to see Dr. Blake again in a few hours for our last of the three ultrasounds. The second one in March was less dramatic than the first. Since Benjamin had grown (as he should), it was very difficult to identify anything we were seeing on the screen, which was a bit disappointing. His measurements still looked normal, and we were sent on our way. I really don’t want to go. My body has gone through drastic change, even just in the last month. My belly is huge! I’m carrying Benjamin all out front and low. My ankles and feet are swollen, and I can’t walk without waddling. I’m exhausted from broken sleep every night. I can no longer sleep on my side and instead sleep in the living room in a recliner. I say “sleep,” but it’s more like a series of short naps throughout the night. Benjamin is moving like crazy, and though I love seeing and feeling him move, some of his activity has become painful. We are already driving to Owasso, forty minutes away, on a weekly basis at this point to see Dr. Cook. The thought of an hour drive to Tulsa this morning is not appealing. Everything has been fine so far, and while it would be neat to see the ultrasound (maybe), I wonder if it’s worth all the energy it will take. “Lord, if you want us to go, please let it stop raining. If not, I’m going to call and cancel.”

It stopped raining. Somewhat reluctantly, we load up in the car for the long drive. We are so blessed to have understanding supervisors, who not only allow for me to take time off for my multiple appointments, but who also allow my husband to accompany me. Captain Gargis and his family we transferred in January, and Majors Alan and Cheryl Phillips came in from Florida shortly thereafter. We miss the Gargis family, but we are really enjoying building relationship with the Majors. They are very supportive of my pregnancy. I’m thankful as well for Shawn’s willingness to come with me, especially now that it’s getting more difficult for me to drive, but I know he is getting a bit weary as well…

As we expected, it is very difficult to identify what we are seeing on the ultrasound screen unless someone explains it to us. Benjamin is just too big at this point. The abundance of amniotic fluid around him in the first ultrasound provided the perfect backdrop to distinguish his movements and features. He takes up most of the space now, and only a trained eye can recognize what they are seeing. As usual, Dr. Blake takes a few moments to discuss the ultrasound with us. Our baby’s measurements still look good, though his belly measures two weeks bigger than the rest of him. It looks like I’m carrying a little chunk! We are startled however, when she shares that my amniotic fluid is measuring low. What does that mean? How does that happen? She explains that there’s not a clear reason why it happens, but if my levels drop too low, our baby can be in danger of settling on top of and pinching off the flow of oxygen and nutrients from the umbilical cord. If my amniotic fluid drops below a certain level, it will require an emergency delivery. My levels are not to the danger point yet, but they are not good. She wants to see us back weekly until the baby is born to conduct both a non-stress test and an ultrasound. Our hearts sink. We have 5 weeks to go until my due date. How can we keep up with this pace?!

Later in the day I call our trusted friend Myong, who has been a spiritual mother to us for the last few years. I tearfully tell her about the doctor’s report. I’m not sure what to think or feel. I know our baby will be ok, but I’m scared too. This was so unexpected. I’m so exhausted, which is only heightening my emotions. She prays with me on the phone, and she is fired up. She’s going to fight in prayer for our baby’s well-being. She encourages me that Shawn’s and my prayers for our son are so important and so powerful. She encourages me to worship through this; it will be life to me and life to our baby. I place my hand on my stomach and silently pray over my son. I am comforted by his movement. I remind myself of the many promises spoken over him throughout my pregnancy. He is going to be ok.

Unexpected Results

I've recently started going back in my writing to fill in the gaps from the early parts of our journey.The following captures the time during my pregnancy when we first discovered that our child may have Down syndrome... 

January 7, 2009:

I’m a few weeks into my second trimester. The queasiness of the first trimester has disappeared, and the early fatigue is beginning to lessen. I feel so relieved that I never experienced full blown morning sickness. I’m delighted with my growing “baby bump,” and  I’m enjoying my new wardrobe of maternity clothes. The faint flutters I occasionally feel in my womb are thrilling evidence of the life growing inside of me. I love being pregnant!

I have an appointment scheduled with Dr. Cook today, and I can’t wait for another chance to hear our baby’s heartbeat. I’m disappointed when I find out they will be drawing more blood today. I’ve never liked needles (who does?), but I remind myself it’s for the baby. The anticipated joy of our coming child is worth all necessary discomfort. After the nurse draws my blood, Dr. Cook explains to Shawn and me that this test is called a quad-screen test, which screens for potential birth defects or genetic abnormalities. I politely listen as he explains the details, though I am confident that none of this could possibly apply to us. He explains that an abnormal result on this blood test does not diagnose a condition, but rather verifies the increased likelihood of a possible condition. For curiosity sake, I ask what would be done in the case of an abnormal test result. He mentions amniocentisis or specialized ultrasounds as the means for obtaining an actual diagnosis. I tell him that I would not be comfortable with an amniocentisis because of the potential risk of miscarriage connected with the procedure. He already knows our stance on abortion; nothing could ever convince us to take our baby’s life. I feel a bit funny that we are even having this discussion. I know that our baby will be healthy and whole, and I don’t see much use in discussing the “what-ifs?” Dr. Cook assures us that if for any reason my test comes back abnormal, he will call us personally; otherwise he will discuss my test with me at the following visit. “I know everything will be fine,” I say, and he smiles as we wrap up the appointment. Though I didn’t feel like all the information was necessary, I am thankful for a doctor who takes the time to explain things to us.

January 12, 2009:

I am sitting at my desk at The Salvation Army where I am currently employed as an overseer for the small Christian Education department. While working, I chat on and off with my friend and co-worker Mandy who shares the office with me. We are interrupted when my cellphone rings.

“Hello?”

“Dana, this is Dr. Cook.”

I feel like my heart stops beating. There’s only one reason he would be calling me this week.

“I’m sorry to tell you that while most of your test results came back normal, there was a positive result that you run a heightened risk of carrying a child with Down syndrome.”

How do I begin to process what he’s saying? I feel so numb.

Dr. Cook gently goes on to explain that a woman my age typically runs a risk rate of 1 in 956 to give birth to a child with Down syndrome. My test results increase my risk factor to 1 in 270. He says he will refer me to a specialist to schedule an ultrasound in which they will measure my baby’s bone growth and look for any “markers” for Down syndrome. He assures me again that the blood test is not diagnostic and often further testing yields normal results. He encourages me that I can feel free to call if I have any additional questions and that I should be expecting to hear from the specialist soon. Fighting to contain my composure, I thank Dr. Cook for calling and hang up the phone.

“Is everything ok?” Mandy inquires. Her face is full of concern from what little she heard from my end of the conversation. I’m sure my expression gives it away as well. With a shaky voice I relay back to her my conversation with the doctor, saying periodically to comfort myself, “I’m sure everything will turn out ok.” My friend doesn’t know what to say and tries her best to offer some word of encouragement. I quickly excuse myself to go find Shawn.

I find my husband at the other end of the building, alone with his laptop and a book. The moment I walk into the room he asks, “What’s wrong?” The tears begin to flow as I blurt out with a sob, “Everything’s going to be ok!” It hurts me to tell him, knowing the pain he will feel as well. We sit together in shock, silent tears running down our faces. How could this possibly be happening? We wanted a baby for so long. We pray over my womb every day. We envision the perfect, healthy baby boy scheduled to arrive in the summer. Surely the test is wrong!

We make our way up to Captain Gargis’ office. He is our current supervisor and pastor, but he and his family will soon be transferred to another Salvation Army Corps. Over the last year and half, he has mentored us in his fatherly way, and he has always willingly offered a listening ear. In his wisdom, he doesn’t try to find a quick answer to make us feel better. He listens to us, cries with us, and shares in our shock and pain. He assures us of the love we will have for our child regardless of his or her condition and takes the time to pray with us. He also gives us the option of taking the afternoon off so that we can have some time to process the news we just received. Shawn tells me he will take an extended lunch break with me, but he will have to return in the afternoon to do school pick-ups for the after school program he directs. He will come home again as soon as he can get away.

Our drive home is marked by tears and prayers, but surprisingly, by the time we pull into our driveway, an unexpected peace has descended on our hearts, and we know others are praying for us. Once inside I quickly grab my pregnancy book to see if there is any information on Down syndrome and the testing I just received. As Shawn and I read about some of the common traits of a child with Down syndrome, it feels so surreal to think that this could be our child. We don’t feel at all ready to accept that reality and are encouraged to read that things such as a miscalculated due date or even the presence of twins can result in a false-positive reading. Surely this is the case with us. As I take time to read and pray, I receive strength from Psalm 138:3, 7-8….

In the day when I cried out, You answered me, and made me bold with strength in my soul…Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me; You will stretch out Your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and Your right hand will save me. The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of Your hands.

After supper we head out to meet up with some friends from Nightwatch, a weekly prayer and worship gathering we have been a part of for the last few years. Tonight we will be carpooling to a neighboring town to listen to a guest minister at a church whom we have gone to see before. On the way Shawn and I ask the Lord to speak to us specifically tonight about our unborn baby.

The service is good, but it’s hard to fully focus with this unanswered question hanging over my mind. There is still a peace guarding my heart, but there is the presence of pain as well. Near the end, the guest minister is walking through the congregation, quietly asking the Holy Spirit to highlight people to him and give him words of encouragement to share with them. As he does this, he continues to share some and tell stories. He is a delight to listen to—very funny at times, but when he speaks, our hearts are so stirred for Jesus. The Word of God continually flows out from him because he has taken the time to really get it inside of him, and he walks very closely with the Lord and hears His voice. When he is close to our section, I silently pray again, “Lord, please speak to us tonight about our baby.” Within moments, he stops in front of Shawn and I and begins to engage us briefly in conversation. He then points to my pregnant belly and declares, “I speak John the Baptist over your baby. He will be full of the Holy Spirit from the womb.” (Incidentally, this same thing was spoken over Benjamin on three more occassions during my pregnancy by three different ministers, none of whom were connected to one another!)

Shawn and I are thrilled! John the Baptist was born in seemingly impossible circumstances and was set apart for God before he was even conceived. He walked closely with God and prepared the way for an entire generation to recognize and receive Jesus when He came. How exciting to think that our baby will be one set apart from the womb, whose life will prepare the way for many to meet Jesus. (How easily we forgot that with every calling, there is a cost).

More encouragement comes before the night is over. A layman in the church is a close friend to the guest minister and has travelled with him before. He is invited up at the end to share anything that he feels the Holy Spirit has been speaking to him. Without hesitation he points me out of the crowd and says, “I’m supposed to tell you that God is going to put a lot of vitamins and nutrients in your blood, making it rich with iron.” I almost fall out of my chair! This feels so incredibly personal after lamenting all day over my abnormal blood test! He shares words of encouragement with two more people and then asks for Shawn and I to come over to where he and his wife are so that they can pray for us. We tell them all about the test and the call that day. They encourage us, pray for us, and promise to be praying for us regularly. He asks us to bring the baby back to meet them after he’s born. Our hearts are soaring!

Before leaving, we purchase a book from the guest minister and ask him to sign it. He does so and jots down the scripture reference Isaiah 44:3-4…

For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out My Spirit on your offspring, and My blessing on your descendents. They will spring up like grass in a meadow, like poplar trees by flowing streams.

We feel like we are floating out of the church. With so much personal encouragement tonight, how could our baby possibly have Down syndrome?!