Child of Mine

This past week has been rough. I had two doctors’ appointments, and the primary focus of both appointments was to discuss the birth plan for baby David. I can hardly believe that my due date is less than 5 weeks away. When I think about what I was doing 5 weeks ago, it seems almost like yesterday. Time is so fleeting.

The birth process can be stressful for any baby, but I am told that it will be especially traumatic for little David, due to the fragility of his bones. I know that he must come out, sooner or later, but the thought of putting him through this painful process is difficult for me to bear, not to mention the fact that he will be forced to try to breathe on his own as soon as he is born. All that I can do is pray each and every day that God will put a hedge of protection around him and shield him from pain and suffering.

During my visit to the specialist, I had yet another ultrasound. I have had so many ultrasounds now that I have lost count. It is always good to see David again, but it is painful too, as each time I am callously reminded that the size of his ribcage is “well within the lethal range.” No matter how many times I hear this report, it never gets any easier. It is always a knife through my heart.

This time, the ultrasound technician was my angel. She spent the majority of the time taking 4-d pictures of David before doing the routine, rote measurements of his growth. He was sleeping peacefully during most of the process, with his chin resting sweetly on his little arms. He is a beautiful baby. I cannot tell you what a joy it was for me to see his precious face for the very first time. I will never forget that moment.

He has a little bit of hair, though not much yet. He probably will be mostly bald, just like his big brothers were when they were born. The picture was so detailed that I could even see his long eyelashes – amazing! At that moment, he was so real to me, and he looked so perfect. All that I could think was, “I just want to keep him. Oh please, Lord, let me keep him.” And in the midst of my pain and pleading, the Holy Spirit of God gently whispered to me, “My child, he is not yours to keep.”

In my head, I know that this is true. I knew it five years ago when Tom and I dedicated Benjamin to God, and I was reminded again three years later when we dedicated Caleb, but I must say that knowing this in my head is very different than understanding it in my heart. A couple of months back, a close friend asked me what was at stake in my decision to “put myself out there” instead of going into my shell of self-pity, which is my natural tendency. I did not have to think long about my answer. By far, the hardest part of this journey has been to release my children to God.

I have realized, now more than ever before, that I do not control the wellbeing of my children, as much as I would like to think that I do. I can try to protect them from physical harm, keep them away from dangerous people, take care of their health, etc., but ultimately their wellbeing is out of my hands. As I first processed the news of David’s condition 15 weeks ago, I was filled with fear at the thought that if God would choose to take David, then what would stop Him from taking Benjamin or Caleb?

What about Job? Job was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil, and God took all of his children. Why should I be any different? I know that most of these thoughts were fear-based, driven by an attack from the enemy, yet I still had to grapple with the truth that my children belonged to God, not to me, and as such, they were in His hands. So, I was faced with two primary questions. Can God be trusted, and will He be good to me and Tom and to our children? The answer to both questions, of course, is yes, but once again, knowing something in my head is quite different than understanding and believing it in my heart.

In His great grace and patience, I believe that God has grown me in this process, though I am far from perfect in my understanding and application of His control over my life and His goodness in it. It is a daily battle of my independence vs. God’s sovereignty and goodness. I pray that He will help me to trust Him more, as I continue to plead with Him each and every day for David’s healing.

It is so difficult for me to live in total dependence upon God. In fact, apart from his mercy and grace, it is impossible. I want to figure out His plan and then rely on my own strength to walk through it. I want to know what He is doing. If He is going to choose to heal David, then I can breathe a huge sigh of relief and thank Him for his miraculous intervention. If not, then I can start to “cope” with the reality that I must let David go and somehow learn to trust in God's goodness in the midst of my suffering. But being in limbo and living in the unknown is so hard.

I must continually “renew my mind.” I must be present today and not try to live out tomorrow. I cannot muster up the strength to cope with tomorrow’s problems today because I am only promised the grace that I need to make it through today. In a letter written by Corrie Ten Boom, she recalls the following story from her childhood:

When I was a little girl…, I went to my father and said, “Daddy, I am afraid that I will never be strong enough to be a martyr for Jesus Christ.” “Tell me,” said Father, “When you take a train trip to Amsterdam, when do I give you the money for the ticket? Three weeks before?” “No, Daddy, you give me the money for the ticket just before we get on the train.” “That is right,” my father said, “and so it is with God’s strength. Our Father in Heaven knows when you will need the strength to be a martyr for Jesus Christ. He will supply all you need – just in time. “

And so I am relying on my Heavenly Father to give me my train ticket each day. I do not know which train I am scheduled to board, but I know that He will give me the ticket to ride it – just in time.

The Miracle of Faith

Recently, God has been teaching me about faith. Specifically, God has been speaking to my heart about the faith of Abraham. I have always believed that God is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we could ask or imagine, and deep in my heart, I hoped that He would do just that. I secretly hoped that God would "surprise" me by healing David, but I was not about to ask Him to do it. Simply believing that God was able seemed to be enough.

Over the past couple of weeks, the Spirit of God has gently shown me that my believing that He is able and my hoping that He might surprise me by doing something miraculous is not enough. For some reason, God is calling me and Tom to ask Him to miraculously heal David. It may sound silly, but for me, this is a huge step of faith. Why must I ask Him? Isn't God able to do whatever He pleases? What difference does it make if I ask?

I think that part of my unwillingness to ask God for a miracle was due to my unwillingness to be disappointed in God. If I put myself out there and ask for the impossible, what happens if God says no? I can believe in God’s goodness and accept the prospect that He may ordain our son’s life to be too short without understanding why, but I think that asking God for the impossible may stretch my ability to believe in God's goodness further than it ever has ever been stretched before.

I do not pretend to understand all that God is doing, but I know that I must obey. When God promised Abraham that he would become the father of many nations, Abraham believed and obeyed what God told him to do. God said, "Your descendants will be as numerous as the stars," even though such a promise seemed impossible! And Abraham's faith did not weaken even though he knew that he was too old to be a father and that Sarah, his wife, had never been able to bear children. Romans 4:18-19.

Abraham was absolutely convinced that God was able to do anything He promised. It was by faith that Abraham offered Isaac as a sacrifice when God was testing him. Abraham was ready to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, though God had promised him, "Isaac is the son through whom your descendants will be counted." Genesis 21:12. Abraham believed God who brings the dead back to life and who brings into existence what didn't exist before. Romans 4:17.

So, by faith, Tom and I are asking God to heal David "for nothing is impossible with God." Luke 1:37. I must be honest - this is very difficult for me. I want to understand it, to rationalize it and to somehow explain it to myself and others. I do not usually ask for things unless I am relatively certain that I will get them. I do not consider myself to be a miracle-prayer. Right or wrong, this is a big stretch for me.

But amidst all of my questions, I am certain of one thing: my failure to ask God for David's healing would be disobedience. While I do not understand why, I know without a doubt that He is telling me to ask. So, Tom and I are asking God to do something miraculous. We are asking our great God to bring healing to David's bones, to cause his bones to grow and to develop his lungs so that he is able to breathe on his own. We are asking God for the "impossible."

We are not asking because we are certain of the answer. We are asking because we trust our Father who is telling us to ask. We are asking for the miracle of faith.

The Gift of Hope

Most people think of hiccups as an annoyance. To me, hiccups are a sign of life and hope.

Babies in utero breathe and swallow amniotic fluid. This is part of normal development. For weeks, the doctors have told me that David could stop swallowing fluid at any time because his small chest may restrict him from doing so. If he stops swallowing fluid, then excess fluid will build up, which will likely result in his early birth.

When David hiccups, I am reassured that he is still swallowing fluid. The longer that he continues to swallow fluid, the longer that I can carry him! Sometimes, several days go by without my noticing any hiccups, and I start to worry that he may no longer be swallowing. Then, out of the blue, he starts hiccuping again, and I thank God that He has given us more time together.

Every time that I see another ultrasound, I am reminded again that David’s chest is extremely small, restricting the development of his lungs. The irony of it all is that he is completely viable in my womb because I am able to supply him with all of the oxygen that he needs. Theoretically, he could live inside of me indefinitely, and I sometimes wish that this were possible.

My emotions have ranged greatly during the past 12 weeks. At the beginning, I wanted all of this to end as quickly as possible. Then, as time passed, I slowly began to appreciate the time that God has given me to carry David, though it may be short. Many well-meaning people have told me that they are “praying for a miracle,” and I usually respond that the “miracle” may not be physical healing. So far, I have not seen any evidence of physical healing.

It may sound strange, but for a while I was not even open to the possibility of David’s physical healing. The thought of his death was painfully difficult to bear, but somehow accepting this reality was more bearable than hoping for a physical miracle. I guess that I was afraid of disappointment. However, I am reminded that “hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” Romans 5:5.

I can now say that the Holy Spirit of God has granted me the ability to hope, not necessarily in a miraculous healing for David, but the ability to open my heart to whatever God wants to do in this situation. Certainly, He is able to miraculously heal David, and I should not dismiss this possibility in order to protect myself from disappointment. You see, my Father has shown me that I can trust Him with my heart because He will not disappoint.

My Father knows how fragile my heart is, so I do not have to be afraid of trusting Him with it. I can hope for miracles, knowing that My God is able. He is able to change David’s prognosis by simply speaking the word. Just as He spoke all of creation into being, He can speak life into this precious child.

This is not a “name it and claim it” theology whereby one can attain miracles by having “enough” faith. I believe that true faith is quite opposite to a “name it and claim it” theology. True faith is to believe in God’s goodness, His plan and His provision no matter how dim the outlook may seem. True faith is to walk by faith and not by sight. True faith believes in God’s ability to redeem any situation, for “without faith it is impossible to please Him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who seek Him.” Hebrews 11:6.

So, by the grace of God, I will continue to hope in Him each day, and I will cherish every hiccup knowing that it is a gift from God.