Friday, February 5, 2010


I was reading Psalm 139 earlier on today, and was reminded once again that God has our daughter in his hands. The whole Psalm seemed to resonate with me, but especially verses 12-16:

12 even the darkness is not dark to you;

the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

13For you formed my inward parts;
knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15My frame was not hidden from you,when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in
the depths of the earth.
16Your eyes saw my unformed substance;in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

I woke up tonight thinking about our little one, and I realized how much I've grown to love her over the course of this pregnancy. In the beginning, it was really hard to attach myself to her because of all of the bleeding I had done. At around 11 weeks I had significant bleeding and though that we were losing her. I went in to the doctor, who did an ultrasound and found a little peanut flailing her arms and legs and moving all around. I was shocked that she was still with us, but also surprised at how active she already was. A week later we had another episode of even more bleeding. Another ultrasound revealed a spunky little kiddo moving all around as if to reassure me that she was okay. Even then I began to connect with her someone, but I also tried to guard my heart, knowing that we could lose her and how hard it would be to grieve the loss of a child. We had another ultrasound around then with the perinatologist, and I remember leaving the appointment feeling wiped out from seeing her again. Again, she was moving all around and being spunky. They had found the reason for the bleeding, and it looked as though she was going to be fine, and I think that it took me a bit to realize that we may actually get to meet our baby this side of Heaven.

I don't think that it was until around the 16 week ultrasound that I let my guard down, and let my heart fully embrace our little one. We found out that we were having a girl, which shocked us. We found out that as of then the placenta was completely over my cervix, and while it could move, if it didn't I'd have to have a c-section. And we found out that our little spitfire had a two vessel cord. At the time everything had looked alright with her kidneys and heart, and we were okayed to go on our trip as long as I continued to take it easy. I knew we could deal with a c-section, although bummed about having to have surgery. I knew that we'd have to keep praying for protection for our kiddo with her funky cord, but all of that seemed within the realm of "okay", and that we could deal with it. We had a wonderful time in Hawai'i visiting Ryan's brother and his family, and came home very rested and refreshed. I know now, that was part of God's grace on us to have a time of refueling and respite before the storm that was to come.

Last Friday we had another ultrasound with the perinatologist to check on her heart and kidneys (because of her two vessel cord). Again I saw our spunky daughter, and I realized how "connected" with her I was. The perinatologist needed to get a good look at her heart, and she'd move into just the spot for him to see, and then flip her arm in front of her chest. Then he'd move around, get another angle, be about ready to start his measurements, etc, and she move her arm again. Finally, after it happened a number of times, he looked at my belly and said, "it's okay little one, I'm patient". Finally, she threw her arms up in defeat, just as if she'd heard him. Now, I understand that she didn't hear him, and that she didn't understand what he had said. But at the same time, I think it was God revealing her personality to me even more. Not only is our daughter full of energy, but she's a good-natured fighter too. I was reminded tonight of how many times I'd been injured or sick, and had not wanted to tell my parents because I knew I'd be okay, and didn't want them to worry. It was as if in that moment, our little one was doing the same thing. Covering up her chest, to try and protect us from the heartache that was going to come. I know it's a lot to read into an ultrasound. I understand that with my head, but I also know that as hard as these ultrasounds have been (since they find something new EVERY time), they've also been a wonderful blessing for us to get to know our daughter.

On Monday, when the scan started and her heartbeat was in the 60's for what seemed like an eternity, I realized how much I love our daughter. My heart aches to hold her, and sing over her, and let her know how proud of her I am already and how much joy she has given me just simply by being the girl God has created her to be. I love her personality. I love her spunkiness. And I love her heart. I remember a sermon series from a long time ago called, "God don't make junk". And he doesn't. Our daughter's heart wasn't hidden from God when she "was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth". My prayer and hope is that God would do a creative miracle in her heart and make it whole. That all of it's parts would form as they should, beat as they should, work as they should. And that's what we're praying for. God can do it, and as much love as Ryan and I have for our daughter, he knows her and loves her so much more. He's her creator, her savior, her Father and her strength, and He's got a plan. In his book were written all of her days before one of them came to pass. My prayer is that there would be many days and years for her written in His book. That he'd sustain her with a long and healthy life. And just as we pray for Melodie every night that she'd know Him all the days of her life, and that she'd make Him known to everyone she meets.

I love you little one. Keep growing. Be safe. Get strong. You've got people praying for you from Milwaukee to India. You're loved. You're wanted. And you're a blessing.

No comments: