A Lifetime of Memories

Christmas was bittersweet this year. It was sweet to be at home with the boys and to see their expressions on Christmas morning. Caleb has been singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" for a few weeks now. I am not sure whether or not he made the connection on Christmas morning that Santa had come to town, but it was a joy to hear him sing. The boys both told me that their favorite gift was a $1 jump rope in their stockings -- no surprise. It is the little things in life that bring the most joy.

David had a stocking and a few other small items under the tree. Benjamin opened David's presents for him, and we enjoyed the time together. Tommy said that he had always wanted to have three little boys, and for this one Christmas his wish came true. All three of our little boys were present with us to celebrate Christmas day. It was a day that I will never forget.

Over the past week, a deep sadness has slowly crept over me, growing a bit stronger with each passing day. The phrase "Happy New Year" is not one that I can bring myself to say this year. The year 2010 does not represent happiness to me. The clock is ticking, and our time with David is growing shorter each day. It doesn't seem fair. Sometimes, I find myself throwing temper tantrums with God. "Why, Lord? Why me? Why this child?"

Many things do not make sense to me. Benjamin loves babies. He loves to hold his cousin Max, and he talks to him so sweetly. Whenever we see a baby, Benjamin gets down on his knees to talk to the baby. "Of all of the brothers in the world, why Lord, are you taking away Benjamin's baby brother?" Even my little bulldozer Caleb has a special place in his heart for "bebes." He loves to talk to them and to touch them. Sometimes, he tries to poke out Max's eyes, but I can honestly say that it is out of love. Benjamin and Caleb have an exceptional love for babies, so why must their baby brother be taken from them?

There are many things that I want to teach David and so many moments that I want to share with him ... his first smile, his first word, his first step. I will never get to potty-train him or teach him how to dress himself. Instead, I am forced to make a lifetime of memories with him in a few short months, and when it is all said and done, my arms will be empty with no baby to rock to sleep at night. Right now, these thoughts are almost too difficult for me to bear. At times, it is hard to breathe with the heavy weight that is bearing down on me.

We are making "arrangements" for David's burial and memorial service now in order to alleviate some of the stress later. There is a beautiful cemetery near my parents' home where we will probably lay our precious David to rest. Tommy and I are going to visit it sometime this weekend. When Tommy first called to inquire about their services, the man who answered the phone was the same person who sold us our home almost 8 years ago. I felt a certain peace knowing that we had a connection with the person who would walk us through this difficult process.

It is a horrible feeling to plan for the death of a child who is still squirming and hiccuping inside of me. It feels like a bad dream, and sometimes I just wish that I could wake up and realize that it isn't really happening. We desperately need your prayers as we walk through the next few months. Please pray that the grief will not overwhelm us, but instead that the peace of God that passes all understanding will rule our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Pray that we will enjoy a lifetime of memories in 2010.

The Road of Uncertainty

Our journey since David's diagnosis 10 weeks ago has been marked with uncertainty. Although all of the specialists agree that his condition is fatal, it seems like every time we go to another doctor's appointment, we are told some new and different piece of information.

Sometimes, I feel like there are more questions than answers. What type of lethal skeletal dysplasia does David have? Is it a new mutation or a recessive gene that has suddenly emerged? How long will I be able to carry him in my womb? Will I experience complications with my pregnancy? Will he die in utero, or will he be born alive and live a few hours, days, weeks or months? At times, all of the uncertainty feels like more than I can bear.

All of the guesswork has made it clear that the science of medicine is limited by the confines of human comprehension. Man's knowledge is but a drop of water in the ocean of God's wisdom. Only the Creator of the universe knows and understands the intricacies of His creation. The Psalmist said, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." Psalm 139:13.

If God knit baby David together in my womb, then He chose to knit him with this genetic mutation, which will eventually lead to his death. Since I cannot understand God's plan in all of this, I must trust His wisdom and His goodness. "The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever." Deuteronomy 29:29.

Despite my frustration with all of the uncertainty, God has given me the grace to trust that He is working out each and every detail. He even uses human ignorance to work out His wonderful plans for His beloved. In Matthew 6:34, my Father told me "not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." As God provided for the Israelites in the wilderness, He provides me with my daily bread, not my weekly or monthly bread. His mercies are new every morning - great is His faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23.

The enemy has tried to cause confusion and anxiety through the uncertainty, but my Heavenly Father is using the enemy's tactics for my good, as He produces in me endurance, character and hope. Romans 5:3-5. God's word assures me that there are no oversights or mistakes in His plan. There are only speed bumps in the road that He has paved by His sovereign grace.

The Kiss of Affliction

This past week Matt Chandler, a prominent young pastor of a growing Dallas church, had surgery to remove a brain tumor after he collapsed at home on Thanksgiving morning. Chandler has significantly influenced Tom and me over the past couple of years, and he continues to encourage us in this trial. In response to the news of his tumor, he said, "There is this part of me that is so grateful that the Lord counted me worthy for this." These are my sentiments exactly.

Words are inadequate to describe the great love that the Father has shown me in this trial over the past 8 weeks. It has been completely overwhelming. Though the first taste was bitter, the mercy and grace that the Father has lavishly poured out has been so sweet. While I have cried many tears of sadness, I have also cried many tears of joy at the realization of the magnitude of the Father's great love for me ... that He would count me worthy to endure this trial and to be loved by Him with such intensity.

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you (I Peter 4:12). Do not be afraid, but take courage. Trust your Heavenly Father and the great love that He has for you as His child. "The clouds ye so much dread are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head. His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour. The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower." ~ William Cowper

George Mueller, a great man of faith, read Psalm 119:68 at his wife's funeral, "Thou art good, and doest good." The basis of his message was that God was good to give him his wife, God was good to give them many years together, and God was good in taking her from him. He said, "I will miss her in numberless ways, but I continually kiss the hand that afflicts me." Mueller could say this with integrity because He knew the intimate love of His Heavenly Father.

I kiss the hand that afflicts me because it is the sweetest hand of all.

Celebrating Life

It is hard to believe that it has been seven weeks since we were first told of David's diagnosis. I can tell you that time flies, whether you are having fun or not. In those first few days after hearing the shocking news, I remember thinking, "How will I get through the next four months of my life? How can I walk around pregnant with this little life kicking inside of me knowing full well that he will not come home with me from the hospital?" I was consumed by these thoughts and overwhelmed with grief. I remember telling my sister Jenn how I wished that someone could just put me into a coma for the next several months.

At the beginning, I cried and cried as I tried to envision the next year of my life. "How will I endure this torture?" I thought. Each time I went to see another doctor for another ultrasound, I secretly hoped that the baby's heart was no longer beating. Why couldn't this all just end? I remember one day as Tommy and I stood in the kitchen discussing these things, he turned to me and asked, "Wouldn't it be nice if we could spend these next few months celebrating his life?" This infuriated me. "Celebrate his life?" I thought. "How insensitive can you be? You are not the one who has to carry this baby for the next twenty weeks."

Well, over time God has changed my heart and brought me to a place where I am enjoying this precious time with David. His tiny kicks and flips bring a smile to my face. Even though I cannot hold him in my arms, he is with me every moment, part of every conversation, and I am making memories with him each and every day.

Tommy and I recently decided that it was time to tell Benjamin and Caleb about David's diagnosis. We wanted to give them every opportunity to celebrate and enjoy David's life as a part of our family. So, last Tuesday evening we sat them down on the couch and told them the news. I explained David's condition in very simple terms and told them that David will probably go to heaven when he is born because his lungs will not work. Benjamin did not want to believe me at first, but the reality soon hit home, and his eyes filled with tears. We cried together on the couch. He looked at me and said, "Mommy, I'm sad that Baby David is going to die." All I could say was, "Mommy is sad too ... Mommy is sad too."

I casually mentioned David a couple of times over the next few days. On Thanksgiving, we played the thankful game and took turns sharing things that we were thankful for. When it was my turn, I said, "I'm thankful for Benjamin, Caleb and David." Benjamin completely ignored my reference to David as he replied, "I'm thankful for Caleb." I did not press the issue because I did not want to push him. After all, it took me days to come to the place where I could speak a sentence without crying. Benjamin needed time to process and deal with the difficult news.

Today, Benjamin and I went to the grocery store together, and the cashier started to ask questions about the baby. She turned to Benjamin and asked him if he was going to have a baby brother or sister. "Oh no," I thought, "what will he say?" He casually answered that he was going to have a baby brother and that his name was David. I breathed a sigh of relief.

We put up our Christmas decorations today and hung a stocking for David. Tonight, Benjamin came and sat on my lap, rubbed my belly and said, "That's my baby brother David." "Yes," I answered, "he loves it when you talk to him." So, Benjamin began to 'tickle' my stomach and talk about how he was five years older than David. Then, he leaned over, kissed my belly and said, "I love you." What a priceless moment.

I pray that we have many more priceless moments together as we celebrate this Christmas season as a family of five. David is very much alive and part of every memory that we make. We love him dearly and will cherish every moment as we celebrate his precious life.

Wine in the Cellar

“Count it all joy when you meet various trials," says James 1:2. Count it all joy? Really? I think that we are told to be joyful in suffering because joy magnifies the worth and greatness of Christ, above all else. God told Abraham in Genesis 15:1, “I am … your exceeding great reward.” It is easy to say that Christ is my great reward in times of ease, but how can I know for sure that He is truly my chief treasure unless I am forced to surrender a very precious jewel?

This is not a test that I wish to take, but God in his infinite wisdom and goodness knows what is best for me. I suppose that one reason God ordained my present suffering was to establish my delight in Him in the face of losing my precious baby boy. The Word of God says that this momentary affliction is preparing me for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. I hold on to this promise.

When Barbara Youderian lost her missionary husband Roger in January 1956 she responded, “God gave me this verse two days ago, Psalm 48:14: For this God is our God forever and ever; he will be our Guide even to the end. As I came face to face with the news of Roj’s death, my heart was filled with praise. He was worthy of his homegoing.” What a testimony of grace in the face of tremendous suffering. I pray that God would grant me such abundant grace in the face of incredible loss.

A few years ago, I watched an episode of “A Baby Story” on television. The show depicted a mother giving birth to a child that died shortly after delivery due to respiratory failure. I remember sitting there weeping as I watched the show thinking, “That would be unbearable.” I have never watched the show since that time.

Now, here I am, facing the same scenario. We have been told that our David will probably die of respiratory failure shortly after birth. By far, this is the most difficult news that I have ever been given in my entire life. Nothing that I have experienced to date comes close to comparing with this heartache; however, it is not “unbearable” in the way that I once thought it would be. I know that the worst is yet to come, but God is showing me in very tangible ways that His grace is sufficient – for today.

I guess that I was both right and wrong. At times, the thought of losing a child is unbearable. There are moments when I feel as though I cannot continue to walk this journey; yet my Heavenly Father, in His grace, is carrying me through one step at a time. His grace is sufficient, and He is giving me joy in Him as He gently reassures me of His great love for me. Samuel Rutherford said that the Great King keeps his wine in the cellars of affliction – not in the courtyard where the sun shines.

The riches of God’s grace are experienced most fully in the moments of my deepest pain, and I think that I am beginning to taste the wine of the Great King in this cellar of suffering.

One in a Thousand

The other night Tom and I were driving home from small group, and a song came on the radio called "Heaven Is the Face" by Steven Curtis Chapman. I had never heard it before, but I discovered that it was written by Chapman after the sudden, unexpected death of his little girl last year. The words brought me to tears. I could identify with his feelings of confusion, grief and hope.

The following day, I turned on the radio and this same song was playing again. I thought to myself, "Hmmm, I am starting to see a pattern here ... maybe I should buy this song." When I went online to buy the song, I noticed that Chapman had written an entire album about the depth of his grief over the loss of his precious daughter and God's faithfulness in it. As God would have it, this album was released just last week. Coincidence? I think not.

You see, I discovered this album just a few hours after seeing another ultrasound of Baby David. During the ultrasound, the physician said, "You know, medicine is never 100% certain, but I am as close to 100% as one can be about the certainty of this diagnosis." He said that David has a form of lethal skeletal dysplasia that causes his bones to be very brittle. He showed me several places where it appeared that David's bones were badly fractured. My heart broke all over again. This news had gone from bad to worse.

Before seeing the pictures of his little broken bones, I had thought that the pain of this suffering was only affecting me and Tom. Now, we were faced with the possibility that this precious child may be experiencing pain because of his broken bones. I was overwhelmed with sorrow. As the tears streamed down my face, I asked the physician if the baby was in pain. He said, "No one really knows how babies in utero experience pain." Another stab to my heart. Instead of answers, I was left with more questions.

Why God is allowing this to happen, I do not know, but I am confident of this - God is good. His kindness is beyond measure. He knows the number of hairs on David's tiny head. If He sees when a sparrow falls to the ground and He clothes the lilies of the field in beautiful splendor, He most certainly knows every fracture in Baby David's body. The Father's love for my precious baby boy is far greater than I could ever imagine. So, I am praying and trusting that my gracious God is taking care of this precious child. I feel so helpless, but I rejoice all the more gladly in my helplessness because I know that when I am weak, my God is strong.

In listening to Chapman's album, I hear his brokenness, and I imagine that he must have asked many of the same questions that I am now asking. I am sure that he and his wife Mary Beth have wondered many times why God allowed their little girl to be taken from them. John Piper says that God is always doing thousands of things that we cannot see. He never has only one purpose in what He does. He always has thousands of purposes, in everything He does. He is infinitely wise, and everything He does relates to everything else that He does sooner or later. For those who love Him and are called according to His purpose, all of them work together for good.

My mind is small, and I cannot see or understand the thousands of things that God is doing. I find comfort in the knowledge that God could use the unexplainable tragedy of the death of Maria Sue Chapman to minister to me in my time of need ... and I am just one in a thousand purposes that God is working together for good.

Like a Child

Thankfully, God was gracious to keep our Benjamin from asking any questions about Baby David for the first couple of weeks after learning the heart-wrenching news about his condition. I did not want to talk to Benjamin about the baby, and I prayed that he would not ask questions. Benjamin saw me crying from time to time, and he would say to me, "Mommy, do your eyes hurt?" "Yes," I would say, thinking to myself that I was telling him the truth because my whole head ached from continuous crying.

I tried to avoid wearing maternity clothing. On the days that I did not go to the office, I wore warm-up suits since I could camouflage my stomach under a jacket. I hoped that concealing my belly would make Benjamin, and everyone else, forget that I was pregnant. "Don't ask - don't tell." That was my new philosophy. I no longer wanted to be referred to as "cute and pregnant." I just wanted my belly to disappear, for it was a constant reminder to me and everyone else of the life inside of me.

A few of days ago, I had to take Benjamin to see the doctor. Remembering that the last time we went to the doctor was for Baby David's ultrasound, he asked, "Mommy, when is the doctor going to take out your baby?" If you are not familiar with five-year-old dialect, this question can be interpreted as, "when will the baby be born?" My heart skipped a beat. "Oh no," I thought. I guess I was hoping that he had forgotten about the baby. Trying to answer his question as calmly and casually as possible, I said, "Oh, it will be a long time." After all, four months is like an eternity to a five-year-old.

Continuing on with the conversation, Benjamin said, "Do you mean March?" "Yes," I answered, worried that he had caught on to more detail that I had anticipated. I explained that March was still four months away and quickly changed the subject. I was afraid that Benjamin may begin to entertain more questions to ask about the baby. What would I say? How do you explain to a five-year-old that he may never get to meet his tiny baby brother?

Since my grandmother passed away this past July, Benjamin is somewhat familiar with the concept of death. He brings it up from time to time, usually stating that Grandma died, and she is now in heaven. I am glad that he seems to understand this concept, to the extent that a five-year-old mind can grasp such things. However, I am almost certain that he thinks that death only applies to old people. Oh, how I wish that this were true.

Tom and I agree that it is not yet time to share the news of Baby David's condition with Benjamin. Since we can hardly comprehend this tragic news ourselves, we do not have the capacity to try and explain it to our son right now, nor do we think that he is ready to hear it. I know that God will provide the grace when the time is right, which may not be until the time of David's birth. Until that time, I am hoping and praying that God will prepare his little heart to understand. I am also praying that God will prepare my heart to understand "like a child" because I truly do not.

Called by Name

A couple of months ago, I asked our oldest son, Benjamin, what he thought we should name the baby. He immediately said, "David," and I was offended by the fact that he automatically assumed that the baby was a boy since I was desperately hoping for a girl. So, I proceeded to ask, "What if the baby is a girl?" He thought about it a minute and then said, "If the baby is a girl, we should name her Dancer." "Wonderful," I thought, "just the name I had in mind."

I had not even thought about boy names, somehow convincing myself that if I didn't pick a boy name, it would increase my chances of having a girl. Anyway, I had almost exhausted my list of favorite boy names: Benjamin, Caleb, Elijah ... I was running out of options. So, when we were told that we were expecting another little boy, it was back to the drawing board to pick a boy name .... again.

This time, however, there was a certain urgency behind picking a name and making sure that it was the right one. The meaning behind a name has always been important to me, now more than ever before. We had to pick the right name soon because the clock was ticking, and every minute that passed signified less time to spend with Baby and less opportunity to call him by name.

In my previous two pregnancies, it seemed as though the forty weeks leading up to birth were only a quiet prelude to the new life that would soon change our world. This time, however, the forty weeks of pregnancy (with only 18 weeks left now) is the main event, and we must cherish every fleeting moment. As such, it became imperative that Tom and I agree on a name for Baby ... pronto.

The only problem is that for Tom and me to agree on much of anything is quite a feat. We are both opinionated and stubborn. Thankfully, we are learning ... but my, oh my, this is a long learning process. As we were thinking and praying about what to name Baby, I received the following message from a dear sister in Christ: "I have been lifting you and your son before the Throne of our Almighty God and Father. He is truly the Father of all compassion and also the worker of miracles. As I prayed for your precious son according to Psalm 139, I sensed Him telling me to pray for him 'by name'."

This was yet another confirmation that Baby needed a name. Even though our Heavenly Father already knew his name, I wanted to know too! So, after much prayer and deliberation, Tom and I agreed to name him David ("beloved") Nathaniel ("gift of God"). Now, I know that our five-year-old was right after all. We are having a boy, and his name is to be called David. And oh, how this precious child is our beloved gift of God. He is a gift that I am holding on to for dear life.

When You Don’t Know What To Pray

Last year, God called me to prayer. I know that this probably sounds strange coming from someone who accepted Christ as a young child. Prayer is a staple of the Christian life, right? Well, I guess that I must be pretty thick-headed because I had to be specifically called to pray. I will spare you all of the details, but suffice it to say that when God calls you to do something, He always provides the necessary tools.

God provided me with an amazing mentor in prayer, and she and I began a study titled "Prayer Portions" by Sylvia Gunter. This study has ministered to me immensely, and I have no doubt that one reason God gave this gift to me was to help prepare me for "such a time as this."

When I received the news of Baby's condition last week, I could barely complete a sentence. I thought that the tears would never stop flowing, and I had no words to pray other than, "Lord, please let this cup pass from me." Unbeknownst to me, my precious mentor contacted Sylvia Gunter to share our struggle, and Sylvia responded by praying the following truths over me and Tom, which have greatly encouraged my heart:

• God is sovereign. All authority, all power is His. Matthew 28:18.


• Nothing takes Him by surprise. All circumstances are His servants. He knows the end from the beginning. Psalm 119:91, Isaiah 46:9-10.


• His word is forever settled in heaven. Psalm 119:89.


• Romans 8:28-29 is still in our Bible. He does all things for our good and His glory, to conform us to the likeness of Jesus.


• There is no circumstance, person, place, or time that the blood of Jesus does not cover. The one who spared not His own Son will freely give us all His best things. Romans 8:31-32.


• He promises that He is for us and nothing can separate us from His love. That was settled on the cross. Romans 8:35–39.


• His lovingkindness never ceases. His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. His faithfulness is great. Lamentations 3:22–23.


• He supplies all our needs by His riches in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19.


• He knows and cares. The very hairs of our head are numbered. Matthew 10:30.


• He promises that He is God of all comfort, Father of mercies. 2 Corinthians 1:3–4.


• He is able to supply His abundant grace to us in this situation, so that in all things, at all times, we have all of His sufficient grace we need for encouragement and hope. 2 Corinthians 9:8.


• He is able to show His perfect power in our weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9–10.


• We can know with certainty that He is able to guard what we have entrusted to Him. 2 Timothy 1:12.


• He promises that He is our strength, our shield, our strong tower, our refuge, our hope, our joy, our peace, our everything, our all. Psalm 18:1–3, Colossians 3:11b.


• He promises to renew our strength as we wait on Him. Isaiah 40:31.


• He promises that He never leaves us nor forsakes us. He is with us, a very present help. Hebrews 13:5–6.


• He never goes back on a promise. Joshua 21:45.


• He has a heart that tears can touch and invites us to climb up in the Father’s lap and just cry. Hebrews 4:15, Psalms 56:8.


• He gives gladness instead of mourning and praise instead of fainting. Weeping endures for a night, but He gives the joy that comes in the morning. Isaiah 61:3, Psalm 30:5.


• He is enthroned on the praises of His children. Psalm 22:3.


• When we lift Him up continually in a sacrifice of praise, we glorify Him in this situation in the here-and ­now. John 12:28a.

Suffering by Surprise

Deep down, I have always had a tugging feeling that someday, somehow, God would call me to write. I never dreamed that it would be amidst lurking tragedy in my own life. So, here goes my attempt to obey the calling that I believe that God has placed on my life during this time.

Last Monday, Tom and I went to the doctor to see the 20-week ultrasound for our 3rd child. This event had been much debated and greatly anticipated by friends and family. You see, Tom and I have two little boys, and my sister and brother-in-law also have two little boys. The ironic thing is that my mom and dad "mimi and papa" have always desperately wanted a granddaughter. Although we all dearly love our little boys, we were all hopefully optimistic that this would be our girl. As a matter of fact, we took a vote last Saturday evening, and the vote was unanimous! This baby was sure to be a girl!

While Tom and I had strongly considered having baby #3, so far, the timing just seemed to be wrong. Tom was still in seminary (to finish this December), and I felt as though I had no more bandwidth to offer another child while I was working to help support the family and raising two small children at home. However, God had other plans. While Tom was on a mission trip in Kenya this summer, I had the surprise of my life! Tom and I were expecting our 3rd child. To say that I was shocked is an understatement. "Well," I thought, "I guess that God has made the decision for us - no more waiting around. We will have another child in accordance with God's timing, not ours."

It took a few weeks for me to adjust to the idea, but as time passed, my shock began to turn to peace and even some excitement. I knew that even though this new life may present some challenges for us financially, God is our faithful provider. As Joyce Meyer says, "What God orders, He pays for." Our gracious Heavenly Father knew exactly what He was doing. This was not an "accident" or an "unplanned" pregnancy; rather, it was planned by God before the foundation of the world. What peace came with the knowledge that our gracious God was sovereign and fully in control over our circumstances.

Time passed quickly since we received the news in June of our new arrival to come the first of March. I had debated as to whether or not to find out the gender of the baby before my due date. Would it be better to "wait and see" or to find out ahead of time? Tom and I finally decided that we wanted to know sooner than later, so I braced myself for the news as we drove to the doctor's office last Monday morning.

Our appointment was scheduled for 9:15 a.m., but we learned soon after our arrival that the ultrasound tech had an "emergency" and was not coming to work. "You have got to be kidding me" was my immediate reaction. I had scheduled that appointment two months earlier, and my entire family was "standing by" in anxious anticipation to hear the long-awaited news. My mom and sister had tried to get me to take a gender test that is now available in drugstores a few weeks beforehand, but I had resisted, feeling that I was not yet ready to discover the news of my fate to be a mother of three little boys. However, by the time that October 12, 2009, rolled around, I was ready. I could not get this ultrasound over quickly enough. I wanted to know so that we could finally move on to a different topic of conversation at family dinners.

The receptionist at the doctor's office gave us the option to reschedule the appointment to another day. My answer was a resounding "no." "We must get this done today," I said. "My husband has taken off work, and I am going out of town." What I was really thinking was, "I cannot bear to wait another day. You have no idea how much distress it will cause if I have to tell all of my friends and family that we still don't know the gender."

So, the receptionist graciously sent us to another location where they could "see us immediately." Well, needless to say, my definition of "immediately" was not the same their definition of "immediately." After arriving at the new location, we sat and sat. By this time, Caleb and Benjamin were running all over the waiting room. An older lady was quick to remind us, "you know, there are sick people here." "Really? Is that why people come to the doctor's office?" I thought. In all my training in college and law school, I had never heard of such a thing. Coming to the doctor's office when you are sick - what a novel concept. Anyway, Tom and I tried our best to keep the boys under control until I was finally called back at noon. Unfortunately for Tom, he had to remain in the waiting room with the boys until the end of the ultrasound.

Since I had previously had two 20-week ultrasounds with Benjamin and Caleb, I pretty much knew what to expect. "This should not take longer than twenty minutes or so," I thought. Soon, the waiting would be over - we would finally know - boy or girl. Well, twenty minutes turned into an hour and a half. I finally went out to tell Tom and the boys to grab some lunch. I had been informed that we were having another boy, but the ultrasound tech needed to take more pictures. When I returned to the room, the radiologist came in. Suddenly, I realized ... something was wrong. The fact that Baby was a boy didn't matter anymore - the only thing that mattered was that our baby boy was healthy.

I asked the radiologist what was wrong. He was slow to answer and vague at that. "We are looking at some suspicious findings," he said. "I don't want to alarm you at this point; we need to take a closer look at a few things - that's all." "Well, too late for that," I said. "I am already alarmed." "Can you tell me what you are looking at?" I asked. "We are looking at the length of the arms and legs and the size of the ribcage," he said. "I will send a report to your OBGYN this afternoon after taking a closer look at the pictures." The ultrasound tech gave me a sympathetic smile and said, "Thank you for being such a wonderful patient." As I got up to leave she said, "I'm sorry."

Tom and I drove home in the pouring rain. I was in a complete daze. This was news that neither of us had expected. A problem with Baby? What kind of problem? How could this happen? About an hour after our arrival home, my OBGYN called. "I just got off the phone with the radiologist, and I am sending a referral for you to see a specialist," she said. "He will call you to schedule an appointment." "Why, what is wrong?" I begged for more information. "Well, it appears as though your baby has some form of dwarfism, although I see no history of dwarfism in your family," she answered. "So, it could be something more serious?" I asked. "Yes," she answered as I started to cry. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she said as we hung up the phone.

The Perinatologist's office called 30 minutes later. "The doctor will see you at 2:30 on Wednesday," the woman on the other end of the phone said. Never mind the fact that I had a flight to Orange County at 10:50 a.m. on Wednesday. The decision had been made - there was no debate. The Perinatologist had cleared his calendar on Wednesday afternoon to see me, so that was when I would go. I hung up the phone and cancelled my trip to San Diego. To say the least, this week was not going as planned. I quickly began to search the Internet, where my worst fears were met with terrible information. Our baby had skeletal dysplasia.

How could this happen? What did this mean? Why? Why, Lord, would you cause this unexpected pregnancy, only to lead us down this road of suffering? I read story after story of tear-jerking experiences written by mothers of babies with skeletal dysplasia. Deep down, I knew that this was life-threatening. I read that usually only cases of lethal skeletal dysplasia were diagnosable via ultrasound during the second trimester. I spent the next two days crying uncontrollably and preparing myself for the worst.

When we arrived at the doctor's office on Wednesday, we spent another hour and a half in the ultrasound room. The doctor came in the room accompanied by a genetic counselor - another indication of bad news. He was incredibly gracious and soft-spoken. He came in and said, "Tell me what you know." I said, "I know that our baby has some form of skeletal dysplasia." Surprised by my response, he stated, "Well, then you know about everything that I know. That term does not usually roll off the tongue. What is your background?" "Law," I said, "but I have done my research." He assured us that he would give us as much information as possible. So, on we went with more ultrasound pictures.

He explained each picture as we went along. Baby's organs looked good - brain, heart, kidneys, stomach, bladder - even the fingers and toes were accounted for. All signs of a healthy baby were there, but there was one major problem - Baby's bones were entirely too small. His little ribcage was not growing. So, as the heart continued to grow, it would occupy more and more space in the chest cavity, leaving no room for Baby's lungs to develop. Although Baby was completely viable in my womb, he lacked one vital capability - the ability to breathe.

The doctor explained that his goal was to put our baby's condition into one of two categories at this time - lethal or non-lethal. Further testing could be done at a later time to narrow the diagnosis. He explained that our baby's condition was lethal. I was completely stoic. Our worst fears had been confirmed. This baby would most likely be carried full-term only to be stillborn, or more likely, be born alive only to die within hours of birth. I did not understand. How could this be? Baby was so perfect in every way, except that his bones were too small. Outside of a miracle, Baby had zero chance of survival.

We were lead to the doctor's office where we were given our options: terminate the pregnancy or continue on for another 20 weeks with no light at the end of the tunnel. The doctor was surprisingly supportive of our choice either way. If we chose to continue on, he would support us all the way. What a huge relief. I knew that there were no such "choices" for us. We did not choose when this life began, and we would not choose when it ended. Hopeless or not, we would continue on by the grace of God. After all, this next twenty weeks will probably be the only time that we have to spend with our precious baby boy.