This morning, we went to a fall-themed farm event with friends.
On the way home, we received the official report of our anatomy scan. It was as we thought (though not officially mentioned in the report): our baby is going to die. There is something wrong with the heart, something wrong with the kidneys/intestines, something wrong with a foot, and there is there is a large mass surrounding most of the baby. We are blessed to have 2 OB friends to help us prepare for what may come and interpret the obtuse medical jargon.
On the way home, we received the official report of our anatomy scan. It was as we thought (though not officially mentioned in the report): our baby is going to die. There is something wrong with the heart, something wrong with the kidneys/intestines, something wrong with a foot, and there is there is a large mass surrounding most of the baby. We are blessed to have 2 OB friends to help us prepare for what may come and interpret the obtuse medical jargon.
Months ago, one of our OB friends kindly offered to give us an ultrasound to take extra pictures and double check the gender (our oldest son was thought to be a girl). We had at first planned it to be a fun time. Instead, it turned into a precious time to see our baby alive.
Janette did not get a chance to see anything from the anatomy scan. They purposefully did not give us any pictures and turned the monitor away from her. It was if they did not want us to know about our baby.
Our OB friend gave us a scan this afternoon. She explained what we were seeing, printed a long strip of photos for us to take home, and guessed that our baby is probably a girl! These are rare snapshots of our baby: black and white and grainy, but precious nonetheless. Our OB friend thoughtfully prepared us questions to ask, and what to expect for our Tuesday scan. She prayed for us.
We are thankful for the community of people around us, who loves and cares for us, who we trust, who we know understand us. We could not imagine going through this, whatever this is, and whatever this looks like alone, without God, without eternal hope, without the grace of the community around us.
Janette did not get a chance to see anything from the anatomy scan. They purposefully did not give us any pictures and turned the monitor away from her. It was if they did not want us to know about our baby.
Our OB friend gave us a scan this afternoon. She explained what we were seeing, printed a long strip of photos for us to take home, and guessed that our baby is probably a girl! These are rare snapshots of our baby: black and white and grainy, but precious nonetheless. Our OB friend thoughtfully prepared us questions to ask, and what to expect for our Tuesday scan. She prayed for us.
We are thankful for the community of people around us, who loves and cares for us, who we trust, who we know understand us. We could not imagine going through this, whatever this is, and whatever this looks like alone, without God, without eternal hope, without the grace of the community around us.
Janette has a special attachment as she is caring for the baby. However, it has been hard for me feel a connection with our children until they are born. Now with the 2 boys to take care of most of the time, this baby has taken even less room in my mind. I know our time is short with the baby with only 4-5 months left, so I'm going to write letters to her during our brief time together.
Hello Baby,
We don’t know have a name for you yet, but maybe baby is appropriate: small, precious to us, and in need of us. Hi Baby, I can only see you filtered through a black and white gaze of a grainy ultrasound image on a 2D plane at these special visits. It's like you're in a prison and I'm restricted from seeing you and need a special machine to watch you suffering in your cell. We love you. We love you because you are ours, you can't do anything or tell us anything right now and never will, but we want the best for you. We want you to live and thrive and grow. I will never hear your heart beating when I hold you close, but only with this machine amplifying the rhythm of your heart. Thankfully, I hear a pulse of normalcy, of strength, thump, thump, thump, 160 beats per minute. You are alive and sound strong, though I know you are weak and the doctor says your heart is broken. Your mom and I rejoiced at your hands moving. You're alive, you're alive, we rejoice like we rejoiced when your brothers first talked, walked or rolled. Oh, the simple pleasures. The ultrasound image of your hands looked normal and baby-like with cute fingers on each side. The doctor explained that your whole head and body are a like a swollen mass, like a down jacket surrounding and connected to you. I'm sorry, Baby, I don’t know what you can feel, I hope it’s nothing. This will all end soon, it will get better. We will love you to the end."
Love, Baba
There are a million questions racing through our heads. Some questions are trivial, some are more important than others.
What does it mean to care for our child under these circumstances? To sacrifice for our child? How do we love our baby? How do we do carry our baby out of a love for our baby and not merely out of a sense of conviction and duty? We're not always sad every moment, is that wrong or bad of us? Is it because the kids are distracting us? How do we cultivate our marriage and relationships in this? How do we make sure our conversations with friends and life during this time don’t revolve around us and our sadness? How do we rejoice in others' babies and their new life? How do I lead my family through this? Is it wrong to try to avoid thinking about it sometimes? Is it wrong if at one point we don't cry anymore? How do we glorify God in all circumstances, in this circumstance? How do we make the most out of this? What is this, what is it, what is our circumstance?
I believe God has the power to heal our baby and perform a miracle. Is something wrong with me that I don't think He will. Is it to lower my expectations to prepare for the worse? Is it because I know it is not owed to us? Is it because I lack faith or because I know He is under no obligation? Would it be arrogant to believe that He will heal?
How do I believe in the hope of the miraculous yet prepare for the present?
We know we need to take this one step at a time and decide to make real decisions when this all becomes official on Tuesday.
One step at a time, one step at a time. I am not in control, the Lord is.
I am never in control, the Lord always is.
I am never in control, the Lord always is.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well
With my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul
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