Like most new moms who want to record at least some memory’s
of their children’s births, I have been met with an ongoing dilemma: take a nap
(since BOTH boys are sleeping), or write.
So today, I sacrifice my nap and cross my fingers that Samuel sleeps
longer than 3 hour intervals tonight.
Before time has a chance to blur my memory, I feel a hurried
obligation to say just.how.relieved I am that Samuel is here: in our arms,
breathing, crying, sleeping, eating. Just days before Thomas’s due date on
March 8th of this year, days after I found out I was pregnant again, our doctor told us that I was exhibiting all
the signs of a miscarriage, including what appeared to be, via ultrasound, an
empty sac. We were given three options: allow the miscarriage to occur on its
own, schedule a D&C, or go home and take a prescription drug that would
induce the miscarriage. We chose option number one, and we returned one week later
for a final ultrasound. As the ultrasound tech proclaimed the words I had
prepared myself not to hear (“Well,
there’s a heartbeat…”), the Lord was even then forming Samuel in my womb, and
we realized that the Lord had placed a hedge of protection around him,
shielding him from both the doctors and from our own near decision to do what we
thought most people would do in our position. Nine months later, here he is!!
This was difficult enough as an isolated event, but to
happen just five months after losing our second son seemed unbearable. Everything about this pregnancy seemed so precarious. And so
the pregnancy continued, as did my level of anxiety. I could not begin to count
how many times I created my own ending to this story: I constantly prepared
myself to be told we had lost another child. But it never happened. We (really,
it was just me) approached every ultrasound and every fetal heartbeat check with
disproportionate fear, but each time we were met with an active, healthy heartbeat. My days were
spent in a (near) obsessive preoccupation with feeling Samuel’s movements: it
was a roller coaster of ups and downs, relief each time I felt a kick and worry
if he didn’t move when I wanted him to. Proverbs
16:9 has never been more meaningful: “The heart of man plans his way, but the
LORD establishes his steps.”
Since the day we lost Thomas, I prayed desperately for the
day when we could leave the hospital with a child, when the memories
surrounding his death could be redeemed in new life. I envisioned the day that the doctor who delivered Thomas would deliver another child of ours, with joy as an ending (this wish came true!). I also wished that our nurse that night would one day hold our living child, and we could replace tears with laughter (this wish also came true!).
When Samuel was born on
October 22nd, we looked on him with wonder, amazed that God would
see fit to allow us to steward this soul that nearly wasn’t to be (humanly
speaking, of course). In his birth, the Lord restored our joy and revealed to
us that His ways are not our ways. I hope I can always remember the glorious
relief I felt the minute we met Samuel and heard his strong cries. Although he
is no safer out of my womb than in it, my fears of losing another child to
stillbirth were over. And as time passes and life returns to normal (being
pregnant for a collective 16 months over a 19 month period made our lives
pretty whacky), I continue to pray that the Lord would reveal Himself to us in
new ways. If the Lord’s refining me was a test (and it was), I failed over and
over again. So many times. As I look at Samuel’s sweet face, I can’t help but
seek the Lord’s forgiveness for my unbelief, and pray that He will give me a
clearer vision of what it looks like to live out the unknown with strength and trust
in His will. Over and over again, I decided what this pregnancy would look like, and over and over again, God said, "Not so fast."
Sheldon Van Auken was a contemporary of C.S. Lewis who lost
his wife to cancer and was converted as a result of his friendship with Lewis.
His memoir is called A Severe Mercy, and
I can’t get the title out of my head. It is such a fitting description of our
last year—last November 14th we mourned (and continue to mourn) the loss
of our Thomas. Our boys will always know they had another brother who got to
meet Jesus, and we will speak of him as he is: one of our three children that
we love and look forward to meeting one day. This November 14th, we
will remember with soberness that day that everything changed, and we will
rejoice that God has given us Samuel, our little miracle.
Our doctor holding Samuel
Regina, our nurse from November 14th of last year, holding Samuel
The best family picture we could get
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