The Hard Stuff

The last week has been hard for me. As I approach the last two months (we aren't sure if we even have that amount of time) of pregnancy, we realized it was time to sit down an begin the necessary preparations for Thatcher and us. We have talked with Thatcher's pediatrician, counselors, hospice nurses, and contacted a funeral home this week. Hindsight, I probably should have spread these discussions out a little more, but I have been avoiding these tasks at all cost. My doctor was urging me not to put off birth plan decisions any longer as she needed to discuss them with her staff and file them with the hospital.

So, Tuesday night Jake and I sat down to have a talk that no parents should have to have. The questions seemed endless as we decided how we wanted to deal with every detail of the birth including staff, privacy, and how we wanted Thatcher monitored during birth, how and when we want our family (including our children) to meet him, and the contact for all persons regarding end of life care. One of the questions was incredibly difficult: did we want to be notified if his heart stopped beating during labor. A part of me wanted to answer "yes." I want to be aware of the moment that my son is called home to heaven. But a part of me wanted to answer "no," simply because I can't imagine having to continue with labor knowing that he was already gone. It may have been this question that caused reality to set in that this pregnancy is coming to an end. I feel like acknowledging this has set into motion a chain of events that may ultimately lead to us saying goodbye to our sweet son very soon.

I was reminded of Jesus as he made his way back to Jerusalem. He knew what laid before him...the pain and suffering that He would have to endure. I tried to put myself in his shoes as he struggled with his emotions. I imagined the fully-man part of his being wanting to just stop time and remain in the present moment. Maybe he wanted to stay in Bethany with his dear friends and avoid the Passover Feast all together. Then there was the fully-God part of him that knew his purpose. He knew he would be handed over and crucified in a matter of days. He pleaded with the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane: "Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine." Luke 22:40.  What an internal battle! I have found myself praying that same prayer every day. I want so desperately for God to take away that extra chromosome from every cell in Thatcher's body. I want him to be born perfectly healthy and thriving. But, I also want God's will to be done...no matter what that entails.

We have set up a meeting with a funeral home later this week. I did this not because I have given up on my son, but because I know I will not be able to handle these decisions after the fact. It was surreal to make that phone call while Thatcher was kicking and stretching in my belly. It was as if he was reminding me that he was still alive and strong. I will treasure all of these little reminders that this little life is a gift. Please continue to lift up our family in prayer over the next few weeks as we prepare to meet this miracle face-to-face.

Beauty in the Ugly

Two weeks ago, I decided to have an amniocentesis performed so that my family could begin to make the necessary preparations for our baby boy. I met with two doctors that both explained the possible complications and what all the scans were showing. I have prayed for clarity and peace for several weeks and I left the office feeling like God had provided both. I knew what the tests would show. I received a call five days later that confirmed what I already knew in my heart. Our son indeed has an extra 18th chromosome in every cell in his body.

My amniotic fluid levels are high, so the doctors want to keep monitoring me pretty closely. I keep thinking that the doctor appointments will get easier. After all, we are just hashing out the same facts that we have known now for weeks. What does not get easier, however, is hearing that our baby boy will die. For the first time in this journey, we had a doctor suggest ending the pregnancy. He told us we had plenty of evidence to cling to in order to justify such actions. I know doctors are trying to prepare my husband and me for what the odds say is inevitable, but I prefer to cling to hope. I know realistically that we may not have much time with our son, but any time will be precious and beautiful and I will allow God to decide when it is time for him to go home.

The last couple of weeks have been filled with tears, heartbreak, and some bouts of anxiety, but they have also been filled to the brim with an outpouring of love from those around us. Jesus has been manifesting himself through others taking care of our family with meals, phone calls, cards, encouragement, hugs, and most of all, prayers. This is an ugly part of life...these trials...but you can choose to see the beautiful through all the ugly. Our little boy, whom we have named Thatcher Yates, has touched so many lives already. His time on earth may be brief, but he has a mighty purpose that we are all seeing unfold before our eyes. 

The risk now becomes heart failure for him before he is born. It poses both a risk to him and myself so the doctors are watching us closely. It is our deepest desire to meet this handsome boy before his time is up. Please join us in prayer that we get to meet him, hold him, and tell him how much we love him before God calls him home.

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For while we live we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh."
-2 Corinthians 4:7-11.