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.