Letting the Enemy In

The last couple of weeks I have struggled. Most of my moments are what others would define as "normal." I can make it through the daily routine without cratering. But, at the most random moments, when I let my guard down, the Enemy enters the scene. He tells me that I did nothing to save my son. He tells me that I am not an adequate mother. He tells me that I should be ashamed of our decision.

You see, my husband and I made a conscious decision, several weeks before Thatcher was born, to provide only comfort care for our son. It is a decision that was made out of love for our unborn child. We didn't want to put him through medical procedures and surgeries knowing that it would likely not change the outcome. His tiny extra chromosome had created chaos in his body and his breathing, feeding and heart were all affected.

As mothers and fathers, we will stop at nothing to take care of our children. But, when nothing will keep that extra chromosome from claiming the life of your child, what can you do? We chose to cry out to the Lord and allow His will to be done with Thatcher. We had to loosen our grip on our child and trust the Lord fully with his life...no matter what that looked like. It was a heartbreaking, yet freeing, decision.

Satan loves to use things in our life that we fully entrust God with to try and diminish our faith in Him. I am no stronger than any other person, and I have allowed Satan to steal moments. I have allowed his voice to enter in and wage war on my soul. I had one of these moments today while driving home from school. The tears began to flow as I thought of our time with Thatcher. Why didn't I request more care? Why didn't I save him? Then, I heard Hunter from the back seat: "Why are you so sad about Thatcher, mom? I wish he were still alive, too, but he's in heaven." And there, in my all-too-wise four-year-old is the voice I need. The voice reminding me that our decision was right for our son, even though it hurts.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Last week we received a blow that we are trying to stop spinning from.

Let me first back up by starting at the beginning of our year:
We were expecting another child and were so excited. Those hopes were dashed when we went in for our first ultrasound and there was no heartbeat. After a few months, the healing process incomplete, we found out we were expecting...again! The initial tests didn't look promising and our doctor told us to prepare for the inevitable miscarriage, which came one week later. The tests began...and we were left with more questions than answers. Our doctor could not tell us why we had now lost three babies (two of which happened after we had two uneventful, perfectly healthy pregnancies.) We were definitely looking at our children with new eyes. We were beginning to see what miracles and gifts from God they truly are.

Fast forward a month and we were remarkably expecting another child after two miscarriages this year...the one in August still so fresh. We were so scared, so hopeful, so unsure. The initial blood work all looked great and our first ultrasound showed a HEARTBEAT! Whew...such a glorious sight after the year we have had. We had all the routine blood work and a new test that checks for chromosomal abnormalities and gender. We were so excited to be at this point and I was/was not pumped about the usual pregnancy symptoms.

So, back to last week...I was at home with sick kids, not feeling so great myself and my doctor called. It's never a good sign when your doctor personally calls you to discuss test results. She informed us that our baby boy had tested positive for Trisomy 18. I didn't even have words to respond with. The nurse scheduled an appointment for us with a perinatologist.

The prayers began. I'm so grateful to be a part of a community that is full of prayer warriors. People have surrounded us the last few days with phone calls, emails, visits and love. It has been amazing to see God lift us up and surround us with His grace in the midst of all my doubts, fear, and distrust. I was, and still am, praying for a miracle. I'm praying for the test results to be wrong and praying that we welcome a healthy, perfect boy into the world in May.

Today, we met for our first visit with the perinatologist and genetics counselor. We saw beautiful images for our son and his cute profile, his perfect-looking hands and feet. All parts were accounted for, but I was left uneasy while the sonographer kept looking at the umbilical cord. A second sonographer came in to re-check. I was getting sick to my stomach. The doctor came in, after what seemed like an eternity, and chatted about what we though and noted how cute our baby was. He said our baby's growth was right on track...whew!

Then the news: the umbilical cord only has two vessels. I tried to wrap my layman mind around what this meant. I understood the inefficiency aspect and possible slow late term growth. But, when the counselor explained to us that two-vessel umbilical cords are potentially a marker for chromosomal abnormalities, my hope began to fade. She talked about our options for further diagnostic testing, which my husband and I refused. I was fully engaged until she mentioned the resources available. As soon as the word hospice left her mouth, I checked out. I had received all the information that I could possibly absorb and my hands were beginning to shake. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

So...where do we go from here?

We wait...which is one of the worst parts. Being stuck in this limbo of "not knowing" is terrible. We have the next 5 weeks to continue to pray for a miracle.