One year ago, as of the 28th, we loaded up the family to go see the tiny bean inside me. Boy??? Girl??? We put in our guesses... Boy, Boy, Boy... Addie thought girl. We didn't care really. Just wanted to see healthy. Expected to see healthy. Everything up to that point had been A-ok. I layed on the table next to the ultrasound machine. The girls and Mike sat next to me watching as the doctor (the evil Dr. Shields) went about his merry way measuring and typing. Things were going much slower then I remembered them going with the girls. MUCH slower. My gut told me something wasn't right. Especially when he got to the heart. He spend SOOOOOO much time on the heart. At that point I said, "What do you see?" His answer gave me no comfort... something to the affect of, "Let me gather more information and I will explain when I am done." My heart sank. I vaguely remember laying their quietly for a moment. Then I tried to say some cute things to the girls so they wouldn't be worried... like, "look, that's the baby's heart... isn't it neat??" When inside a million thoughts are running through my head. When Dr. Evil was done he asked if I wanted the nurses to take the girls. Seriously??? How bad could it be? No, we told him, we are a family and they can stay. He proceeded to tell us that there was a laundry list of things wrong with the tiny bean inside of me. So wrong that "it didn't bode well for survival." So wrong that words like "genetic mutation", "terminate the pregnancy" were being spoken. When he said that, I couldn't even look at Mike or my sweet girls for fear my strength would be zapped away from my body and I would start balling. At the same time, (now looking back) I am shocked at the strength I did feel. I knew this was God's baby, but in times of trial, you really learn what your faith is made of. The craziest part is that I didn't even have to pray for strength. I didn't have time to. God knew the news we were going to get and granted me the strength I needed to tell the doctor termination was absolutely not an option. That this was God's baby and it wasn't our decision to end the life that was clearly growing inside of me. I remember the rest of the day being like an out of body experience. On our way home from the appt I called our pastor and asked if we could go to their house to pray We dropped the girls off with Beth and went and prayed for the tiny life that was fighting inside. At that point Beth knew nothing, other then I threw my kids out at her and drove off. When we got back I remember standing in her driveway and hugging her for what seemed like forever and it all just came out. Tears. Lots of tears. Mike and I took our girls home and sat them down and explained to them what happened. They knew the doctor said the baby may not live. Explain that to a 4 and 6 year old. We explained to them that God has a plan and sometimes we don't know it and we just have to wait and see. Wait. Trust. Wait some more. We told them that the baby may not live and that that was ok because maybe it wasn't the right baby for our family. I never in a million years thought I would have to explain that to my little girls. Thank goodness Mike is good at translating some of those big issues to tiny talk. Kailee had the hardest time with it. Probably cause she understood the most. As soon as they were settled and in bed I just remember Mike and I talking and I just kept saying it was like a dream. It didn't feel real. We replayed what Dr. Evil said over and over to make sure we had both heard the same thing. We prayed. And prayed. And prayed. And then we moved on and decided that we were not going to let this get us. This was our baby and he (we knew then the bean was a boy) was in God's hands and we were going to trust HIM.
It has been a LONG stinking year. We have gone to tons of appts, heard tons of statistics, read the faces of docs who are trying to let you down easy, met great nurses who would actually give you the real story, read the faces of docs who are SHOCKED that your baby is the baby he is today (like the latest heart miracle).
Joshua Michael. He wasn't "supposed" to live according to the medical world. He is living. He is thriving. He is a miracle that I thank God for over and over again.
One year ago today we were told that our baby would likely not make it to term alive. Well.... here is what he is up to:
He loves to be silly. Loves it and knows when he's being silly. Here he was talking and sporting a wig of mine from when I was sick....
He likes to crash out on the couch when he should be sleeping in his bed.... a battle we are currently waging.
He loves a good book. Adores books.
He also loves to give big slobbery, open mouth kisses, eat lots of baby food, kick in the bath, bang on anything and everything to make noise, blow rasberries, clap (with help, but he loves the sound his hands make when they clap together!), play peek-a-boo, hang out with his big sisters and we are SOOO close to sitting like a big boy!! We love him and are so thankful everyday for the miracle God gave our family. Thank you Lord for that gift!
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