Bending

Yesterday was a tough day.  It was one of those days when reality is just a little too rough around the edges.

I had a regular follow-up appointment with my OB and decided to go by myself because Newbie's fighting a cold and I couldn't bring myself to drag him out of bed.  So the Hubs stayed home with Newbie, and I went to an appointment alone for the first time through this entire pregnancy.  (Rocky pregnancies will cause you to bring along a little moral support most of the time).  I regretted going alone as soon as my OB and I started talking.  She was super, super sweet  as she explained that since I'm 6 months pregnant and Jubilee could potentially survive (if only for a few minutes) after she's born, it would be best for her to transfer my care to an expert with more experience delivering high risk pregnancies.  She said she struggled with the decision because she wanted to walk this road with me.  She said she was attached to me and didn't want to let me go.  But then she said that she knew it was the right thing to do, and this would be my last appointment with her.

Sock to the gut.

With all that we've talked about the past week or so with the specialists at our ultrasound, I knew that we're getting into some heavy stuff that will require a lot of experience and skill, but I wasn't prepared to have the one familiar thing on this journey taken from me. I was hoping that I could stick with my sweet OB through to the end- she delivered Newbie, and there's just some comfort in working with someone you've known for a while. 

Silent tears slipped down my cheeks as she hugged me and told me she'd stay in touch and come see me in the hospital.

Was this really happening?

The one common denominator between Newbie and Eden and Jubilee was her, and she has been so, so accommodating and helpful and encouraging during such a confusing and overwhelming situation over the past 6 months.  Half a year plus the birth of my healthy baby boy, plus the loss of my daughter.  I wanted something to stay the same between all three of my pregnancies- something to vouch for normalcy and solid ground in the crazy world I've entered where everything has been turned upside down.

I felt so defeated.

This is really happening.

I am a high risk pregnancy.

Jubilee really is so sick that I need to see a specialist for the rest of the time we have her here.

I sat in the car in the parking lot, keys in the ignition, and pounded on the steering wheel.  I asked Him why and begged God not to leave- to give me some sign that He's got this and that just because the bottom fell out on everything I knew didn't mean He was out of control too.  The tears came easy, and fists clenched, still pounding the wheel, I fell apart.

My radio was on as I sobbed, and as soon as my heart had uttered the words, show me you are in this, I heard these words come from the speakers:

I won't give you more than you can take

I might let you bend, but I won't let you break

And no, I'll never let you go

Oh, how I was bending.

I let the wave of emotion overtake me again as the words washed over me and soaked in deep.

I might let you bend, but I won't let you break

Deep breath. I wiped the tears dripping off the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking lot.  As I made my way down the freeway, I was still frustrated.  He had sent an encouraging word, but my heart was hot with the feeling of losing everything I knew. Why?  Why can't I have one thing in this that doesn't change?  I'm losing my daughter- she's half the size she should be, and there's no reason to believe she will survive unless you do something miraculous.  I want to keep her here!  I want her to be healthy, for all of this to go away.  I'm trying to be faithful through this suffering. Why does it all have to be scary and unfamiliar and unknown?  Can't there be ONE thing, Lord, ONE thing that stays the same?  Can't I have ONE thing that is steadfast and familiar in this sea of bad news and miserable prognosis and dark days?

I blinked the hot tears out of my eyes again as I laid my insides out for Him to see and hear.  Lord, do you see me?! Do you see how far I am bent? Can there not be ONE thing that doesn't change?!

Then, through the roar of my car racing down the road and the groans of a mother on the brink of losing her baby girl, I heard Him, a still, soft whisper say:

I never change.  Beloved, I AM.  I Am the one thing that is steadfast and familiar.  I Am the One that will not change.  And I Am with you always.  Beloved, I. never. change.

I probably should have pulled over then, because I completely lost it.  He said exactly what I had known all along: no matter how hard we cling to the things we know, the things we want, the things we think we have control over and we desperately seek to save, He is the only, only thing we are ever guaranteed will not change.  In essence, He is all we truly have.  And for me, He is enough.

The road is long.  The road is hard.  It is dark and winding, and I may lose absolutely everything along the way- but God, He is the One who will remain. 

I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.  Revelation 22:13

And though my world has been turned upside down, He will never change.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

I swallowed hard.  I heard Him. 

And so, I walk on.  I shake the hand of the doctor I've only met twice whose care I am now under as we walk through what could very well be my sweet daughter's last days, I program his number in place of my OB's into my cell in case I go into labor, and I take courage because He who doesn't change is walking with me, and if He is all I know, He is enough.

As I walked through the door and into my husband's strong, understanding arms, it was not lost on me that not everything has been stripped from me.  It is not lost on me that I am richly blessed in this season of suffering- my husband, my son, my family, my friends, my church- all is not lost. 

But in what is lost?  I will find Him there.  We can find Him in the midst of the deepest of loss, the darkest seasons, the deepest bending, because God is faithful, He is with us always, and He is the ONE thing that does not change like shifting shadows.

So I bend, leaving the pieces behind, and I do what He's asked me to do: I trust.  Trust that He is faithful.  Trust that He is with us always.  Trust that He will not change.  And trust that today is all we need to worry about-  Trust that tomorrow has enough worry of its own, and that today, all we need to do is soak up time with our girl.  

As we pass the 6 month mark with our sweet Jubilee, I'm overjoyed realizing what a miracle the time we have had with her thus far has been.  At 6 weeks in, the doctors thought we were losing her.  For 6 months now I've carried her, and she's been a beautiful little piece of our family.  I'm also overwhelmed when realizing that we're working towards the last stretch of this pregnancy.  Our days with her may be numbered, and as I take in that we're already 6 months into this, it feels like our time with her is slipping between my fingers.  So as we bend, we're taking hold.  We're wrapping joy around every day we have and living today to the full. 

(The Hubs gave that bracelet to me for Christmas this year- after we struggled through the first portion of our pregnancy with Jubilee, but long before we knew where this road would lead.  "Make every day count"...coincidence?  I think not.)

Tomorrow morning we're meeting with a neonatologist. Its going to be another tough day.  We're going to bend.  More. We'll have some really hard conversations about what may happen to Jubilee when she is born and what options we'll have.  The few conversations we've already had about this have been complex and overwhelming.  Tomorrow is the day we talk to our girl's doctor and start making some big decisions.  Prayers for peace, clarity, and discernment would be so, so appreciated.  The decisions we're going to have to make are bigger than us.  As parents, its nearly impossible to make the decision to ask that the doctors do not help your newborn daughter breathe.  How does one do that? It's just so far beyond us.  So far beyond what God ever intended this life to entail. So we're expecting the Holy Spirit to just make it very, very clear what He would have us do. We are desperate for wisdom and discernment.  Thank you, friends, ahead of time, because I know that many of you will pray and are, even as I write this.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I told God yesterday that if He was going to take away the last little bit of familiarity I had in the medical department, if He was going to allow us to bend this far, He was going to have to SHOW UP because there was now positively no way I could take another step without Him.

And you know what?  He has.  Already.  Because I should have broken by now.  I'm bending, there's no doubt, but I haven't broken. With the things we have on our plate, I should have broken by now.  But the glory of God is, His love endures forever, and He won't let me break.

Because God? God shows up when we need Him.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

Praying you have the eyes to see Him show up when you need Him.  We may bend, friends, but if our hope is in the Lord, we won't break.