Friday, December 5, 2014

Chin Up, Seat Belt On

October 13th, 2014.  This is a day I will remember forever.  It was an ordinary Monday with ordinary occurrences and it started off just like any another day.  We had an ultrasound scheduled that morning which we were certain we were going to breeze through and get back to all of the things on our to-do list.  But it wasn’t just another day; it was the day we learned our babies had an aggressive form of Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS); a rare disease in which the blood is not shared evenly between the babies and if left untreated is almost certainly a death sentence for at least one, if not both, babies. 

We were 15 weeks 1 day along in the pregnancy.  The doctor told us TTTS doesn’t usually show its ugly head for another 4-6 weeks and when it shows up early it moves quickly so we had to move faster.  If we wanted to save our babies we needed surgery, but the surgery we needed wasn’t available in St. Louis.  Our doctors recommended we go to Denver where they have the best surgeon in the country for TTTS, but they rarely operated before 16 weeks and we were just 15 weeks 1 day.  

That was Monday.  By Thursday we were on the road to Denver.  We had no idea how long we would be gone or if we would return with two babies, one, or none.  But we had to try! We had to do everything we could to protect the lives we had been entrusted to nurture; even if those lives may be impacted with debilitating birth defects like cerebral palsy or mental retardation.  These were our babies and we would do anything to save them. So we packed our bags, we kissed our two small children goodbye and we started the 12.5 hour drive to Denver.  

There was a heavy fog over the valley near the Missouri River on our way out of St. Louis.  Whenever I cross the river I always make a point to look out my window, but that day the fog was so thick the river was barely visible from the bridge.  Something about that fog took my breath away; I knew the river was there, I knew it curved to the right, I knew there were trees on either side, but I couldn’t see any of it through the fog.  It was almost suffocating.  It bothered me tremendously that I couldn’t see.   I couldn’t see where my future was going, I couldn’t see where the future of my babies was going, and now I couldn’t even see where the river was going.

Then I realized that I didn’t need to know where the river was going, I just needed to know it was there!  The fog didn’t make it disappear, it just made it hard to see. And I didn’t really need to know the complete map of my future, I just needed to trust that God did and He would guide me step-by-step even if I couldn’t immediately see the next foothold.  Just because I was surrounded by fog didn’t mean I was lost and alone!

As we drove the fog lifted and so did my spirits.  I chose to appreciate the goodness; we still had two beating hearts inside of me and we had two beautiful beating hearts at home.  We had each other.  We had so many blessings!  Yes, there was a long road ahead of us (both literally and figuratively), but we chose to stop and smell the flowers along the way. Seriously! (I'll bet you didn't know that Kansas is home to the world's largest sunflower, did you?)

What better way to cut through the fog than with sunshine and sunflowers?


The next time you feel lost in the fog consider reading the following verse (it's my personal favorite) to help regain your footing so you can take the next step with confidence.

Romans 8:28
And we know in all things God works for good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.  
Inspirational Quote:
"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
My Prayer:
Dear Heavenly Father,
I feel lost and afraid.  Please lead us through this fog.  Please keep our babies safe in the palm of your hand. I know in all things you work for the good of those who love you.  I love you and therefore I trust you and I trust your plan for our family, wherever it may lead us. Thank you for your loving grace.  Amen.

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