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.

Join us on our journey..

Welcome, Friends!  

On the pages of this blog you will see the journey that I am on.  It will be a long road, but I am convinced that this is my story for a reason. Ben and I found out that our sweet unborn son, Benjamin Michael has an omphalocele.  

This is a rare birth defect (1 in every 5-7 thousand) in which the bowel, liver, and other abdominal organs protrude out of the abdomen. (Some of his “insides” are on the outside.)  In our case, Baby Ben’s bowel and liver are currently protruding, and part of his stomach is also trying to push its way out. This was not caused by anything that was or was not done on anyone’s part (yes, mommies, that was my first question.)  Our doctors told us that his omphalocele was there from the beginning, before we even knew the joyous news that we were pregnant.
My precious son will be born perfectly imperfect.

These posts will follow our journey on this road, I pray you will be encouraged, as well as find my Baby Ben in your prayers.