A 25% chance of survival with treatment. A 0% chance without. A long litany of health complications should he survive.
You might want to consider having a reduction, the doctor had said. But the procedure will have to be done soon, before 22 weeks.
No discussion of treatment options. No words of hope. No success stories of those who had gone before and survived.
Nothing. Nothing but a hopeless diagnosis and an offer of death.
Mauricio and I left that appointment in a shocked stupor. Numb. Confused. What just happened? I thought as we walked back to the car. Is this really my life or just a horridly bad nightmare?
But it was happening. It was real. The stark reality that my baby boy might die. My baby might die! I couldn't hold back the tears. My mind jumped to the worst case scenario—he was going to die. And my heart broke into a thousand shards of red glass.
In the days that followed, the fingers of fear gripped those fragments of broken heart and entwined themselves in my shellshocked mind. I was its prisoner.
Despite the fear, one thing was certain: We would not even entertain the idea of an abortion. Our preborn son's life was just as valuable and precious as his twin sister's. Together they were being woven together in my womb, each beautifully and wonderfully made, fully known and fully loved by God, their Creator (Psalm 139:13-14). There was no doubt in our minds that he would be born, and we would love him for as long as the Lord gave breath to his lungs.
In the fear, I turned to the only place I knew to turn. To God; to His Word; to prayer. I read His promises and I clung to them. Promises like Joshua 1:9, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go,” and Proverbs 3:5-6, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”
By God's grace, the fear began to subside. Like this picture by Kevin Carden, the Holy Spirit began to blow the fear away as I realized that God was with me in this ordeal, that He would never leave me nor forsake me, that I could trust in Him to strengthen me and carry me through whatever came my way.
And in its place came peace—the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, began to guard my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7).
This indescribable peace of God carried me through the remaining months of pregnancy. I can say in all honesty that I wasn't afraid. I knew my son might die, but I also knew that God was fully capable of saving him if that was His will. Knowing that I didn't have to decide his fate was freeing. All I had to do was put my faith in the God who created the universe, do the things in my power to give my son the best chance of survival, and trust God with the rest.
With God by our side, Mauricio and I moved forward filled with His confidence. This wasn't the end of the fight for our son's life. But we knew the truth. We were not alone. God was with us and He wouldn't leave.
And He's with you too even if you don't feel Him there.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you,” (Deut. 31:6).
Stay tuned for next week's blog as I continue retelling and contemplating my prenatal diagnosis during the anniversary month of November. Better yet, subscribe so you never miss out.
Have a comment? Have a prayer request? I'd love to hear from you, so please reach out.
Warmly,
Christin
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