We had a doctor appointment Monday that left me feeling optimistic. Dr. S. insisted that he didn’t want to build up false hope, but yes, Nora is measuring right on target. But for her heart condition (tetralogy of Fallot w/ VSD), and the official diagnosis of T18, she appears otherwise healthy. He did also mention that in his 20 years of practice, he has only delivered five or six T18 babies to term. Honestly, he doesn’t have a ton of experience with them. This is so rare and when it does happen, most people elect to end the pregnancy. I am ever so thankful for his optimism and also his honesty. I would much rather be given some sort of HOPE than have Nora written off as a lost cause.
I am so grateful for the optimism, yet my own emotions are experiencing a great divergence from day to day. I continue with all of my best efforts to stay focused on the present, and to allow God to take control of this, but there are days when the fear and doubt come slithering in. There are the days that I have completely accepted that Nora is exactly who God made her to be, and then the days that I mourn the loss of who I thought she was going to be. Some days I imagine what it would be like to bring her home, others I’m tormented by the likelihood of planning for an infant’s funeral. I can’t think of a time in my life where I’ve felt such a loss of control. Yes, it is frightening, but ultimately it is where I need to be in order to let God take over.
I am the blind folded passenger in a car and have no idea where we are going. If I were driving, surely we would crash as I can’t see a thing. If I didn’t know and trust God as I do, I would be terrified and plotting my escape. Instead, I imagine God is sitting right next to me, a gentle smile on His lips, one hand on the wheel, humming to a song on the radio. He’s certainly not worried or anxious because He knows where He’s taking me. He is so excited to take the blind fold off when we get there. In the mean time, I still have my sense of hearing. I can enjoy the song on the radio. I still have my sense of smell and touch. I can breathe in the crisp breeze that blows on my face through the open windows. I can sit back and relax as God leans over to tell me with His unerring wisdom, “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV) With my hands clasped firmly around my round belly, I can’t help but smile at this news from beneath my blind fold.