One year ago....
One year ago…
A year ago today I had no idea that in a few short hours life would change so drastically. I had no idea, as I sat down to finish my final paper for the quarter that I was already in labor. I think back on it all as a mixture of images and gut-wrenching emotion.
I remember calling Ryan when I realized something was wrong. I had been told to be careful of bleeding, pain, etc., as all pregnant women are told, but never about this. As I waited for Ryan to make the 60-minute drive home, I don’t think my heart beat normally at any point. I tried to keep calm, praying that Ryan didn’t crash and that we were able to get me to the hospital in time, though time for what, I didn’t know. “Please, Lord, don’t let my baby be dead,” was the most frequent litany. When I felt her move, I was overjoyed. There was still hope.
At the hospital, Ryan and I were shuttled from one place to another, repeating my story and waiting. Finally, they examined me and told me “You’re 6 cm. dilated. You’re going to have this baby within the next 72 hours.” By this point, I knew by my lack of reaction I was in a sort of shocky survival mode. We just didn’t know how to react. We were afraid, devastated, and desperately praying for a miracle.
I saw Abigail for the first time more than 4 hours after she had been born. She was so small and red, splayed out under a light, full of wires no thicker than a piece of string. She was clearly agitated, yet when I spoke to her, she calmed and when I put my finger in her tiny palm, she curled her spindly little fingers around me with a fierce grip. Her whole hand was smaller than the pad of my thumb.
And so began the most harrowing experience of our lives. Every night we went to bed thanking God for the day and begging him for just one more day. Every morning we awoke thanking Him that she had lived through the night.
Before Abigail was born, I thought I understood what it meant to put your faith in God, to cast your cares upon Him. I thought I understood what it meant to make such a sacrifice, to send your beloved son to die.
I had no idea.
Everyone knows that Abigail survived solely by the grace of God. We did too. I remember when family members started arriving and everyone wanted to take pictures. I hated it. Ryan convinced me to let them, as long as it was understood I didn’t want a part in it. For me, those first few days, it was like taking pictures at a funeral. I couldn’t understand how everyone could want pictures of this.
And then they said they were going to have to do surgery. They were going to cut my baby open.
I never really asked God questions like, “Why” or “Why me?” I already knew the answer to that. True, I didn’t and still don’t know the physical reasons I went into labor early, but the spiritual answers were clear: to glorify God. I clung to that as I asked “What next?”
Early on, I encountered the quote, by Corrie Ten Boom: Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.” It was a reminder to me that no matter what happens, my worrying will not change the future. In fact, my worrying was an indicator that I wasn’t trusting God; I was sinning against Him.
It’s a year later; the evening before Abigail’s first birthday. She’s been home with us for eight and a half months. Although this has been the most harrowing year of my life, it has been the most joyful.
I have so much to be thankful for:
I’m thankful for Abigail and the joy she brings each day (even days like today when she’s teething and fussing)
I’m thankful for Ryan. God is my Rock but Ryan was a pillar of strength on days when God seemed a bit far away.
I’m thankful for the family and friends who stood by us and supported us through the difficult times and the blessed ones.
Above all, I’m thankful for God, that he carried us through, and especially that he was willing to sacrifice his son for me.