"Everyday holds the possibility of a Miracle."

Monday, October 17, 2011

Praying For A Miracle

As I write this a fellow NH mom waits in a NICU beside her child, hoping and praying for life.  It has been such a blessing to be connected to fellow NH mom's who know the bitterness of the sudden death of their little ones, and witness their journeys toward healing through the treatment of a subsequent pregnancy as we are now attempting.  And yet, as the past two to deliver have been compromised by NH, my heart cries out selfishly - please God not us!  The last place that I ever wanted to be again was the NICU - the very smell of the floor as the elevator opens turns my stomach.  It is inevitable that we will be there, but I pray that it is only for the 24 hours for tests to come back perfect!  I hope and I pray for a miracle - I long to spend the next 16 weeks down on my knees never moving from the feet of my Savior begging for a miracle, weeping for one.  Not only for the healthy birth of our child, but that tests come back perfectly normal - no sign of involvement with NH - so that not only can we bring a healthy child into our home but that I can nourish that child myself.  Sometimes I fear that I should not ask - I should just go with the flow and live with the fact that God is the only one in charge of what will or will not happen and not insert myself into it.  But, I am a mother and I am already desperately in love with my child and I want the best, hope for the best, and want to believe.  There isn't a moment that goes by that my heart isn't issuing silent prayers for a miracle - a true - Soli Deo Gloria miracle!  I know that I will love, live, and believe no matter what happens, but yet I pray my selfish mother's heart prayer for a completely healthy miracle by none other then our God.  "My God...My God...deliver us safely through!"

Thursday, October 13, 2011


I have found myself many times over the past year and a half grasping for strength.  It feels like that horrible nightmare where you find yourself suddenly falling and there right above you is a bar only to find that you either a) can't reach it or b) you grasp it only to find that it isn't attached to anything solid either.  Many have told me, "You are so strong.", or "I see the strength in you.".  But is pretending to be strong for the sake of self preservation and for the greater good of those around you really strength....I ponder this...  There are many times that I have to, as I say it, "Put on my big girl pants" and just do it, just get through another tough day, agonizing conversation, whispered prayer, when all I want to do is yell, scream why until I am hoarse, and run away from it all.  I feel like I am strong on the outside - I have to be, it isn't helpful to my children or my husband if I am not.  I have to be, because it makes others uncomfortable if I am not.  But it also makes me uncomfortable - I would rather not be brittle and show my millions of tiny fractures waiting just waiting to break all the way.  I try desperately hard to daily wrap myself with faith, thankfulness for the little things, and grace towards others, but that doesn't stop the depth of the hole in my heart.  Even as I am incredibly aware of the blessing we have at being able to conceive and carry this child within me, I can not help but quake with trembling fear every moment of every day.  You might not see it looking at me, but I am - desperately afraid.  I want this child to be healthy and in our arms and in our home and to be able to learn this amazing child and his or her personality - I want it so desperately that I can feel it - my arms literally ache.  But, I stop myself from begging for it or hoping on it, because it might not be.  My arms and our nursery may remain empty of a new warm being in our lives.  And so I desperately reach for strength, faked or otherwise as I dance daily with hope and fear.  I love Ethan with all of me and I will until the end of time, and to never be able to cuddle him, kiss him, or watch him simply be is a hole that will never heal in this mother's heart.  I have had to surrender one to the earth and leave our knowing until later, and I don't want to have to do it again.  This brittle vessel is not that strong.