"There are many things wrong with your baby." Today we learned that our baby isn’t expected to live. As you can see on the ultrasound, our anatomy scan showed an omphalocele. About 50% of the time, an omphalocele is present with no other issues, meaning it can be surgically corrected immediately after birth. However, 50% of the time, the omphalocele is just a signal to a greater genetic issue. We were referred to a high risk pregnancy physician to determine if our baby’s omphalocele was isolated or connected to other genetic defects.
Today we received the news that makes our hearts ache. We learned that our baby’s liver, intestines, stomach, and gallbladder were located in the omphalocele, which means they are growing in a sac outside of the body. We also learned that our baby’s heart, brain, arms, legs, facial bones, and genitalia are not developing normally. All of this yields a genetic disorder. We have decided to pursue further genetic testing to learn exactly what our baby is facing. It isn’t expected that our baby will live, but we serve a miracle providing God and we are in full submission to His plan. Today we received facts, but we are looking at the facts with hearts full of faith. He’s the God of miracles! Why am I sharing this? Because God is after His glory. It’s easy to say that God is good when a miracle happens. But are we willing to believe He’s good during the valley? I am. I believe He’s closer to me right now than ever before. I believe He’s not offended by my raw emotions and selfish questions. I believe He is always good. Continue to pray for us and with us. I’m not sure what this season of life is going to look like these next few months. But I do know that this baby will be fiercely loved and prayed for. And I know death is never the answer because Jesus already has the victory! We’re believing for miraculous healing. Lord, have your way. “God, your way is holy. What god is great like God? You are the God who works wonders.” Psalm 77:13-14
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I've had this fear of posting our baby story because it's so normal. It seems like it's always the sad stories that are told. The ones that are full of difficulty followed by triumph. The ones that have you rooting for a victory. And, y'all, I love those stories because Jesus is always victorious and His name is made known. But I've been listening to the enemy tell me that because my story is normal, it isn't worth being told. And today I'm choosing not to listen to that lie anymore. Because I know there are mamas who can relate to my story. This story of complete normalcy in the world of pregnancy and childbirth. So here's our baby story...
Being a mama was my greatest desire and infertility was my greatest fear. When Matt and I decided to start our family, I experienced great anxiety. Ever since I had the desire to be a mama, the enemy immediately planted that seed of fear. That thought of “what if you’re the one that can’t”. Our first month, we had a positive pregnancy test. I was overwhelmed. Completely undone that the Lord would give me this gift. This gift of motherhood. I don’t really remember the day I found out, but I do remember the feelings of overwhelming joy and the inability to understand the miracle of life and this plan the Lord had unfolding before me. It was only 7 days later that this gift was taken. It was exactly one week later that we found out it had been a chemical pregnancy. Well, it may have been “just” a chemical pregnancy to the nurses I spoke with, but a baby had been birthed in my heart. And oh did I grieve. I grieved the words that I read on the screens. The ones that told me there was no life in the first place. The ones that told me it was normal. I grieved the loss of this hope. I walked through the next few weeks, opening up about our heartache and reignited fear to some when it felt appropriate. And I really struggled with this part. I struggled with the prayers that were sincere and purposeful yet fell so far from the pain and heartache I was experiencing. I struggled with feeling misunderstood and feeling like I was somehow feeling too much. I felt like the people around me had difficulty relating and that my heartache was minimized. I struggled with the fact that it was “just” a chemical pregnancy, but I somehow felt like my child had been taken from me. The enemy was so quick to steal my joy. To make me doubt my Maker. To bring back my fears and uncertainties of the future and my family. To make me feel unworthy or uncalled. And while this journey of waiting didn’t last long, I learned so much. Our third month of praying for a baby to fill my womb, it happened. There was life. There was a baby. And there it was again. Hope. While I’d love to proclaim that the next seasons of pregnancy were filled with only hope and joy and expectancy, I’d be lying. Fear continued to creep in. Joy and hope were there, but fear was an unwelcomed friend during my pregnancy journey. For so many reasons, fear had no right in my heart. Because I and my child and my family and my future. Well, they all belonged to Christ. And fear, the biggest liar of all, had no place in my heart. Because regardless of my fears, whether real or imagined, Christ was still on the throne. He had complete control over our future days. Somewhere amongst those 37 weeks that I carried Mills, he began to write that truth on my heart. So here I am again. 15 weeks pregnant with our second child. A child that was given to us on our second month of praying and waiting. And wouldn’t you know that fear was ready. The enemy was ready to bring back every doubt and question and uncertainty that I had experienced while carrying Mills. I’m walking these days clinging to the truths that Christ began writing on my heart while I carried Mills. The promises that there is purpose in all of this. The promise that he came to bring life to the full. The hope that this child will fill our arms and home in a few months. The hope that infertility and loss won’t be my story. The hope that health and wholeness will be our reality all the days of their life. Because for years, I feared it. And it’s crazy. That in the midst of so much LIFE, that the enemy would still whisper these lies to my heart. But it’s true. And though these feelings are real, God’s power over them is even more real. His authority over the enemy and his lies are what sustain me each day I carry this child. Each day that I raise Mills and pray for his protection. Because fear is a liar. And I can allow it to control me, or I can take these voices and feelings of fear and hand them to my Father. And so I do. Every single day. It is difficult for me to share our journey. To share our story. Because I fear the eye rolls. I fear the judgement. I fear that sharing the emotions of my pregnancy journey would be a disgrace to the mamas who have or who are currently walking a long season of waiting. I fear that my journey would be painful to their hearts. I don’t know your story, but I know mine. It’s been two years since Matt and I decided to start a family. Two years ago, had the Lord told me all that was in store, I would have missed out on his presence. Had I known all that I know now, I wouldn’t have been as desperate for Him. I wouldn’t have drawn so near to the Father’s heart. I wouldn’t have cried all of those tears at his alter or worshipped him with such abandonment and desperation. My fears brought me to a place of complete dependence on my Maker. So friends, that’s our story. And I don't want to feel ashamed to share it. To feel like it’s unworthy of being told. Because I just know that there are other mamas who can say “me too”. Who understand the joy of carrying life, but also feel the overwhelming anxiety of this responsibility and the fear of the what-ifs. The mamas who have walked through seasons of uncertainty and fear and total dependence on the Father to show up. And the mamas who feel like their story is unworthy of being told. Because my prayer is that my journey of joy and fear and life would be a testament to the Lord’s unwavering love for his children. A testament to His plan’s and purposes that are always good. Even when we can’t see it yet. Well here we are. Three weeks later, with a different story to tell. I mentioned earlier that I originally had fear in posting these words, so I didn't. But that fear is gone. Because all stories need to be told. Because I can relate to the mama who is struggling with being happy when so many around her are grieving and struggling. And all moms need someone who can say "me too". So even though these words are no longer my story, I see you. And now... oh how my heart aches for the normalcy I was ashamed to talk about. We don't have all the answers. The future is uncertain. But fear is still a liar and God is still on the throne. We will be seeing a high risk pregnancy physician next week. We are praying for complete healing and health over our baby and would love for you to join us. We truly covet your prayers. Because God is after His Glory and we're praising Him in advanced for His perfect plan. Currently, the ability to take a nap would be the best luxury I can even imagine. If you bring me a BLT, I’ll be your best friend. And if you need someone to talk to in the middle of the night, I’m probably awake because pregnancy insomnia is the real deal over here. Mostly, I’m just feeling so humbled to have the privilege to carry this child. We’ll find out gender in 2 weeks, and I’m so eager to know if Mills is getting a little brother or a baby sister! We’re already all kinds of smitten with you, little one!
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