Satan Lies

He is the master of deception. He’s cunning and is smart enough not to use bold faced lies with us. He whispers ideas in our head that we can rationalize to the point of belief. He loves to give us things that we can roll around in our brain and ponder. Sometimes it can be things for our own pleasure. Satan will tell us that we deserve that sin, or that it’s not really a sin. Sometimes it can be ideas that bring us despair and anxiety. We deliberate on these ideas and convince ourselves that those little voices are true and we are undeserving of love, acceptance, and unity with Christ. It is Satan’s reward when allow ourselves to believe that God doesn’t care about us.

I know I have touched on this before, but I’m saying it again…SATAN LIES! He has been whispering lies in my ear for quite some time. Initially it was the lie that God didn’t care about me or my sweet Thatcher. Then, once I released that lie and submitted to God’s plan, Satan began telling me that I wasn’t strong enough to let Thatcher go. When I didn’t give into that lie, Satan began telling me that I was a weak mother for not fighting for my son. I could have done something…anything…to save him. He has beaten me at my weakest point, and left me crying in absolute despair.

But, I am here to tell you that our God is bigger. He is sovereign. He is walking right next to you and me through the hard stuff. He weeps with  us when we are in the midst of deep sorrow. He promises to uphold us with his right hand. He loves my child and will use this terrible event for good. I have seen  how many lives my little boy touched in his short time on earth, but there are many more that I'm sure I will never know about.

The waves of doubt and grief will continue to ebb and flow. Some days are darker than others, but I will not surrender to the lies that the enemy speaks. I will continue to hold onto the hope that I have in my Savior and the peace that one day there will be no more pain or tears.

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.

A Glimpse of His Grace

I have tried to write this post so many times, but just can't seem to find the words to describe the most gut-wrenching and beautiful day of my life.

Here goes...

Two weeks ago, I visited my OB for my weekly visit and ultrasound. My husband decided he wanted to be there for this appointment. He hadn't skipped work the last few months to accompany me. I think it was so hard for him to continue going just to receive more bad news. This day was different. My doctor told me we needed to have a heart-to-heart and I knew the time had come. She told us that Thatcher was beginning to show signs of heart failure as fluid was beginning to build up around his lungs. The amniotic fluid level had also increased to the point that it was becoming hard to breathe and do normal activities. When I left her office, I felt like I was in a fog. All through my pregnancy, I had wanted time to stand still so that I could have Thatcher forever. Now, time was speeding out of control and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Jake took the next day off work so that we could get a few last chores done before Thatcher's arrival. That afternoon, we went back to the doctor so she could place a Foley Bulb. I felt very strongly about not inducing with drugs because I wanted a stress-free delivery for our son. I knew the odds were stacked against him with his condition and gender, but I serve a mighty God and I believed that He would give me the time I and so many others had prayed for.

After we dropped the kids off with their grandparents, labor really kicked in. After about an hour, the contractions really picked up and I knew it wouldn't take long. At 11:00 that evening, Jake took me to the hospital. By the time we got checked in and settled in a room, my contractions were coming every minute and I was really far along. I remember the moment my water broke, I was caught between relief from the pain and fear. My mind raced with what the next few hours would bring, but I was grateful for the relief from the intensity.

After three short pushes, Thatcher Yates Kelley made his entrance into the world at 2:17AM. He was a terrible gray color, and he wasn't breathing. His cord had been wrapped around his neck and I felt my world crashing down as they wrapped him in a blanket. Our family's pediatrician was present for the birth and gently handed me my lifeless son. My husband and I wept.

After what seemed like an eternity, Thatcher gasped for air and opened his eyes. God had answered our prayers and allowed us to meet our son. My heart was full. I cannot even begin to describe the emotion in that hospital room.

 

Thatcher was with us for four beautiful hours. He experienced several apnea episodes, but his heart kept beating strong. I had a sense of peace, like Jesus was present in that room with us. I began silently praying for God to take our little boy home. We had just finished with the Easter season. I had read and re-read the story of Lazarus over the last few weeks and I felt like I was right there with Mary and Martha. I had uttered those same words so many times: "Even now, Lord..." Even now I knew that Thatcher could be made well, if that had been God's will. But never had John 11:4 been so real: "But when Jesus heard about it he said, 'Lazarus's sickness will not end in death. No, it happened for the glory of God so that the Son of God will receive glory from this.'" There it was. God was going to use this ugly circumstance to bring His Son glory. As we sat there in the quiet morning hours of April 17th, I held my son while his little heart stopped beating. I know Jesus was in that room with us, and I know he wept with us, just as he wept with Martha and Mary. We were allowed to see a glimpse of His holiness, grace, and peace and for that, I will forever be grateful. 

                                     

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.

Broken Hearted

Yesterday we got a call from the perinatologist that and opening had come up and the cardiologist could see us. We, of course, jumped at the opportunity. It seemed better to rip the band-aid off and not wait another three weeks to take an in-depth look at our son's heart. As she continued to call out medical terms that we didn't understand, I felt that all too familiar wave coming over me. A wave of anxiety, of sadness, of diminishing hope, of queasiness. She took the time to draw us a diagram and explain to us all that was wrong with our son's tiny heart, the major issue being that he has a double outlet right ventricle. Basically, our son is broken hearted. He has a condition that can only be fixed by open heart surgery.

We have been avoiding making an:y plans thus far, but now we are faced with many decisions all at once. We had been adamant about not going through amnio because it did pose a slight risk to the baby. Any risk seemed far too great after the losses we had experienced over the past year. But now, we were faced with a greater risk: deliver locally, and there may not be adequate medical care to save our son. The time had come to re-evaluate. If, however, he does have Edwards syndrome, the cardiologist would refuse to operate. Too much was left riding on this diagnosis, now.

I made an appointment with my OB this morning to discuss our options and to get her honest opinion. She took the time to explain all the findings and talk about our concerns. She was direct: delivery locally was not an option if our son did not have a chromosome abnormality. She was also honest in her feelings of the blood screening that we had done previously. The amniocentesis needed to be done in order to move forward.

After I got home, I got a call from the pediatric cardiologist. She chatted briefly about our family and wanted to check on my husband and me to make sure we were okay and if she could answer any questions. It is nice to have doctors that are willing to take the time and genuinely care about your well-being. She agreed that no steps could be made until the amniocentesis was performed.

As I tried to sleep last night, I cried to God to heal our baby. It has been the same prayer every day for the last two-and-a-half months. I want so desperately for my prayers to be answered the way I want them to be answered: with a miraculous healing and birth of a healthy baby boy that we can hold and love on for years to come. But, that is my will and I have come to realize that our will does not always coincide with God's. Just like Job, we are not always privy to see God's bigger picture. But, we are assured of God's higher plan in Isaiah 59:11, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."  We also can be assured of God's love and good will for our lives in Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." We are holding onto these as we prepare for the future that we face...however uncertain that may be.