A Miracle Boy and Hope in Hard Times

It's been awhile since I last wrote. I've been asking the Lord, "What's next?" While waiting for an answer, He’s been working on my heart—shining light on some fears, healing some wounds—so that I'm now ready to share the last bit of Nate's story in a nutshell. Here we go...

Between the 19th to 22nd week of pregnancy, the doctors pressured us to abort our son with callous indifference two or three more times, believing there was no way he could survive his severe diagnosis of Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, but after our persistent refusals, they offered us what they considered the next best option—palliation, or letting him die at birth without treatment. Once again, we had to stand our ground and insist that they do their best to save our child’s life. Finally, they agreed. The first battle for our son’s life had been won—he would be given a fighting chance of survival.

The NICU team began to make preparations for his birth and the doctors scheduled the date for my induction: Monday, March 20 at exactly 38 weeks, no more, no less.

The induction and natural delivery of the babies went exactly as planned, complication-free. Nathaniel was immediately intubated after birth and was then outfitted with a total of nine different lines and tubes, a process which took upwards of an hour. And so began our son’s struggle for survival outside of the womb, the beginning of the second battle for his life.

Over the course of the next 10 weeks, God worked miracle after miracle through the prayers of hundreds of believers, as Nathaniel went from total dependence upon breathing machines and IV lines for sustenance, to breathing completely on his own and bottle feeding. Praise the Lord! Against all odds, Nathaniel came home to us, never again requiring any breathing support and growing steadily until he caught up with Emma in weight and gross motor development by 14 months of age. We have never stopped nor will we ever stop giving all the glory and praise to God for saving our precious son.

But this is not the end of my story. I wish it was. I wish I could tell you that after Nathaniel was discharged, we rode off into the sunset, free of worry, hardship and pain forevermore. But that was not the case. As life carried on, the hard times did too, one after the other with a suffocating rapidity that left me gasping for air wondering how I could ever survive. Exhaustion, anxiety, cancer, fear, rejection, despair, trauma, loneliness, turmoil—four years of barely keeping my head above the water.

As the Lord leads whether now or sometime in the future, I would like to write about this part my story while pondering these questions: Is there hope when all hope seems lost? And, is God with me in the hard times? I ask these questions not as an expert of theology or psychology or medicine, but as someone who has lived through times, someone who loves her Father in heaven and knows that He loves her with an everlasting love both despite and through suffering.

Today Nathaniel and Emma are six years old, and though I continue on a journey of healing, the Lord has been faithful to me. He has brought me through the stormy waters and He did not let me drown. My prayer is that you, like I, will find hope, healing and encouragement in Jesus.

Psalm 126:

When the LORD brought back the captives to Zion,

we were like men who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter,

our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations,

"The LORD has done great things for them."

The LORD has done great things for us,

and we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, O LORD,

like streams in the Negev.

Those who sow in tears

will reap with songs of joy.

He who goes out weeping,

carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy,

carrying sheaves with him.