The Best Christmas Gift

It was quite a different Christmas season all together. I missed my Christmas Eve traditions- shopping at the mall with my mom (not because we needed anything, but because we are crazy), getting out in the hustle bustle, buying Christmas PJ's for Ben, Christmas Eve service at First North, spending time with my family eating our usual Christmas Eve dinner of oyster stew. I just missed the tradition!

I decorated our little hospital room, "home" as we had come to call it, with a small Christmas tree from Ben's nursery, paper chains that I made, and Baby Ben's stocking. I filled the air with my favorite holiday blend of essential oils, I did everything I could to make it feel "Christmassy."

Christmas Day we ate a "holiday feast" from the cafeteria downstairs. I have to say, I wasn't mad at that meal! It was pretty yummy, considering. I passed out small gift bags to the nurses, I wore my snowman shirt that I made, emphasizing my large pregnant belly, and everyone here got quite a kick out of it. I said "Merry Christmas" to anyone who would look my way. I was trying... hard... to make this a joyful Christmas, even though we were "stuck" here.

Katie and Bryan, some sweet, selfless friends, came to visit, along with some family members! We opened some gifts and that brightened our day. We all love gifts, right?!

Throughout the whole day (and day before) I was definitely uncomfortable, but I didn't think much of it. I've been uncomfortable since October 15th, the day we were first admitted to antepartum at MUSC. So I just kept on, determined to celebrate Jesus' birthday the best I could.

Meanwhile, Baby Ben had his own plans. That boy is determined, I tell ya! I was having contractions pretty consistently, but again, I didn't think much of it. As the day passed and evening fell I realized this wasn't normal. I called the doctor in, and I heard what I already knew he was going to say... "We are really shooting for Tuesday!" At that point, to say I did not like that doctor was an incredible understatement... I was in some serious pain.

I'm a pretty calm person, my voice level has been perfected due to years of teaching, I can remain calm in just about any situation. When I envisioned being in labor I totally thought I'd be calm, quietly enduring each one. HA!!!! Nope. Not me! I shouted, I cried, I said mean things, I apologized, etc... Yeah, definitely not what I envisioned, but hey, mommas out there-- you know where I'm coming from!

As the hours passed and the contractions became excruciating, he finally believed me that we were having our baby that night. I had been in active labor for  many hours, and I was dilated to a 5, all without any medication. My poor husband's hands were various shades from white to purple due to me squeezing them with every ounce of strength I had. He listened intently as I explained my not- so- nice feelings about this doctor, and he did his very best to encourage me through every contraction, keeping tabs on how frequent they were. When I thought I couldn't handle it anymore, he was so supportive. I desperately needed him, and he was amazing. Thanks babe, and sorry I yelled so much!

I was relieved that that silly doctor finally believed me. I didn't hate him quite as much. (Doc, if you're reading this, you know we're cool now, but I'm pretty sure you knew how I felt about you in those hormonal, painful hours!)

I was feeling so many different emotions... fear, excitement, panic, joy, elation, sadness, you name an emotion on that crazy spectrum and I bet you I was experiencing it. It was a crazy feeling.

I was finally rolled into the OR in Labor and Delivery at 11:04 pm (5 hours after my active labor began) where I was prepped and finally received that much needed pain medication in my back. Ben was dressed in his "dad scrubs," and he finally joined me in the room around 11:20. I have never been so excited to see that man, as funny as he looked in his blue booties, scrub pants and top, mask, and funny hair net. I needed his comfort and support!

They began the c-section, and I just constantly prayed. I had confidence in the doctors, they're the best in the world. I really wasn't worried about the baby being ready or being born too early. For some reason, that wasn't really a fear anymore at all. My biggest fear was that the membrane on his omphalocele ("o") was going to rupture. There was a super thin membrane holding all of his little organs in, and if that ruptured we were going to be facing some devastating situations. I prayed every second of that c-section... Every second.

At 11:48 pm on Christmas Night my amazing son (oh heavens, I can hardly read what I'm typing through the tears!) was born. My Benjamin Michael Peters was born! They lifted him for 1 second, and I could only see the top of his head. Then he was gone.

They rushed him out of the room with hushed voices and wide- eyed looks at one another. Only their eyes were showing, their masks and hair nets covered the rest, but it was obvious. I could see it all in their eyes, they just hadn't said what was wrong yet. But as they were flying out of the OR with my brand new baby boy that I could not see, I heard it. I heard the most gorgeous, beautiful, fulfilling noise I have ever heard. I heard my son cry. And I wept.

As they were finishing up with me, my husband got to go see Ben get cleaned up and prepped for NICU. As I'm lying on the table, they said they had some information for me. My heart sank. "Great, here it comes..." I thought to myself.

They told me that his membrane had been "nicked" during the birth, but it did not rupture. There was a small hole in the membrane. If it's kind of hard to imagine what I'm talking about, imagine blowing bubbles with a child. That bubble is about how thin the membrane is, somehow holding in his intestine, bowels, liver, and some of his stomach. They worked quickly to repair the small hole, and somehow, they did it.

Yes it had a small hole, but the membrane did not rupture!! Add that to the list of miracles that God has performed throughout this journey.

A little while later, I was in recovery, and my husband joined me. I have never seen my husband look like this. I have never seen him stand as tall as he was, I have never seen that sparkle in his eyes, I have never seen his face glowing quite like it was just then. This man was proud. He was a proud daddy, and it was such a precious sight. He melted my heart and I fell even more in love with that man than ever.

They finally let Baby Ben come in the room before they took him to NICU. We had about 3-4 minutes. He was laying in an incubator on his side, facing me. I have never felt so much love in my life. His eyes were wide, and we connected our eyes for just a second. I got to touch his foot, and I just wept.

There, in front of my eyes, was my miracle baby. The child that God had sustained for 2 months and 10 days in my incompetent womb was finally here. The child that so many people had been praying for was here. The child that I have felt kicking and turning in my belly for months was here. My son, my baby, my everything, was here.

God is writing the most beautiful story though Benjamin Michael. He has used my son in so many ways already while inside my tummy, and I can't imagine how He's going to use him here in this world. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and thanks to my God, who has had His hand on my son from day 1 of this long, rough journey. I am so excited to be able to be a part of Ben's love story that our Father is writing.



Father,
Thank You, thank You, thank You! Thank you for caring for Ben. Thank You for sustaining him in my incompetent tummy for so long. Thank You for working miracles. Thank You for protecting him, for protecting that bubble- thin membrane. Ben is Your child before he is mine. Please continue to write his story, it is already so beautiful. You have made Yourself so evident, so real, so obvious throughout this journey, and even more so now, as this miracle baby breathes on his own in this world. I pray that with every breath from his little lungs that You would be glorified. When people see my baby, may they see Your face, Your handy-work, Your power, Your miracles. Thank You, Jesus. I love you.

...
Our journey is far from over. In some ways, it's just beginning. Our next chapter is life in the NICU, and I have already learned that no matter how hard I attempted to prepare myself for this, it is impossible.

Thank you to those of you that have dedicated time to spend in prayer for Ben. Thank you for helping this miracle baby enter the world. As we see, the power of prayer is undeniable. Please continue to cover my little family in prayer. As we move to the next chapter of our journey, please cry out our names to our Lord, to our Jehovah Rapha.

Merry Christmas, friends! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. I certainly received the most amazing Christmas gift I could ever imagine!

Choose Joy,
Allison (Mommy)

BMP loves his pacie!

The day Ben can wear this shirt we will throw a HUGE party! 

He is truly our miracle baby! 

Remembering His Greatest Promise

I've dreaded hitting the publish button on this one. What will people think when they read my deepest fears typed out into real words? Some of these I haven't even said out loud. Will this transparency translate to "bad mom" or "weak"? Well, this is my heart. I am a human, a scared human.
- A



Some nights I sit in Ben's nursery and I look out the large windows and I see all of the stars shining in the sky. The sky has been so clear, and I can see every single star sparkling like glitter on a beautiful ribbon wrapped around a Christmas gift.

I wasn't really thinking about anything. I was just sitting. My mind was wandering. I realized that every star I saw that night, I was thinking of a fear I have about my son.

Will his stomach float out more into the omphalocele?

Once he comes, will the doctors and surgeons say it's worse than they expected?

Will he be made fun of by other children when he goes to a swim party because of his large scar across his tummy?

The looks from other moms when they see this defect growing from his tummy.

Will he be able to be fed?

Has he gained enough weight?

Will he be able to breathe on his own?

The first time I see the omphalocele, not in a picture, but in real life. On my tiny baby.

How will that make me feel?

Can I handle seeing it?

Will he make it?

Will several surgeries be too much for his little tiny body?

.......


That night I was overwhelmed with fear. The kind of fear that makes you feel like you're about to throw up, the kind of fear that makes your whole body sweat even though you have chills, the kind of fear that makes you shake and quiver, the kind of fear that takes over your body and your mind.

I'm just plain scared.

When I came out of that dark place in my mind I prayed my prayer of little words.

You know, He never ever promised that things would be perfect. He never promised that things would be easy. In fact, most people face pretty crappy situations in their lives. People face horrible tragedies, loss, crisis. He never promised it would be perfect, and it sure isn't.

He did, however, promise to be enough. And He is.

I just have to trust in Him, there's no one else that I can trust in.

I believe that He's Jehovah Rapha, the Ultimate Healer.

I believe that He's more then enough for me, more than enough for my baby.

I also believe that there's a reason that all of this is happening around Christmas time. The greatest promise that He ever gave to mankind was in the form of a baby. I bet you Mary was terrified. Their situation was so far from perfect. Can you imagine how Mary must have felt? Probably even more scared than I am. Their situation was terrible. No place to stay, going into labor, and riding on a donkey. Let me tell you one thing... If Ben suggested I hop up on a donkey right now and make a long journey I'd punch him square in the gut! Literally, nothing went right for them leading up to the birth, but look what that terrible situation turned into.

It's amazing that His greatest, most powerful, amazing promise was a baby.

Your situation may be absolutely terrible. Your journey may be ugly. Your heart may be broken. And that's okay. We're human.

Momma, it's okay to be scared. Teacher, it's okay to be exhausted. Daddy, it's okay to feel burdened. Secretary, it's okay to feel annoyed. Wife, it's okay to feel lost. Student, it's okay to feel stressed out. Daughter, it's okay feel distraught. Who ever you are, whatever you do, you're a human and you will feel these horrific feelings.

But many years ago there was a baby, and that led to a cross, and that led to an empty tomb.


I am scared. No, I'm terrified... But I'm not going to let that darkness over take me. That baby is our refuge. He's faithful. He's with me. I'm not alone. I know I'm not. He walked this journey before me, and He's walking it with me now. He is taking my fear, and He is drawing me closer through that.

You're not alone. Just remember that incredible baby that changed our world.






Choose Joy,
Allison

Ben's Mom

Friday we had another round of appointments at MUSC. Things went well, nothing had really changed... Ben is still ready to make his entrance into the world, but we are continuing to pray he stays put at least a little longer! This day of appointments was filled with much less anxiety than the last visit! We got to see his sweet little face, and that always makes me so happy!

Friday was the first time I had felt good about myself in weeks. I had brushed my hair, even ran a flat iron through it, I had makeup on, and I had even put on real clothes! (Ladies that have been on bed rest, you know that's a big accomplishment!) We decided that since I felt good, we would go to dinner! A real dinner! Not propped up on our bed in a maternity tank top, not sitting on the couch with crazy wild hair that hadn't been brushed all day. A real dinner.... At a restaurant!

Ben chose a place that was close by, of course! We walked in to this place I had never been before and we ordered and we began a light hearted, fun date night that we so desperately needed. We giggled, we talked about Ben, we played, we joked. It was perfect.

During our wonderful meal a lady approached our table. A "stranger." She stopped and asked me quietly, "Are you Ben's mom?" Caught off guard, I said "Yes." She introduced herself, and we chatted for a couple of minutes. Somehow she had stumbled across our story, and she had been following Ben's journey and progress, and she recognized me from the pictures. She encouraged us in our long, rough journey.  I was so glad she came over to our table! She was kind hearted, and she spoke from a genuine heart. She had no idea how huge of an impact she would end up having on me, and to be honest, it hadn't sunk in all the way for me either.

I really appreciated all of her heart-felt encouragement, but the most powerful thing she said to me were the smallest of words, "Ben's mom." She asked me if I was Ben's mom.

I hung on to that.

It resonated in my mind for the next few hours.

Ben's mom.

Later that night, I sat down in my place, my peaceful gray glider in the nursery, and I looked at the new ultrasound pictures that were printed for us earlier that day. He is getting bigger; I looked at his precious face, his perfect hands, his strong little features. I hugged my belly tight, able to see his little kicks through my blue sweater night gown... and I was overcome with emotions. Yes, absolutely, I am Ben's mom. I am Ben's MOM!

In my 28 years, I have had many names, many roles:
believer
wife
teacher
daughter
friend
sister
etc...

But tonight for the first time I heard my new name from the lips of a stranger new friend. And that name was beautiful. That name was powerful. That name is so humbling... To know that God is allowing me, a nobody, to be a part of little Ben's huge miracle story.

Ben is already making an impact on people. He is already proving that this isn't all about science. My son is showing the world, already, that God is still creating miracles daily. Ben's story is going to be heard by many people.

I am truly not worthy of such an enormous role in Ben's incredible story. My body is supposedly not capable to endure this role, but I am so grateful He is giving me the opportunity to be a part of this. I'm just thankful to have the opportunity, this chance.

My new name is so beautiful, so wonderful.... It is So. Incredibly. Humbling.

Ben's mom. Ben's mom. That's me! I am Ben's mom, and I am filled with joy because I have been entrusted with that name.

Choose Joy,
Allison

My Precious Son-
You are a miracle. You are so incredibly loved by so many people. You are a gift. Your name is cried out before our Lord by many, many people. You are proof of the power of prayer.

You are going to have to overcome major physical hurdles as a tiny baby, but you can do it. You are fierce. You are a fighter.

One day you are going to move mountains. You are going to continue to defy all odds. You are so strong. You, my sweet baby boy, will be a living testimony of the power and strength of our Anchor. I can't wait to watch you walk your journey.

Keep fighting, Ben. Keep growing big and strong in my "incompetent body." Keep defying odds. You've got a beautiful journey ahead of you.

Momma loves you.

Anxiety and Anchors

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." 

Hebrews 6:19

 

Yesterday we sat in the waiting room that I've come to know so well. 3 big pictures of Downtown Charleston on big canvases, a TV in the corner that always has terrible shows on, and an out of order water machine. The room was filled with anxiety, my anxiety. It was pretty palpable, and apparently my face totally gave me away, despite my efforts to hide it. 

We were there to have my cervix, my  incompetent cervix, measured. We learned that it was short a while back, and that means preterm labor. Another dreaded date with that horrible ultrasound thing. Not the fun kind. I know what to do, I've done it too many times before. So there, in the small room, filled with machines and screens I did what I needed to and waited on the table for her to come back in. 

I sat there, exposed, waiting to hear, yet again, how my body wasn't good enough for my baby. Technically, my body is incompetent, and I'm tired of hearing it. I'm tired of hearing I can't provide a good enough place for my boy to grow big and strong. 

At this point I'm completely anxiety ridden. Convincing myself not to have a panic attack in that dark room. We learned that my cervix is now half a millimeter, and that's all that's keeping baby Ben in there! He's also head down, ready to come into this world. (He's already hard headed and determined like his Daddy.)

Lying there, listening to the ultrasound tech, fighting back tears, holding off a panic attack, and staring at the off white, speckled tile on the ceiling I remembered I just need to be hopeful, I just needed to cling to my Anchor.

 

Some girls have beautiful pregnancies, full of delightful ultrasounds, positive appointments, and butterflies as they await meeting their doctors. I'd be lying if I said sometimes I wish mine was a little more like that, but that's not our journey. That's not in our miracle story. Our visits are a little less beautiful, and they're a little less positive. Basically I just try not to pass out or throw up. Don't get me wrong, friends... I LOVE being pregnant. There is nothing I delight more in than feeling my precious son wiggle and dance in my big belly. It's the most precious thing in the world. But when it comes to the appointments, that's where it really just stinks. Ever since September when we found out about the omphalocele we have not had 1 appointment where it was completely fine or positive. And that can wear ya down, especially a hormonal pregnant woman. (Especially one who cries over simple things like mozzarella sticks and fruit cups!)

So now in the even smaller exam room, I waited for the doctor, my favorite doctor in the group. The nurse came in and I was convinced she was hiding bad news from me. I immediately asked her what was going on, just tell me, don't make me wait for the doctor. She backed up with her hands up and said, I was just asked to take your vitals! Poor woman. The doctor finally came in and  he brought in a woman that I have seen around, and who has worked with us because we are high risk. In my panicked, anxiety ridden mind, that meant he was going to give me bad news and this woman was going to console me. It's amazing what your mind can do to you. As soon as he walked in he noticed my radiating anxiety and tried to make me feel better, as he carefully guided and guarded his words as to not give me false hope. They do that so well... 

Ultimately, nothing else, really important, was wrong now that we didn't already know about. (Except the cervix being almost non existent). 

We know about the giant omphalocele. We know what organs are outside of his body. We know that his stomach is small for his body, but that is to be expected with his "o." We know my cervix is incompetent. We know he's trying to come early. We know it's very scary to combine the "o" and premature birth. We know, we know, we know.

But truly, I have hope. I have to. I've been clinging to Hebrews 6:19 lately, and I just have to claim it. "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure..." He is our anchor, He is our hope, He alone provides that security. 

At this time in my life, I have really experienced that hope, I have experienced Him being my only anchor. I have learned to stop saying "Okay... what else could possibly go wrong?!" Because something else can always go wrong, I promise. 

I've moved on to a season in my life where I just have to cling to hope, cling to my Anchor and accept our journey full of challenges, embrace our miracle story.

I am a part of a couple of support groups, and I have learned that, although our situation is truly terrifying, although my heart is shattered for my baby boy, and although I know this road is going to be a hard, rough, long journey, we actually have a lot to be thankful for. 

I'm going to continue to choose joy. I'm going to continue to be hopeful. I'm going to continue to cling to my Anchor. Because if I don't, I couldn't make it. That's the absolute only way I can face each scary day filled with the unknown. I decided to incorporate the anchor theme into Ben's room, which has also served as my "war room." (Check out the pictures below!)

I encourage you to cling to our Anchor in your own journey, friends. It's really the only way.

Choose Joy,

Allison

Check out what Team Peters has been up to in our little world for the past couple of weeks!

Ben working hard on the wall above the crib!

Finished this part of the wall, and almost finished crib bedding! 

Sunday, 27 weeks! 

Heidi being the best bed rest companion ever! She never leaves my side!

My Father

Over the past couple of weeks I have been overwhelmed by the amount of people that care for us.  People have reached out to me telling me that they are praying for my son, I have received cards (which I'm making into a book for Ben), people have sent messages, texts, and calls checking on us, praying over us, and just talking to me- taking my mind off of what's going on. People have sent food, movies, books, arts and crafts, magazines, and items to keep me busy while I'm stuck in the bed.

Truly, our fridge, pantry, freezer, and hearts have never been so full.

People are making it easier for me to keep baby Ben "cooking," and I am so thankful. I am so incredibly thankful for each and every person that has gone out of their way to reach out to us in some way. I absolutely can't wait to tell my son about the amount of people that care about him already!

THANK YOU, FRIENDS!

During my hospital stay my mom was sick with a fever, and you best believe not one person on staff at MUSC would allow her to come anywhere close to that building! I knew she wanted to be with me, I knew she wanted to hug me. I now get that "mom feeling" of just wanting to do anything possible for your baby.

My mom got to feeling better, and a few days ago my parents came to visit. I was so anxious to see them. Sometimes all a kid needs is time with their parents. If you haven't gotten to that stage in your life, you will. You go through that phase when you think you're a grown up and you can totally handle "adulting" on your own. HA! Trust me, you'll always need your Mom and Dad.

Anyway, my parents came at just the right time. I was so tired of laying on my back, sitting on the couch. Staring at the same walls. My dad carefully unpacked every food item people sent, cleaned out my freezer and restocked it. My dad listened and prayed. They brought me new clothes that will be comfortable wearing while I'm stuck on bed rest. My mom carefully selected movies, old and new, to keep me entertained, she brought me a beautiful coloring book, colored pencils, and a sharpener. She brought me a stuffed animal that played calming sounds. She literally thought of everything.

I was thankful. Truly, I was extremely thankful for each item that they lugged in with them. But more than any tangible thing, I was so incredibly thankful for their presence. Being near them was exactly what my child like heart needed at that time.

Because I'm on bed rest, I obviously can't do much, but we got to do a little bit! We went to lunch at one of my favorite places, and we drove around all over Charleston (within my prescribed 20 mile radius of MUSC, of course!) They got me out of the house and got me into the car for some fresh air and some "new" sights. We talked about the heavy stuff, we talked about light-hearted things, we laughed, we were just together, and I needed nothing more, on that day, than to be with my mom and dad.

As I looked back and reflected on that time with my incredible parents, it reminded me of the relationship that we, as believers, have with our Father. He has many names, and Abba Father is such an important one.

We are His children. He desires to care for us, He desires for us to depend on Him. Let me tell you... Never before in my life have I been so dependent on Him. Ben and I are constantly facing battles lately, and it absolutely takes a toll on us physically, financially, and emotionally. But I have a Father to turn to.

I am so thankful to have a Father that cares for me.

A Father that understands my situation when no one else does.

A Father that listens to my heartache.

A Father I can cry to.

A Father that pulls me just a little closer as I sit in my place and yearn for my baby to be okay. 

A Father that can comfort me when the pieces of my heart are scattered on the beige carpet of my baby's nursery.

A Father that picks me up off of that beige carpet, and carries me.

The only way I have made it this far in this rocky journey is because my Father has carried me. When my heart is too heavy to keep filling out detailed paperwork about my son's defect, He carries me. When my ears are too tired to hear any more bad possible situations, He carries me. When my team of doctors ask me life altering questions and I am too heartbroken to form words, He carries me. When my eyes hurt from looking at those annoying sea turtles yet again, He carries me. When I literally can't make myself walk into MUSC for yet another dreaded appointment, He picks me up and He carries me.

I am so very thankful for my Father. I don't know how people go through life, full of ups and downs, full of issues and problems, full of heartbreak, without a Father. 

No matter what you're facing in your life: scary test results, parenting issues, big purchases, loss, heart break, let our Father carry you, friends.

"You are my Father, My God, and my Rock..." Psalm 89:26

Choose Joy,
Allison

LIttle Words

In the past 11 days we have spent 6 1/2 of them at MUSC.  I have mostly had fitful spurts of sleep, and I'm constantly waking up my poor husband to speak words of encouragement and calming to me.  My head pounds constantly because of one of the several medications I'm on, my back is in constant pain- partially from the constantly growing baby "bump," partially from spending so much time lying on it. But more than all of that, my heart aches for my sweet baby.

His "giant omphalocele."

My "incompetent" cervix (who even knew that was a real thing).

My emotions. He feels what I feel, he can sense my anxiety, when I'm heartbroken, sad, worried, etc...

My heart just aches for him. I know that he doesn't know any different, but those words don't always help.

Monday I sat in one of the many waiting rooms at MUSC children's hospital.  It was pretty, it really was. For a waiting room. Painted pretty, teal sea turtles adorned the walls, colorful butterflies were painted on some of the ceiling tiles.  Rachel Ray's show playing on the TV, and normally her laugh alone makes me laugh. But just not today.

I sat there, running on about 2 hours of sleep, with my patient husband who had calmed me from about 14 panic attacks in the past 18 hours, just sitting. My eyes wandered to the other visitors in the room. I thought of all of the happy, joyful mommas who have sat in that same exact seat I was sitting in. What other mommas have sat in that very room, that very same seat, super excited to go to their appointments? Did they find the sea turtles comforting? Because at this point I found them just plain annoying. Did they sit there with butterflies in their tummies because they were going to be able to see their perfect baby on the screens of the dark ultrasound room? I was sitting in that same seat, fighting a panic attack and trying my absolute hardest not to throw up on the carpet, visibly shaking.

I knew it was time to pray.  So many people pray gorgeous, eloquent, beautiful prayers.  Several people have placed their hands on my belly and done just that. But lately I just can't really find the words.

In my anxiety-ridden exhaustion, lately my prayers have been comprised of very few words.  "I trust You, give me peace." He sees my heart, He sees my pain. He knows the words that I wish I could put together to say to Him.

This was the day I had dreaded. We had 3 appointments: high risk ultrasound, meeting with our team of doctors, then meeting with our genetics counselor.

After waiting for what seemed like 3 years with those annoying sea turtles, we were ushered to a room much like the ones I have come to know so well. It was dark, filled with screens and machines. Without being told, I did what I knew I was supposed to: expose my big baby belly, lay down on the "bed," as close to the edge near the tech as I could, and fight down the vomit working it's way up my throat. But then I saw his face. His sweet, precious, beautiful face. The vomit feeling was gone, and for the first time in a couple of days a laugh, a real laugh, escaped from my lips. He was just so stinkin cute. He kicked and bumped the ultrasound thingy. He hates that thingy. I watched him make tons of faces, and I couldn't help but to laugh.  I knew that when I saw his face, I also saw His face. He was with me, He was calming me, He was protecting all of us. He was there, and He was in our corner.

Measurements were taken, pictures were made, all of that "good" stuff. Then off to the next waiting room where there were no teal sea turtles.

Next up- meeting with our team. We sat in a tiny room, I swear it had to be used in the past for a storage closet, waiting for doctors. (Insert typical joke about patients always having to wait for doctors here...)

This is the part I dreaded most of all. From my experience during this pregnancy, I have learned that doctors are required to tell you every possibility of each situation. This is not something I want to hear. I have chosen to focus on the good, encouraging part of OUR situation, but now I was going to be forced to hear what COULD happen.  I had heard it all before during our extended hospital stay. There were certain words and phrases that I dreaded more than anything. I knew that if I heard "possibility of still birth" one more time I was going to pull my hair out.

I met one of the high risk OB's, and 1 of Ben's surgeons. We sat facing them in this tiny room, and listened to their words. Well, I mostly listened. As a mom, my brain was also busy assessing them from head to toe. In that moment I was convinced that the cleanliness of their shoes was going to show their credentials for preforming an extremely high risk surgery on my infant.

They said a lot of words. They gave a lot of scenarios. They said some super scary phrases. My husband reads me so well, he knew exactly when to pat my back, squeeze my hand a little harder, or pull me a little closer on that plastic couch. I made it through the scary part, and I decided not to focus on it. We had heard worse in the hospital.

Basically, now we aren't just dealing with his ompalocele (his insides being on the outside), we are also dealing with premature birth. They explained the severity of the situation- those 2 huge issues being present for 1 infant. 

Yes, there is a chance that he won't make it to the surgery. Yes, there is a chance that he won't make it through the surgery. Yes, there's a chance that his lungs won't be able to function on their own. Yes, there is a chance that he won't be able to be fed... And if he can't be fed... Yes. I get it. I hear the words, I hear the possibilities.

I understand that these are very intense issues, but for some reason I just had a peace in my heart. For the first time ever in any of these meetings or appointments, I didn't cry. I had seen His face earlier, and I knew He was still with me. He pulled me a little closer and hugged me a little tighter with each short breath.  So many people take Him out of medical equations. I know that He's the ultimate Healer. He's Ben's Jehovah Rapha.  He's still in the miracle business. He's still healing tiny, precious babies with birth defects. He's still kissing the face of each tiny little human lying in incubators with tubes and wires covering their bodies.

This appointment was coming to a close and I had decided I loved these doctors. Seriously, I love them. (I guess their shoes were clean enough to convince me that they were capable of doing this surgery.) I am so thankful that we live here in Charleston and my son will be taken care of by these people. I trust them with my most precious little baby.  I have prayed for these doctors since I found out about the omphalocele, but now I had faces and names to put with those prayers. 

At the end of the meeting, the doctors stood up to shake our hands. I dodged the hand and hugged the surgeon as tightly as I could. I'm sure he probably told his wife about this crazy pregnant girl who hugged him so tight the breath was knocked out of him, but I couldn't help it.



"I trust You, give me peace." That's not a beautiful, eloquent prayer. It's nothing special. Those are just 6 little words, but it was my heart's cry.  He knew how deeply I meant each one of those words. He answers the beautifully scripted prayers, and he answers the short cries of His people all the same. I know that He acknowledged that I trust Him in this scary situation, and I know that He answered my prayer and provided His peace and presence.

He hears each small word, quiet cry, and silent thought that His people call to Him, and I am so thankful for His listening ears and His patient heart.


He hears you, friends. He hears your little words. I promise.

I'll keep praying my 6 little words, and I bet my bottom dollar that I'll keep seeing His face.

Choose Joy,
Allison

Choosing Joy

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, you will hear a voice behind you saying, "This is the way you should go; walk in it." - Isaiah 30:21

Over the past 3 days I can't really tell you which way- left, right, upside down, or backwards- I have been going. Let's be real, I feel pretty darn lost.

Let me just fill you in, friend. Bear with me if my thoughts seem scattered, because I know I feel scattered.

Thursday was supposed to be a normal, routine ultrasound. While having the ultrasound, a problem with my cervix was noticed. (It's extremely short). That routine ultrasound quickly turned into me being rushed upstairs to labor and delivery. (Mind you this is all at Summerville Medical Center right now, this is NOT my hospital.) Upstairs in L&D my baby was pressed on, I was stuck with countless needles, and I was asked about 3,000 questions. All while I hear the nurses talk to one another on their stupid walkie talkies about how they can't find me in the system. Of course I wasn't over come with anxiety at this point......

Now it was about 8:00,  they tell me that I'm having contractions. Not only was I having contractions right then, but I had been having contractions since Tuesday! I had been teaching, dancing, running, and playing with my kids at school all week, not a good mix! OOPS! :)

We were then told to rush to MUSC (my hospital) to Labor and Delivery there. I convinced them I didn't need an ambulance, my husband could drive us there. Okay, let's be real honest here... We drove through Chick Fil A. This momma NEEDED her a sweet tea with extra lemons! After the tea craving was satisfied we did indeed rush to MUSC, I promise!

We arrived at MUSC around 9:45. (At this point we are going on almost 7 hour since we began my ultrasound.) I was admitted and quickly hooked up to many many machines. My contractions wouldn't stop- they were getting really fast and really painful. I was on every IV drip, oral (and other form-- ew) of medicine I could possibly be on to stop these contractions and keep my son safe inside my belly.  At 1 point contractions were so close together I had 3 extremely intense ones within 10 minutes, and we were all getting scared about what was going to happen here. All we could do was pray. There was nothing else that could be done, and thankfully, that's all we really needed to do anyhow.

At 3:30 AM we were transferred OUT of L&D and moved to the pre-labor room because my contractions had STOPPED!

I have truly never been more scared in my life. I was enormously overwhelmed, and I had a panic attack when one of the doctors came in. (Poor man felt really bad. He didn't even say anything, he just walked closer to me and I had to tell him that he was giving me an attack!)

Anyway, during those 12 and a half hours I had been turned in every direction, over and over. I could literally feel my head spinning, and most things were a blur. (Maybe that was partially because all of the meds, too.) I truly felt like I was at the fair on a Tilt-A-Whirl that some drunk man was in charge of operating. I could slap that man if he was real...

I could hardly think straight, most decisions were being made for me out of necessity of the situation, then all of a sudden I was responsible for being mentally and emotionally stable enough to sign consent forms for an emergency C-Section, and deciding to take every step possible to save my very young baby. The severity of the situation hit me even harder, and it was hard to hold myself together. I needed to be in my place in my glider in my son's room. I needed to weep alone, rather than in front of the 30 faces I had seen in these 12 hours. I needed to scream out to my God at the top of my lungs. I just needed to be alone. I needed, desperately needed to be detached from these machines. I needed to be held by my husband on the floor of Baby Ben's room, I needed to cry in his lap.
But that just wasn't an option. This is where my son needs to be, and I will be here for him.

Once things finally slowed down, I was able to feel a little more stable, and a little more like Allison.
 

During the midst of all this, there are many blessings we have encountered. People of all kinds- strangers, friends, family, and new friends that will be my nurses until after Ben is born- have gone out of their way to help us. We are so incredibly blessed to have so many people who care about us, and more importantly, care about my Benjamin Michael.

I have many people who are praying that my Ben stays "cooking" for at least a few more weeks. As excited as I am to meet him, this is just too soon. I need to feel him moving around in my belly for several more weeks. However, I know God is the author of this story, and we will gladly be a part of His beautiful story, no matter what happens. 

I have decided to choose joy.  I have decided that I'm not in charge of any decisions. I'm not in charge of the time line or the day my son enters this crazy world. It is so far out of my hands. My God is the only one who is in the business of decision making in this whole ordeal.

Ben and I have decided over and over to choose joy. We have found opportunities to giggle, joke, and just be US. Ben was able to bring me Heidi, my precious fur baby for an hour or so, which greatly helped my anxiety. We have had the chances to laugh at baby Ben's activeness and his hiccups. My precious husband and I have found small moments to play as he rolls me around in my wheel chair. We have found time to snuggle and watch movies, take a quick "date" for ice cream and exploring the gardens. I'm pretty sure all of the nurses have heard me sing out "They see me rollin.... They hatin!" down the hall as Ben pushes me in the wheelchair 1 too many times. :)

Simply, we have chosen joy.

I have broken down many, many times. I have barely slept, and I have shaken with fear for hours on end. And that's okay, friends. The important thing to remember is to not live or stay in that place of fear.

"Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not anxiously look about you- for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Surely I will help you. Surely I will uphold you with my righteous hand." - Isaiah 41:10.

How perfect is that? A the end of the day, this amazing, beautiful promise is all that matters. When you read that promise, ti's hard NOT to choose joy when you know our mighty God, our Jehovah Rapha, is on our side. He's got His mighty hand on my tiny son.

We will continue to find small, beautiful moments in this place. We will continue to choose joy. No matter what your situation is, friends, choose joy. It's so liberating. It's so powerful, it's so freeing. It's the only option I have. I will choose joy.


Here are a few captured moments we have stolen away together, a few of the times we have chosen joy.

Heidi comes to visit during mommy's wheelchair time!

 

 Ice cream date in the cafeteria!

 

Snuggle and movie time!

Please continue to pray for us, sweet friends. We are just a few steps down a long and rough journey. We will be in the hospital indefinitely. I am on bed rest until BMP makes his entry into this world. But this is our journey, and we will make it beautiful. We will choose JOY!

A Momma's Cry-- "Why?"

Sometimes I think that I’m going to wake up and all of this is a dream.  I think that really, truly, somehow Ben is perfectly healthy, his tummy has no gaping hole, all of his insides are really on the inside, there will be no NICU stay, and I will be able to hold my own baby right away and not have to wait several months. That’s the worst part of all of this, and I know it’s selfish… But I just want to hold my baby.  Sometimes I just think that this isn’t really real. But it is.

I was driving down a busy road in the rain, running late of course, to my most recent ultrasound. I was burning up, sweating, yet feeling cold. I was swollen from head to toe, but also felt a little empty, maybe it was just nervousness. I just dreaded it. All I could do was ask why?

The “why’s?” got me… Why him? Why my son? Why so many other babies perfectly healthy and my baby isn’t? Why me? Why my family? My little family has so much on our plate already right now, why is this happening? WHY?

The “why’s” lasted for a few days.  It’s human to feel this way, I know it is. If you were in this position, you’d have these days too. I think its okay, too, to have these moments. Let’s be real, I’m tired. I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally tired.

At work I give my all to my kids every minute of the school day, I busy myself during my few “breaks” so that my mind doesn’t wander, I respond to work emails until I go to bed. When I get home from work I busy myself with dishes, laundry, cooking dinner, walking Heidi, cleaning. When my husband comes home he consumes my thoughts and actions, he’s my world. I have found ways to busy myself. The laundry doesn’t have to be done, I probably wasted more water running that load of dishes that wasn’t even full, and let’s be real, I’m not making dinner from scratch, but man can I stretch that cooking time to last a while!

Then, I just need to sit. If you’re following our journey, you know that a couple of weekends ago, my husband and I spent the weekend working on the nursery. Ben put together the glider so that I can have a place other than the floor to spend my time in that room. This simple, soft, gray glider has become my place of solace, my place of rest, my place of tears, prayers, and gut wrenching sobs.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in that place.

So as I was in this place I was dealing with the “why’s” I was going through. I’ve said before I that I know why know why—I was in this situation because we were made for this, that we are a family of miracles… And all of this is true.  I know this is a part of His plan, His miracle story.  But maybe it’s more than that.

Recently a certain Promise has made its way into my heart, my head, and my hands over and over. It’s this beautiful promise: "Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) I definitely fit the category of weary and burdened, and I’ve found comfort in that last part: “I will give you rest.”

But the first part of that sincere Promise is even more important to me lately: “Come to Me…” Lately I’ve seen it as a beckoning, a cry from Him to come to Him. He wants me to be close, He wants me to depend on Him, to trust Him. Maybe that’s what this is all about… A beckoning whispered to me in the darkness of night when I’m sitting in my place in my son’s room. A beckoning shouted at me as I’m lying on that uncomfortable medical table with my swollen stomach exposed, a beckoning cried to me in every small moment of my day. Maybe, just maybe, that’s what this is all about. An opportunity to draw closer to Him. An opportunity to come back home. An opportunity for my heart and soul to be filled with what truly matters.

As I have said before: of course I will have these days that I’ll be drained in every way. I’ll have the human days where I ask “why?” I’ll have the days where I’m just not really as strong as the face that I present. But it’s all about that beautiful beckoning, the call to my heart. The simple request for me to come. 

And I am answering that beautiful request with every single ounce of my tired and weary heart. 

Rejuvenation- to make fresh or new again

This week I had ZERO, yes ZERO doctor appointments, ultra sounds, blood drawn, or tests! Because of this, I declared this week and weekend to be a super one, an amazing time.  I decided that I am going to treat the rest of this pregnancy like it’s completely normal. (It was much easier to do without having my big belly prodded, needles sucking blood out of my arm, discussions with strangers in white scrubs about insurance, and hearing about the inevitable NICU stay.)

So, this past week I have done some fun things for Baby Ben (and myself)! My spirits have been up, my heart is so full of joy! We decided to tackle the nursery this weekend! After a breakfast at Waffle House.. (which let me tell you, every pregnant woman needs to have breakfast there. I begged my hubby to let me hug the cooks, and I was so elated to have all my cravings satisfied in 1 place! Ahhh-mazing! I’m pretty sure my squeals of excitement were a little over the top, even in a place like Waffle House…)

Anyway, after our delightful meal, we went to the local paint store and I carefully picked out 1 of the million colors of white for the walls of the nursery. I HAD to get rid of those dreadful green/yellow walls.  I helped tape up all of the edges, and my sweet husband painted the whole nursery! I was so thankful… But then I walked in the room and saw it. So Sunday afternoon… Back to the paint store! I decided on a light gray, and without a complaint, Ben re painted the entire room.

Ben also put the gorgeous crib together, and it looks so nice! I’m obsessed with it! I can’t wait to lay my handsome son in it!  

I am so thankful for all of the hard work my husband has done to make this room perfect for Baby Ben. Although I giggled several times at his frustration with the crib, he has pretty much attacked this nursery (and my indecisiveness) with such grace and patience.  I love you more and more each day, and I love watching you as you become a daddy! Thanks, Benji, you’re my rock!

I realized we have only about 109 days left until Baby Ben will enter the world! I had someone say to me,” Why worry about getting his room ready when he won’t need it for a few months after anyway?” Well, my friend, I believe in miracles. I want everything to be ready the moment he comes into the world, just as if he were coming home those short 48 hours later. Who knows how long he will really be in the NICU, anyhow! Don’t forget, we’re a family of miracles. Also, it really helps my anxious heart to have positive, uplifting tasks to do regarding this whole situation.

In addition, I have felt Ben move more and more each day, and this week he has been super active! Looks like he’s getting his daddy’s hyper energy! I absolutely love feeling my son kick, twist, punch, run and dance in my belly! Heidi even felt it while we were snuggling, and she was quite alarmed! I wish I could describe the feelings and emotions I get when I feel those “little” movements. Moms, I know you understand.

This past week has been so beautiful and positive. I am so thankful that my heart got to rest and relax, basking in the many blessings that we have in this pregnancy. 

As I get ready for the upcoming week- 2 appointments: 1 regular OB/GYN, 1 specialist and high risk ultrasound, I am at peace. My heart is full and happy, and I am ready to bring this positivity into my appointments. I am so looking forward to seeing my sweet boy on Tuesday! I can’t wait to see how much he has grown. Here I come, week! This momma is ready!

Thank You, Lord, for reminding me of Your blessings and Your grace. Thank You for rejuvenating my soul like only You can do. I feel fresh, I feel made new again. Thank You.

Here are a few pictures from the weekend!

Ben working hard on the crib!

(And Heidi!)

Before… scary!

Gray walls!

Heidi is pooped after all this hard work!

The Power of Prayer

"For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst." -Matthew 18:20

I sat criss-cross in a barely padded chair clinging to my husband’s arm and leaning against my new friend- and high risk ultra sound tech- Terri. I tried to listen to the words that this specialist in Atlanta was telling me via webcam in this tiny room filled with machines and screens. I hear some jumbled words about my son’s heart, and the possibility of a mental disability.

In a daze, I nodded my head up and down as she said her words, whatever they were. Tears were streaming down my face. No, I had no idea what she was saying; I just knew I was being ushered into another annoyingly small, machine and screen filled room for more testing.

I did a number of various genetics testing. When I tell you they took a lot of blood, I mean they took a. lot. of. blood. 

They explained that the spot on the heart was a soft sign for a specific mental disability, and these genetics tests would let me know in 2 weeks whether we would be dealing with that on top of his omphalocele.  No sweat, right! It’s just 2 weeks of waiting! (Please read the sarcasm there, people.)

We decided to force ourselves to cling to the Truth of Matthew 6:34, "So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own." 

Now really, if you read every word of this, you can see God’s humor with this verse and our current situation. Each day has enough trouble of its own… AMEN, Lord, I get it! Anyway, we decided not to worry about the weeks to come, but to focus on the positive, and try not to borrow trouble. Easier said than done.

Ben and I kept this information to ourselves- we had just dropped the omphalocele bomb on our family, and Lord knows our families worry… So we kept this one from them until we knew definite information.

Every day I did my best not to borrow trouble, I did my best not to worry about this. But let’s be real, that’s all I thought about. All day I thought about if I was strong enough to handle both a physical and mental issue. All night, between the few minutes of restless sleep, and tormenting nightmares, the possibility of this filled every thought. I was sinking…drowning in anxiety.

I spent hours in my son’s nursery in the darkness of night praying. Praying about the results, praying for my heart to be prepared, praying for peace as God’s will was going to be done. As I was kneeling down on the floor crying out to my Jehovah Rapha, I told Him I just can’t handle this by myself. Ben and I couldn’t walk down this long, rough journey alone. He reminded me… when 2 or 3 gather together… I decided to reach out to a few of my friends and my family members, without giving details- just explaining that we had some genetics tests done- and I asked for prayers. My mom committed, of course, to pray for us every minute of the day, and she is always faithful in that. She is an incredible encouragement! I talked with my dad, and if there’s 1 person you can count on to recruit prayer warriors, that’s Mike Hamlet, my friends! I’m pretty sure he took this job on full time… Praying over this and recruiting others to do the same for my tiny, helpless, precious B.

…1 week and 5 days later...

I was in the middle of teaching social studies when I got the most amazing message on my phone. (Yep, these days with all of the doctors calling, I keep my phone with me at work.)

A nurse at my OB’s office, and extremely dear friend, Whitney, sent me a message. Whitney knows me well, and I’m sure she knew that I hadn’t slept in 12 days, hadn’t gone a day without sobbing, and that my knees had carpet burn from spending countless hours on them in my B’s nursery. “We got the results, they’re negative!!” I dropped the phone, I dropped to my knees, and all I could say was “Thank You.” That message changed my world.  

We found out that the calcium deposit on my Benjamin Michael’s heart was not related to a mental illness, and it would correct itself as he grew bigger and stronger. Thank You, Lord. Thank You, Jehovah Rapha! Your grace is so beautiful!

In those 12 days, my little B was covered in prayers. Ben and I were covered in prayers. I received countless messages, texts, emails, and even some beautiful hand written cards (which are being made into a book for my son) from supportive people, from prayer warriors.  People have been praying. Not just here in town. Not just here in South Carolina… But literally all over the country people have been praying for my Benjamin Michael. As I sit here now and think about all of the people who have been reaching out to us during this time, tears are streaming down my face. Every single message, card, phone call, and text message is a gift from God. Each one gives me enough push to get to the next hour. Knowing that you are praying encourages me to hold up my tired arms in the correct boxing position (thanks, husband for teaching me) with my trusty dusty boxing gloves on and face the day.  

He promised, y’all. He promised "For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst." Well, more than 2 or 3 gathered together... More like 2 or 3 hundred gathered together and prayed for my tiny B. And you know what? He absolutely is holding up His promise. He is here in our midst. He is daily working His phenomenal miracles in my little family of miracles. 

Our journey is far from over. But this little, tiny bit of good news was just what we needed. This was the first good news we had gotten in all the months of my pregnancy. We needed this miracle. Please keep praying, friends. We have a long way to go, but as I have said before, and as He has shown to be true, there's power in prayer. It is so evident in my life, it's undeniable. There is great, tremendous power in prayer.

Thank you for your support, thank you for your prayers.

Thank you for your grace, Lord.

-Allison

His profile with his hands together at his chin. Maybe he already knows about the power of prayer! :)

Our first steps down this road...

We sat in the dusty, under construction, waiting area of Summerville Medical Center. A mound of paperwork for me to fill out, some unimportant tennis match on a distant TV, and a few people sitting, staring, waiting. We did the same. We sat and waited.  I filled out the enormous amount of paperwork, including writing and signing my name 23 times.

I did what I was supposed to... Sit, paperwork, hide my borderline panic attack, sit, wait, fight tears, sign my name, write the date, sit, wait.  They called my name and fitted a hospital band on my wrist. 

"Does that fit?"

"Yes."

"Is that your name?"

"Yes."

"Initial here, sign here."

"Okay."

I realized this was just the first of these thin, itchy, annoying little paper bracelets that are to come in my near future.

We were quietly ushered down the halls of migraine-inducing bright fluorescent lights to a small, dark room filled with machines.

"Allison?"

"Yes."

(Bracelet checked, like someone would lie about who they are right now?)

"Sit here."

"Okay."

I'm pretty sure those were the only 2 words my exhausted brain could come up with... "yes" and "okay." I sat down, exposed my swollen, pregnant belly, and waited to be pushed on with the big ultrasound wand thingy. This was the first time I dreaded that thing.

Thankfully, the ultrasound technician, Teri, was phenomenal. She was kind-hearted, sweet, and slightly apologetic.

Before she began I took a deep breath, preparing myself to see this "birth defect" in detail with this high tech, HD ultrasound camera. Suddenly I felt 2 things: A gentle hand on my shoulder, clearly my Lord calming me. And 2 other hands, 1 on each ankle, my precious husband supporting me, comforting me.  I wish he could be closer, but there were too many machines and screens.

As the screen revealed my son's prominent "defects" 1 name continuously sounded in my head, in my heart: Jehovah Rapha.

I couldn't pray words at that time, I don't think I could form a sentence.  But I could cry out inside over and over: Jehovah Rapha, Jehovah Rapha, Jehovah Rapha.  I didn't need to say more... There is power in the name of Jesus, you see.

"This is the omphalocele, you can see his liver and bowels."

"Jehovah Rapha."

"His stomach is also trying to push out."

"Jehovah Rapha."

"Awe, look at his sweet profile. He's cute!"

"Jehovah Rapha."

"He has long legs and arms like his daddy."

"Jehovah Rapha."

Pictures were printed, only the ones I'd actually want to see later, of course.  My belly was once again covered, and I could finally get my hands in their rightful place: holding my swollen belly to get as close to my son as possible.  We listened to the specialist, Dr. Patterson, via web cam, give us more details.

"He will need to get bigger."

"Jehovah Rapha."

"He will be inthe NICU for a couple of months at least."

"Jehovah Rapha."

"Since there is a birth defect, you can legally terminate the pregnancy up to 24 weeks in this state."

-- BOOM, walls shattered, ground broken, a ton of bricks just hit me square on top of the head. -- I could form a sentence.

Ben and I immediately locked eyes.  A small chuckle of disbelief escaped my husband's beautiful lips.

"Ma'am," I said, "I escaped abortion. My husband survived cancer. My son will survive this."

We are a family of miracles, you see.  We have Jehovah Rapha on our side.

Things began to click, God was slowly unraveling this part of His plan.  We are in this situation for a very specific reason.  Our story was written containing more than just one miracle, more than even two miracles.  There couldn't be a more perfect couple in the universe to have this child.  God gave me a chance, God gave my Benji a chance, and we will give my son a chance.  God gave him to us because we can handle it.  We are a family of miracles.  Only by the grace of God, our Jehovah Rapha, are we here.  And we are here for our miracle son.

Somehow, as we walked out of the frigid medical center in to the humid, misty parking lot, I was encouraged.  I was encouraged because I knew without a shadow of doubt, that this is a part of our story for a reason.  We can handle this.  Will there be dark days? Yes, of course. Will I weep for hours on end? Of course.  Will we be drained physically, emotionally, financially, and mentally?  You bet. But Jehovah Rapha is on our side.  I was born for this.  My Ben was made for this.  He provides me with His strength.  We will get out our boxing gloves, dust them off again, and we will fight.  My perfectly imperfect son will fight. And with our Savior on our side we will be unstoppable.