I’m sorry this post is coming so late in the day. I know a lot of you have been checking in on me. I appreciate the comments, phone calls, and emails so much. Most of all, I can’t thank you all enough for your prayers. Last night’s update was brief, so I’ll elaborate a bit on what happened yesterday.

Faith:

From the time I left the ER Tuesday night until sometime yesterday afternoon, I really wrestled with what to do if this was an ectopic pregnancy. There is nothing that they can do to turn an ectopic pregnancy into a healthy one. It’s a dangerous situation. To briefly explain it, it is when the baby implants itself somewhere besides the uterus…usually in the fallopian tube…and therefore the pregnancy cannot continue to term. The baby grows in the tube until it has no more room to grow, and then the tube will burst. This can cause excessive internal bleeding and damage to a woman’s organs, and can sometimes result in the death of the mother. The usual treatment for an ectopic pregnancy is to remove the pregnancy either by methotrexate (a drug that is injected to stop the baby’s growth and cause the mother’s body to absorb the baby) or by surgery. I immediately recoiled at the thought of the shot, and knew that I would not be able to do that regardless. The other option is to remove the baby by surgery. Obviously, both of these treatments would end the baby’s life.

I struggled hard with the thought of having to choose to remove the pregnancy before it burst my tube. I really felt, by what the doctor had told me about what was seen by u/s, by the pain I felt, and by my gut feeling, that I was dealing with an ectopic pregnancy. It seemed to be the case. I was trying to come to terms with what I was going to do about it. I cried over my hamburger at Steak and Shake after we finally left the ER Tuesday night, when I told Chris that I just didn’t think I could end my baby’s life, even if it was destined to end anyway. I told him that it seemed like, if I were really going to have faith that God could do a miracle for me, I would have to leave it in his hands. It wasn’t cut and dry. We didn’t know what the wise thing to do was.

Yesterday morning, I called Amy to pray with her like I do every morning. I told her that I didn’t think I could do it. I told her that I believed God could do a miracle, and, even if he didn’t, I could trust Him. I told her that He had proven Himself faithful to us over and over in the past year. He proved faithful in small matters, like how someone would respond to a hard conversation He was prompting me to have, etc. He proved Himself faithful in bigger matters, like my struggle with disordered eating, etc. I felt like all of those things were preparing my heart to trust Him to be faithful in this…the biggest thing I had ever faced. I knew He could do a miracle. It was a step of faith to trust Him to do so, or to trust Him to take care of me if He didn’t.

By the time I actually was at the OB’s office, my prayers had began to focus on needing my doctor to be understanding of my decision and supportive of me. I knew this was unlikely. I had another u/s, and then we had to wait for a couple of hours before actually seeing the doctor. He came in and told us that the u/s they did yesterday was the opposite of the u/s they did in the ER the night before. They saw nothing on my left side, and they saw a yolk sac in my uterus. As soon as he said this, I began to cry. I knew that God had specifically answered my prayer. He went on to tell me that the yolk sac did not look healthy, and he expected that I was going to miscarry. The tears really began to fall then. I was prepared for this, and it was definitely better than an ectopic pregnancy. It was still hard, though. I still love this baby, and I still want my baby to live. As I cried, he offered me a tissue, and told me that, since my hcg levels continue to rise, he wanted me to come back on Friday to have more blood taken. He said that we will monitor my hcg levels, and we won’t do anything until we are sure the baby has died. If the baby dies and I don’t miscarry naturally, he said we would talk about a D&C. He said there is a chance that the pregnancy could continue, but he doesn’t expect it to because it didn’t appear to be healthy.

So, with a heavy heart, we left the doctor’s office. I really broke down as soon as we stepped through the doctor’s office door into the hallway. I’ve not cried like that in a long time. It all just seemed like too much. When we were finally in the car, I quit crying and took a few deep breaths. I knew that God had answered my prayer. Even though it still hurt, it was an answered prayer, and I had to thank Him. He proved, once again, that He is faithful. He hears our prayers, and He cares. He saved me great heartache, and, even in my sadness, I praise Him. He is faithful.

Hope:

We came home yesterday evening, after taking some time to stop in Oak Ridge to eat dinner and talk, and I lay down on the couch to try to sleep away some horrible car-sickness. I’m reminded in moments like that of the fact that I AM still pregnant, and I still get sickish and tired very easily. Shortly after we came home, my mother-in-law, Velvet, brought our kids home. She was so kind to keep our kids for us from the time I went to the doctor before I went to the ER Tuesday night until yesterday evening, letting them spend the night in between. The kids came home, and gave me hugs and kisses. Chris and I had decided over dinner that we needed to tell the kids what was going on.

I asked Kyra if she knew why Mommy had been going to the doctor so often. She said she didn’t know, but she had a guess. I asked her what she thought it was, and she said, “You have the flu?”

Chris and I smiled at each other. “No, honey, I don’t have the flu.”

She said she had another guess, “You got sick because of winter.”

I told her that wasn’t it either. I told her that Mommy had a baby in her belly, and, before I could finish my sentence, her face lit up and she started clapping her hands. I interrupted her excitement, and told her that there was a problem with the baby and it might not get to be born. I told them that God might take our baby to Heaven, and we would get to see the baby when we went to Heaven. They both thought about this for a minute, and Kyra asked, “The baby can go to Heaven even when it didn’t get saved?” Chris and I laughed a little, and explained that, yes, the baby would still go to Heaven. She accepted this, and then Elijah said, “I have a guess.”

Chris and I looked at each other over his head, and I said, “What’s your guess, Elijah?”

He said, “You have the flu!”

“No, Elijah.” I said. “The reason I have been going to the doctor is…”

Elijah cut me off and said, “I have another guess!”

Sigh. “Okay. What’s your guess?”

Elijah smiled, and said, “You have a baby in your belly.”

I told him, that, yes, I had a baby in my belly, but reminded him that there was a problem and God might take our baby to Heaven. Elijah then told us that he thought the baby would go to the devil. I sighed and let Chris deal with that one.

While the conversation with Elijah was going on, Kyra had left the room to get me a blanket, because, immediately on learning I was pregnant, she had went into “take care of Mommy” mode. She brought the blanket, spread it over my legs, and said, “I know! We can pray for our baby.”

I told her that was a very good idea, and that we could pray for our baby every day. I told her that God knows better than we do, though, and He know what’s best for us and our little one.

Kyra said, “I’m going to pray right now.” She climbed up beside of me, laid her hands on me, told Elijah to be quiet, and began to pray, “Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for the baby in my Mommy’s belly. Please help the baby to get to be born. Please help my mommy to feel good. Thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

I don’t think I will ever forget that prayer. It was such a sweet moment. Tears were rolling down my cheeks while my little girl prayed for us. She had complete faith that we serve a God who hears and answers prayers. Every time I tried to remind her that there was a problem and we had to be prepared that God might take our little one to Heaven, she responded with hope. She knows we serve an all powerful God who loves us. She knows He can do miracles. In her complete faith, hope seems to be the only logical response to our situation. As a mother, I’m afraid that God’s answer will be “no”, and Kyra’s heart will be broken. She’s already hoping for a sister. Talking about having a baby again. I suppose that, in this situation, I have to take my lead from Kyra, and have faith enough to hope for miracles…while still having faith that He will hold us if the answer is “no”.

Love:

Throughout this whole thing, which is going on two weeks now, I’ve been reminded over and over of how much God loves me. He’s reminded me that my faith in him is not misplaced. He’s reminded me that He is all powerful. He’s reminded me that He still can work miracles in our life. He’s held me when I cried, and He’s surrounded me with people…even total strangers…who love me enough to hold me and my family up in prayer. I’ve come to find that Jesus IS all-satisfying. He meets every need. He comforts every heartache. He is a loving Saviour who comes to my rescue every time. I know I may have much more heartache ahead of me. This whole process still goes on. I don’t know the end, but it’s enough to know that He does. He knew the end before I knew the beginning, and I will trust in that. My Saviour loves me. He will take care of me…regardless.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you, declares the Lord,

Jeremiah 29:11-14a

Thank you, Friends, for your prayers, and I ask you to continue to pray for me, my baby, and my family. It means so much.