Although a terribly neglected blog, I remain thankful that it preserves many precious thoughts and lessons. My last post, now over a year old, was so rich to reread today. God had really been teaching me and months of lessons culminated in our vacation and that entry.
Now, thirteen months later I can say that I have remained in God's "School for Saints." I hope to never stop learning. But I would not have ever asked for my lessons to come in such sad presentations.
(Apparently I had already started to write about this event last year and just posted it today upon it's discovery...but I've decided to post this version too and hope to ultimately add to it, bringing this blog up to date.)
When we travelled to the Gulf last May I was pregnant with one who we hoped was to be our tenth child. Up to that time we had experienced three very early miscarriages and being forty-one I suspected that we shouldn't feel certainty about meeting any more of our children until we arrive in Heaven. The first three miscarriages preceded each of our last three born children. So we were developing a certain pattern: an early miscarriage followed shortly by a healthy pregnancy and baby and it all happened within two years of the birth of the last child. Yep, it was definitely a great place for God to redirect ny hope from being placed upon a certain pattern in life to truly placing my faith in God's sufficiency everyday, come what may.
In May 2012, the bleeding started, but since many recent pregancies had included some bleeding but the babies remained safe, I didn't react with much concern. I was 10 1/2 weeks along and had not seen my doctor yet so I went for my first appointment. No heartbeat was heard with the office doppler (and this was not alarming to me either due to the age of the baby) so I was sent to the hospital for an ultrasound.
On the morning of my appointment I had began to cry out to God about the situation as I noticed the bleeding had increased. While driving to the office I praised him (along with Chris Tomlin) at the top of my voice proclaiming that nothing can stand against me because God is for me. I committed the baby and my day to God, and promised to praise Him no matter.
At the hospital I was tempted to feel sorry for myself and even respond emotionally or rudely to the folks who were just doing their jobs by treating me like a cow on a cattle drive. But as I studied the faces of the others who came in and out of the hospital and those waiting with me I felt compassion for them. I was seemingly the healthiest person in the building, even if a child had died inside of me. And with nine healthy children safely at home, to whom I would return, I felt like the most blessed of anyone I saw that morning. So I prayed for the others. I prayed until I recognized a neighbor and moved near him to inquire about his visit. He explained that his wife was having some testing and I told him that I would be praying for her. He is the sort of neighbor that I waved at as I walk by. We don't even know each other's names. They don't go to church and he didn't speak of faith or God. I accepted it as a sign that God wanted to intersect His day.
In the ultrasound room I learned that I had a ten week placenta and sac but no baby! At that point I didn't care what their latest term was for this sadness. I was shocked. Disappointed. Ultimately angry. But God never left me there to wallow for even a second. My eyes drifted over to a drawer in the room labeled "biopsy supplies" and again I was reminded of how blessed I was that I had come to inquire about a baby and not a disease.
After having a miscarriage at home at only 7 weeks that bordered dangerous in terms of bleeding, I agreed quickly with my doctor who suggested a D and C under anesthesia in the OR that evening. I confirmed that I had not eaten in a few hours and would not eat or drink again until after the surgery. Then I worked to retrieve my husband from work in time to be at my appointment in the surgical unit.
Having been pro-life all my life I was aware that the procedure I was going to undergo was essentially the same as an abortion except that I was agreeing to help my body rid itself of something that wasn't likely to come naturally without great risk. I still didn't care for the idea but since there was a baby's body to contend over, intellectually I was able to move forward. God's peace was lavished upon me as I counted the potential cost of not surviving the surgery.
In the surgical unit I was treated like a queen and Bob and I were able to testify of our faith and passion about raising and educating our children for the Lord's purposes. One of my nurses was a dear friend's next-door neighbor and therefore she was familiar with large family living and spoke highly of our friend's family and of us to the other medical staff.
The twenty-five minutes that I spent "under" were indescribable. Although I had go into surgery with a great desire to survive, I remember not wanting to come out of the incredible dream or vision I was having while asleep. It was truly the deepest most restful sleep I've ever had. The nurse said that when I became conscious I had a huge smile on my face. The memory is not so vivid now, but I recall that I was convinced that God had met me during my surgery. The only things I recalled were very bright "lighting" and a penetrating presence of perfect love and joy. We returned home shortly with no worries and not a single ill effect of the day's experiences.
Now, thirteen months later I can say that I have remained in God's "School for Saints." I hope to never stop learning. But I would not have ever asked for my lessons to come in such sad presentations.
(Apparently I had already started to write about this event last year and just posted it today upon it's discovery...but I've decided to post this version too and hope to ultimately add to it, bringing this blog up to date.)
When we travelled to the Gulf last May I was pregnant with one who we hoped was to be our tenth child. Up to that time we had experienced three very early miscarriages and being forty-one I suspected that we shouldn't feel certainty about meeting any more of our children until we arrive in Heaven. The first three miscarriages preceded each of our last three born children. So we were developing a certain pattern: an early miscarriage followed shortly by a healthy pregnancy and baby and it all happened within two years of the birth of the last child. Yep, it was definitely a great place for God to redirect ny hope from being placed upon a certain pattern in life to truly placing my faith in God's sufficiency everyday, come what may.
In May 2012, the bleeding started, but since many recent pregancies had included some bleeding but the babies remained safe, I didn't react with much concern. I was 10 1/2 weeks along and had not seen my doctor yet so I went for my first appointment. No heartbeat was heard with the office doppler (and this was not alarming to me either due to the age of the baby) so I was sent to the hospital for an ultrasound.
On the morning of my appointment I had began to cry out to God about the situation as I noticed the bleeding had increased. While driving to the office I praised him (along with Chris Tomlin) at the top of my voice proclaiming that nothing can stand against me because God is for me. I committed the baby and my day to God, and promised to praise Him no matter.
At the hospital I was tempted to feel sorry for myself and even respond emotionally or rudely to the folks who were just doing their jobs by treating me like a cow on a cattle drive. But as I studied the faces of the others who came in and out of the hospital and those waiting with me I felt compassion for them. I was seemingly the healthiest person in the building, even if a child had died inside of me. And with nine healthy children safely at home, to whom I would return, I felt like the most blessed of anyone I saw that morning. So I prayed for the others. I prayed until I recognized a neighbor and moved near him to inquire about his visit. He explained that his wife was having some testing and I told him that I would be praying for her. He is the sort of neighbor that I waved at as I walk by. We don't even know each other's names. They don't go to church and he didn't speak of faith or God. I accepted it as a sign that God wanted to intersect His day.
In the ultrasound room I learned that I had a ten week placenta and sac but no baby! At that point I didn't care what their latest term was for this sadness. I was shocked. Disappointed. Ultimately angry. But God never left me there to wallow for even a second. My eyes drifted over to a drawer in the room labeled "biopsy supplies" and again I was reminded of how blessed I was that I had come to inquire about a baby and not a disease.
After having a miscarriage at home at only 7 weeks that bordered dangerous in terms of bleeding, I agreed quickly with my doctor who suggested a D and C under anesthesia in the OR that evening. I confirmed that I had not eaten in a few hours and would not eat or drink again until after the surgery. Then I worked to retrieve my husband from work in time to be at my appointment in the surgical unit.
Having been pro-life all my life I was aware that the procedure I was going to undergo was essentially the same as an abortion except that I was agreeing to help my body rid itself of something that wasn't likely to come naturally without great risk. I still didn't care for the idea but since there was a baby's body to contend over, intellectually I was able to move forward. God's peace was lavished upon me as I counted the potential cost of not surviving the surgery.
In the surgical unit I was treated like a queen and Bob and I were able to testify of our faith and passion about raising and educating our children for the Lord's purposes. One of my nurses was a dear friend's next-door neighbor and therefore she was familiar with large family living and spoke highly of our friend's family and of us to the other medical staff.
The twenty-five minutes that I spent "under" were indescribable. Although I had go into surgery with a great desire to survive, I remember not wanting to come out of the incredible dream or vision I was having while asleep. It was truly the deepest most restful sleep I've ever had. The nurse said that when I became conscious I had a huge smile on my face. The memory is not so vivid now, but I recall that I was convinced that God had met me during my surgery. The only things I recalled were very bright "lighting" and a penetrating presence of perfect love and joy. We returned home shortly with no worries and not a single ill effect of the day's experiences.
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