Check out my latest blog on the damaging effects of DISAPPOINTMENT and the reconstructive work of God in the midst of it all! If you haven't read the first 3 parts...now's your chance! Enter my life...it's not always pretty but it's ALL been redeemed! Leave a comment or share a story of your own.
www.freeingf8th.blogspot.com
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Sprucing up the vision for my blog and hoping to encourage you with my new series on Faith Captors where I expose my own struggles, and how, by faith, I fight them daily!
Check it out at Freeing F8th!
www.freeingf8th.blogspot.com
Check it out at Freeing F8th!
www.freeingf8th.blogspot.com
Friday, August 10, 2012
Guest Contributor: Unveiled Wife
Hey Friends! Check out my recent article, When Christ is Your Only Common Ground on Unveiled Wife.com
Sunday, June 24, 2012
I am My Beloved's and My Beloved is Mine...
He was the first person I saw when I got off the old, creaky bus in Istanbul. I was captivated. His blonde hair fell just above his calm, blue eyes and he stood, tall, with an air of confidence that I found reassuring. I forced myself to turn away. I couldn't allow myself to develop an infatuation this early in the game. I had just begun my commitment to Operation Mobilization and I was about to board a ship that would sail me around the globe for the next 2 years. The world was literally at my feet waiting to be discovered. Mystery was in the air and I had a God given calling to fulfill. No need to get sidetracked by a handsome face.
Nervously, I entered the training center at "Hotel Family" and found my way to the conference room where all the new recruits would be meeting for 2 weeks of pre-ship training. I found the chair with my name tag on it and sat down. I looked around, mesmerized by all the different people surrounding me. There were Koreans, Germans, Indians, Papa New Guineans, South Africans...25 nations together in one room; together for the next 2 years. As people started to congregate together, I noticed at least 20 South Africans. It seemed like they all knew each other already. They were so loud; laughing and joking and making a scene. Frankly, they were getting on my nerves. Why did they have to be so loud? I noticed that he was one of them. Another reason to stay away.
On our first night at the venue, the leaders organized a social hour. It was time to get to know people a little better. I was standing by the drink table getting a coffee when he approached me. My mouth dried up and my tongue stiffened. No words would come out. Fortunately, that didn't matter. He did all the talking... and talking...and talking. When he was finished explaining the world to me, he walked away without ever having asked my name. It was apparent that he had no interest in who I was. It was just as well. There was no way I wanted to get involved with a "talker." No. I definitely needed a "listener."
After two weeks of classroom lectures and water safety training, we loaded the busses and headed to the ship. At first sight, the "Doulos" seemed too small to be home to 300 people. It looked like an over sized, dilapidated yacht. I wondered how it even stayed afloat in rough seas. That was when I realized that he and I would be in close quarters for the next 24 months. I would have to keep busy and stay focused. Once we boarded, the chaos of ship's life took over my world. Breakfast at 7, devotions at 8, work at 9, dinner at 5, community events in the evenings and curfew at 11 (if you could manage to stay up that late). We only had 1 day off per week for sight-seeing or rest. All of my time was accounted for. It was a good thing.
Despite my busy schedule, I saw him and thought of him constantly. Our direct interaction was very limited though. I couldn't understand how this stranger had gotten into my head.Was I caught up in his appearance? Nothing else made sense. I didn't know much about him. I felt like a high school girl with a crush on the captain of the football team only I wasn't in high school and he didn't play football. He wasn't even my age. I was more than three years older than him. We couldn't possibly have anything in common. We grew up in different hemispheres and English wasn't his first language. Would he even be able to understand me if I spoke to him? I had to refocus. I prayed and prayed that God would help me to turn my attention solely to ship's life. I was there to work and be involved in ministry not to get lost in a fantasy world with someone who didn't know I existed.
Three months passed and nothing changed. One day in Mid-November while I was in the Galley helping prepare lunch for the ship's company, I began earnestly asking the Lord why I couldn't get victory over my obsession with this stranger. That day God finally answered my prayer. The Lord's voice resonated in my heart, "Jennifer, he will be your husband one day. Stop praying against it and start praying for it." I stood still; shocked by this unmistakeable answer to my prayer. What Lord? Did I hear you correctly? He is going to be my what? Wait a minute Lord...I don't even know him and he doesn't even care to know me! In fact, I don't even like him! He's annoying and talks too much! His doctrine is off! He's a South African! And my objections went on.
I retreated to my cabin and got on my knees in prayer. I asked the Lord to confirm, through His word, what he had spoken into my heart. I opened up my Bible and began reading. Habbakuk 2:3 jumped off the page. Little did I know that this verse would become the bastion I would hold onto during many times of doubt over the next year:
"For the vision is yet for the appointed time. It hastens toward the goal and will not fail. Though it tarries, wait for it; it will certainly come, it will not delay."
I began crying. Confounded, I asked the Lord for another confirmation. As if to put my doubt in its proper place, God led me to Isaiah 37:26:
"Have you not heard? Long ago I ordained it; from ancient times I planned it and now I have brought it to pass."
There! It was sealed. I needed to accept it in faith. That day, in my cabin, I decided to believe. Wouter would be my husband and, one day, our shallow exchanges would turn into a deep, profound bond.
When I returned to work I chose to wash the dishes; a mindless task that would allow me time to think. Since romantic relationships were prohibited during our first year on board, there wasn't much else I could do. I had 9 months to go before my first year was over. Here I sat with this major revelation and could do nothing with it. I couldn't tell him about it. He would think I was delirious. I didn't have a close enough friend to confide in yet either so I decided to quietly cherish my new little secret.
The next time I saw him, I was working behind the food line during the ship's lunch hour. I was busily refilling trays of food when I looked up and saw him standing right in front of me. I expected to feel something new toward him; to look right past those blue eyes directly into his soul and create a connection. No words necessary. Then, we would secretly fall in love and wait patiently for our first year on board to end and rejoice when we could finally sail off into the sunset together. Instead, when I looked into his eyes, he asked me to go get him a banana. Surprisingly, he didn't ask nicely or choose gentle words as though he was talking to his beautiful future beloved. Actually, he didn't even say "please." I brought him the only banana I could find and when I handed it to him, he shoved it back over the counter and said, "I can't eat that. It's not even ripe!" He didn't say, "Thank you," or "I love you." He just walked away. This impersonal abrupt exchange left me angry, hurt and confused...all over a green banana.
I endured many, many more months of similar encounters with my future "husband" and with every run-in, I found myself liking him less and doubting the Lord more. Did God really tell me what I thought he told me? My faith was being tested. Will I believe my circumstances or will I believe the Lord? The battlefield in my mind became a war-zone of doubt. Not only was Wouter consistently cold towards me, but I heard through a friend, that he was interested in someone else. Clearly the Lord had not let Wouter in on our little secret. My heart was breaking. I had to do something. I wanted to talk to him; to tell him everything that I knew about our future and ask him to stop looking past me. Or maybe I should just forget him and move on. Maybe this whole thing was something I conjured up in my vulnerable little mind. After all, I was far away from home, I didn't know anyone onboard. Maybe this fantasy offered me some sense of security, and it was just an illusion of a deep connection. Once again I was confused. I retreated to my cabin for some alone time. I needed wisdom before I made any big mistakes. Thankfully, the Lord gave me insight. He used Exodus 14:14 to remind me that He was the author of this story; not me:
"The Lord will fight for you; You need only be still."
And I remained silent.
After that, a huge burden had been lifted. I no longer felt pressure to build a bridge between us or establish a connection with him. Instead, I relinquished everything into the Lord's hands. I felt so confident God would work things out in His timing that I no longer cared how Wouter behaved toward me. I wasn't even worried about him dating someone else. I knew the Lord would fight for me and, well...He always wins.
In the weeks that followed, by God's grace, I began seeing things in Wouter that I admired. He was a deeply passionate person; someone others trusted and confided in. My affections were growing and I was falling in love. It was a miracle.
After many long months, the waiting was starting to wear me down and I longed to see God's promise fulfilled. One afternoon when I was feeling particularly discouraged and impatient, I saw a poster hanging up near my cabin door. It was a picture of a beautiful landscape ripe with flowers glistening from the rain. Under the picture was a verse from the book of Isaiah: "The parched ground shall become a pool and the thirsty land, springs of water."
I knew our time was coming.
On the afternoon of my one year anniversary Wouter approached me outside on the ship's deck. I was caught off guard. He asked me to meet him in the dining room later that night. I nonchalantly agreed though inside every muscle in my body was clenched and my heart was racing. Was this going to be the conversation I had been waiting for all year? I wouldn't allow myself to hope.
At 8 p.m., I finished work in the Galley and was sitting at the staff table with my co-workers. Wouter walked in and joined us. Gradually everyone left and it was just him and I. It was awkward. Silence lingered and created an uneasy tension. 5 minutes passed; no words were spoken. What in the world was going on here? Don't waste my time Wouter! I've been tortured enough, say what you want to say or I'm out of here, I thought. Just as I was about to get up, he started talking.
"Jennifer, this past year has been a huge struggle for me and I don't know what you think about it, but I'm going to personnel to ask for permission to get to know you better. I want you to know, though, that I'm not interested in dating or just having a 'girlfriend,' if you are not willing to get married to me eventually, then we can't go forward. Please go think about it. Take your time and really pray about whether or not this is what you want."
Umm...Did I just get a marriage proposal?
I do! I mean, I did. Wouter Roos, in many ways a total stranger to me, just told me that he wanted to marry me in a kind of indirect way! I was dumbstruck. Most girls would have left the table at that point. But...I wasn't "most girls" and for the last year, God had been preparing me for a conversation like this one. I wasn't surprised by his approach. I was thankful for it. To me, it was the long-awaited fulfillment of a promise God gave me a year ago. Faith finally met sight and I was overwhelmed, not by how wonderful Wouter was, but by how amazing God was. Somehow it wasn't about us. It was about Him.
Finally, in late September of 2004, when the ship was in St Nazair, France, we had our first date. We left the ship hand in hand and walked to a little beach. We sat by the shore and shared story after story about the struggles we both faced over the past months. Most of all we celebrated the fact that we knew, beyond any doubt, that we were meant to be together. With that kind of security we could withstand our differences; big or small. We were committed to each other based on a calling...not a whim.
As we sat by the shore on that warm, clear evening we toasted to our future. I hoped for a soft kiss under the sinking sun. I trembled in anticipation.
Wouter looked into my eyes, "Do you want to know when you'll get your first kiss?" he asked.
Now please. And make it quick! I've been waiting a long time for this, buddy!
I maintained my composure.
"Yes." I said softly.
He whispered, "On our wedding day."
*Happy 6th Wedding Anniversary to the man who made me wait for him! I love you!
Nervously, I entered the training center at "Hotel Family" and found my way to the conference room where all the new recruits would be meeting for 2 weeks of pre-ship training. I found the chair with my name tag on it and sat down. I looked around, mesmerized by all the different people surrounding me. There were Koreans, Germans, Indians, Papa New Guineans, South Africans...25 nations together in one room; together for the next 2 years. As people started to congregate together, I noticed at least 20 South Africans. It seemed like they all knew each other already. They were so loud; laughing and joking and making a scene. Frankly, they were getting on my nerves. Why did they have to be so loud? I noticed that he was one of them. Another reason to stay away.
On our first night at the venue, the leaders organized a social hour. It was time to get to know people a little better. I was standing by the drink table getting a coffee when he approached me. My mouth dried up and my tongue stiffened. No words would come out. Fortunately, that didn't matter. He did all the talking... and talking...and talking. When he was finished explaining the world to me, he walked away without ever having asked my name. It was apparent that he had no interest in who I was. It was just as well. There was no way I wanted to get involved with a "talker." No. I definitely needed a "listener."
After two weeks of classroom lectures and water safety training, we loaded the busses and headed to the ship. At first sight, the "Doulos" seemed too small to be home to 300 people. It looked like an over sized, dilapidated yacht. I wondered how it even stayed afloat in rough seas. That was when I realized that he and I would be in close quarters for the next 24 months. I would have to keep busy and stay focused. Once we boarded, the chaos of ship's life took over my world. Breakfast at 7, devotions at 8, work at 9, dinner at 5, community events in the evenings and curfew at 11 (if you could manage to stay up that late). We only had 1 day off per week for sight-seeing or rest. All of my time was accounted for. It was a good thing.
Despite my busy schedule, I saw him and thought of him constantly. Our direct interaction was very limited though. I couldn't understand how this stranger had gotten into my head.Was I caught up in his appearance? Nothing else made sense. I didn't know much about him. I felt like a high school girl with a crush on the captain of the football team only I wasn't in high school and he didn't play football. He wasn't even my age. I was more than three years older than him. We couldn't possibly have anything in common. We grew up in different hemispheres and English wasn't his first language. Would he even be able to understand me if I spoke to him? I had to refocus. I prayed and prayed that God would help me to turn my attention solely to ship's life. I was there to work and be involved in ministry not to get lost in a fantasy world with someone who didn't know I existed.
Three months passed and nothing changed. One day in Mid-November while I was in the Galley helping prepare lunch for the ship's company, I began earnestly asking the Lord why I couldn't get victory over my obsession with this stranger. That day God finally answered my prayer. The Lord's voice resonated in my heart, "Jennifer, he will be your husband one day. Stop praying against it and start praying for it." I stood still; shocked by this unmistakeable answer to my prayer. What Lord? Did I hear you correctly? He is going to be my what? Wait a minute Lord...I don't even know him and he doesn't even care to know me! In fact, I don't even like him! He's annoying and talks too much! His doctrine is off! He's a South African! And my objections went on.
I retreated to my cabin and got on my knees in prayer. I asked the Lord to confirm, through His word, what he had spoken into my heart. I opened up my Bible and began reading. Habbakuk 2:3 jumped off the page. Little did I know that this verse would become the bastion I would hold onto during many times of doubt over the next year:
"For the vision is yet for the appointed time. It hastens toward the goal and will not fail. Though it tarries, wait for it; it will certainly come, it will not delay."
I began crying. Confounded, I asked the Lord for another confirmation. As if to put my doubt in its proper place, God led me to Isaiah 37:26:
"Have you not heard? Long ago I ordained it; from ancient times I planned it and now I have brought it to pass."
There! It was sealed. I needed to accept it in faith. That day, in my cabin, I decided to believe. Wouter would be my husband and, one day, our shallow exchanges would turn into a deep, profound bond.
When I returned to work I chose to wash the dishes; a mindless task that would allow me time to think. Since romantic relationships were prohibited during our first year on board, there wasn't much else I could do. I had 9 months to go before my first year was over. Here I sat with this major revelation and could do nothing with it. I couldn't tell him about it. He would think I was delirious. I didn't have a close enough friend to confide in yet either so I decided to quietly cherish my new little secret.
The next time I saw him, I was working behind the food line during the ship's lunch hour. I was busily refilling trays of food when I looked up and saw him standing right in front of me. I expected to feel something new toward him; to look right past those blue eyes directly into his soul and create a connection. No words necessary. Then, we would secretly fall in love and wait patiently for our first year on board to end and rejoice when we could finally sail off into the sunset together. Instead, when I looked into his eyes, he asked me to go get him a banana. Surprisingly, he didn't ask nicely or choose gentle words as though he was talking to his beautiful future beloved. Actually, he didn't even say "please." I brought him the only banana I could find and when I handed it to him, he shoved it back over the counter and said, "I can't eat that. It's not even ripe!" He didn't say, "Thank you," or "I love you." He just walked away. This impersonal abrupt exchange left me angry, hurt and confused...all over a green banana.
I endured many, many more months of similar encounters with my future "husband" and with every run-in, I found myself liking him less and doubting the Lord more. Did God really tell me what I thought he told me? My faith was being tested. Will I believe my circumstances or will I believe the Lord? The battlefield in my mind became a war-zone of doubt. Not only was Wouter consistently cold towards me, but I heard through a friend, that he was interested in someone else. Clearly the Lord had not let Wouter in on our little secret. My heart was breaking. I had to do something. I wanted to talk to him; to tell him everything that I knew about our future and ask him to stop looking past me. Or maybe I should just forget him and move on. Maybe this whole thing was something I conjured up in my vulnerable little mind. After all, I was far away from home, I didn't know anyone onboard. Maybe this fantasy offered me some sense of security, and it was just an illusion of a deep connection. Once again I was confused. I retreated to my cabin for some alone time. I needed wisdom before I made any big mistakes. Thankfully, the Lord gave me insight. He used Exodus 14:14 to remind me that He was the author of this story; not me:
"The Lord will fight for you; You need only be still."
And I remained silent.
After that, a huge burden had been lifted. I no longer felt pressure to build a bridge between us or establish a connection with him. Instead, I relinquished everything into the Lord's hands. I felt so confident God would work things out in His timing that I no longer cared how Wouter behaved toward me. I wasn't even worried about him dating someone else. I knew the Lord would fight for me and, well...He always wins.
In the weeks that followed, by God's grace, I began seeing things in Wouter that I admired. He was a deeply passionate person; someone others trusted and confided in. My affections were growing and I was falling in love. It was a miracle.
After many long months, the waiting was starting to wear me down and I longed to see God's promise fulfilled. One afternoon when I was feeling particularly discouraged and impatient, I saw a poster hanging up near my cabin door. It was a picture of a beautiful landscape ripe with flowers glistening from the rain. Under the picture was a verse from the book of Isaiah: "The parched ground shall become a pool and the thirsty land, springs of water."
I knew our time was coming.
On the afternoon of my one year anniversary Wouter approached me outside on the ship's deck. I was caught off guard. He asked me to meet him in the dining room later that night. I nonchalantly agreed though inside every muscle in my body was clenched and my heart was racing. Was this going to be the conversation I had been waiting for all year? I wouldn't allow myself to hope.
At 8 p.m., I finished work in the Galley and was sitting at the staff table with my co-workers. Wouter walked in and joined us. Gradually everyone left and it was just him and I. It was awkward. Silence lingered and created an uneasy tension. 5 minutes passed; no words were spoken. What in the world was going on here? Don't waste my time Wouter! I've been tortured enough, say what you want to say or I'm out of here, I thought. Just as I was about to get up, he started talking.
"Jennifer, this past year has been a huge struggle for me and I don't know what you think about it, but I'm going to personnel to ask for permission to get to know you better. I want you to know, though, that I'm not interested in dating or just having a 'girlfriend,' if you are not willing to get married to me eventually, then we can't go forward. Please go think about it. Take your time and really pray about whether or not this is what you want."
Umm...Did I just get a marriage proposal?
I do! I mean, I did. Wouter Roos, in many ways a total stranger to me, just told me that he wanted to marry me in a kind of indirect way! I was dumbstruck. Most girls would have left the table at that point. But...I wasn't "most girls" and for the last year, God had been preparing me for a conversation like this one. I wasn't surprised by his approach. I was thankful for it. To me, it was the long-awaited fulfillment of a promise God gave me a year ago. Faith finally met sight and I was overwhelmed, not by how wonderful Wouter was, but by how amazing God was. Somehow it wasn't about us. It was about Him.
Finally, in late September of 2004, when the ship was in St Nazair, France, we had our first date. We left the ship hand in hand and walked to a little beach. We sat by the shore and shared story after story about the struggles we both faced over the past months. Most of all we celebrated the fact that we knew, beyond any doubt, that we were meant to be together. With that kind of security we could withstand our differences; big or small. We were committed to each other based on a calling...not a whim.
As we sat by the shore on that warm, clear evening we toasted to our future. I hoped for a soft kiss under the sinking sun. I trembled in anticipation.
Wouter looked into my eyes, "Do you want to know when you'll get your first kiss?" he asked.
Now please. And make it quick! I've been waiting a long time for this, buddy!
I maintained my composure.
"Yes." I said softly.
He whispered, "On our wedding day."
*Happy 6th Wedding Anniversary to the man who made me wait for him! I love you!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Truth in Turbulence
I hate flying. I don't know many people who enjoy it. Let's face it...at 30,000 ft. death seems way more likely. As soon as the plane gets onto the runway my anxiety level skyrockets and my prayer life (I shamefully admit) suddenly becomes intense. The only person I know who gets excited to fly is my two year old son and it's only because he's completely clueless about all the things that could go wrong in the air. Unlike mine, his imagination doesn't have the capacity to create thousands of plane crash scenarios and fear is not alive and well in his little soul just yet.
When Makaio sees an airplane at the airport he jumps up and down and screams "Look Dada it's an airplane! Do you see that? I wanna get on it Dada!!" Everyone always stares at him wishing they could share his enthusiasm.
Back in March, we boarded a plane at Midway airport in Chicago and headed for Long Island to visit family. It was a windy, windy day; certainly not ideal flying weather. When the pilots disembarked from the previous incoming flight, I heard them commenting on how difficult it was to land the plane in the gusting wind. My stomach dropped.
When we got onboard, I situated myself near a window and settled Mikayla on my lap. Wouter had Makaio strapped into the seat in between us. I was already sweating. I know how pathetic this must sound. I should just relax, right? Well, I would relax but my experience tells me that bad things can happen in the air and I easily recall many news reports on "flights gone wrong."
We approached the runway and gathered enough speed to begin our ascent. The take-off was bumpy. Climbing to our cruising altitude was like driving on a Chicago Street full of potholes. I always wait for the pilot to turn off the seatbelt sign as an indication of safety but during this flight the light remained illuminated. Instead of reassuring us of our safety, he got on the loudspeaker and told us that the duration of the flight would be turbulent and that we should only get out of our seats if necessary. Great! At least the flight to NY would be short.
After an hour or so, I felt the plane begin to descend and I was relieved. As soon as I exhaled and began to relax, the flight attendant came on the intercom and warned us that the winds in Islip were strong and that our landing was going to be very bumpy. This was followed by an announcement from the captain telling all flight attendants to sit down and buckle up.
It felt like the plane was being blown back and forth as we were approaching the runway.The pilot struggled to steady the wings. My muscles were tense. I had one hand around Mikayla holding her to my chest and the other hand gripping the armrest. A gust of wind would come every few seconds causing the plane to sway and the passengers to gasp.
All the while my little boy was bouncing in his seat trying to get a look out the window and saying, "Whooo dada, dada look, dada this is fun." When He fell silent for a minute or so, I began wondering why. I managed to peel my eyes away from the window and look at him. He had fallen asleep!!! What? How can he sleep at a time like this? If any of you know my son, this is extremely out of character. He is not a fan of sleep and it certainly doesn't come easy to him. But there he was, sitting right beside me sleeping like a baby as the aircraft blew back and forth and his mommy was having a nervous breakdown. Somehow my son was relaxed enough to fall into a deep sleep and he was resting.
As I looked at him in wonder, I felt God whisper to my heart "that is exactly how I want you to be." I instantly understood the Lord's message to me. During life's most turbulent times I want you to be at rest because you trust in me. At that moment I knew that my anxiety was an indication of my lack of trust in the Lord.
Makaio doesn't understand the dangers of flying in an airplane. He just simply trusts his mommy and daddy. That's it. His trust in Wouter and I guards his heart against fear. Jesus calls us all to have this "child-like" faith and tells us that it's a necessity for entering His kingdom. We must simply trust Him the same way Makaio trusts Wouter and I... enough to follow us anywhere.
Now, a few months later, I am still trying to allow this beautiful truth to permeate me and take root in how I live my life. I haven't gotten very far yet and I know it may take a lifetime. But the image of a simple faith untainted by the disappointments of this life drives me forward toward trusting Him with reckless abandon.
And Jesus said: "I tell you the truth, unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3
When Makaio sees an airplane at the airport he jumps up and down and screams "Look Dada it's an airplane! Do you see that? I wanna get on it Dada!!" Everyone always stares at him wishing they could share his enthusiasm.
Back in March, we boarded a plane at Midway airport in Chicago and headed for Long Island to visit family. It was a windy, windy day; certainly not ideal flying weather. When the pilots disembarked from the previous incoming flight, I heard them commenting on how difficult it was to land the plane in the gusting wind. My stomach dropped.
When we got onboard, I situated myself near a window and settled Mikayla on my lap. Wouter had Makaio strapped into the seat in between us. I was already sweating. I know how pathetic this must sound. I should just relax, right? Well, I would relax but my experience tells me that bad things can happen in the air and I easily recall many news reports on "flights gone wrong."
We approached the runway and gathered enough speed to begin our ascent. The take-off was bumpy. Climbing to our cruising altitude was like driving on a Chicago Street full of potholes. I always wait for the pilot to turn off the seatbelt sign as an indication of safety but during this flight the light remained illuminated. Instead of reassuring us of our safety, he got on the loudspeaker and told us that the duration of the flight would be turbulent and that we should only get out of our seats if necessary. Great! At least the flight to NY would be short.
After an hour or so, I felt the plane begin to descend and I was relieved. As soon as I exhaled and began to relax, the flight attendant came on the intercom and warned us that the winds in Islip were strong and that our landing was going to be very bumpy. This was followed by an announcement from the captain telling all flight attendants to sit down and buckle up.
It felt like the plane was being blown back and forth as we were approaching the runway.The pilot struggled to steady the wings. My muscles were tense. I had one hand around Mikayla holding her to my chest and the other hand gripping the armrest. A gust of wind would come every few seconds causing the plane to sway and the passengers to gasp.
All the while my little boy was bouncing in his seat trying to get a look out the window and saying, "Whooo dada, dada look, dada this is fun." When He fell silent for a minute or so, I began wondering why. I managed to peel my eyes away from the window and look at him. He had fallen asleep!!! What? How can he sleep at a time like this? If any of you know my son, this is extremely out of character. He is not a fan of sleep and it certainly doesn't come easy to him. But there he was, sitting right beside me sleeping like a baby as the aircraft blew back and forth and his mommy was having a nervous breakdown. Somehow my son was relaxed enough to fall into a deep sleep and he was resting.
As I looked at him in wonder, I felt God whisper to my heart "that is exactly how I want you to be." I instantly understood the Lord's message to me. During life's most turbulent times I want you to be at rest because you trust in me. At that moment I knew that my anxiety was an indication of my lack of trust in the Lord.
Makaio doesn't understand the dangers of flying in an airplane. He just simply trusts his mommy and daddy. That's it. His trust in Wouter and I guards his heart against fear. Jesus calls us all to have this "child-like" faith and tells us that it's a necessity for entering His kingdom. We must simply trust Him the same way Makaio trusts Wouter and I... enough to follow us anywhere.
Now, a few months later, I am still trying to allow this beautiful truth to permeate me and take root in how I live my life. I haven't gotten very far yet and I know it may take a lifetime. But the image of a simple faith untainted by the disappointments of this life drives me forward toward trusting Him with reckless abandon.
And Jesus said: "I tell you the truth, unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3
Monday, January 23, 2012
When Life Happens
Life at its best is swaddled in hardships. This realization engulfed me as the Intensive Care Doctors whisked my new baby away from me seconds after they lay her on my chest. The next time I saw her, she was covered in tiny wires that tied her up to big machines. Machines are supposed to be for grown people who are sick from old age or bad habits. Not for brand new pink babies who haven't had the chance to cuddle with their mommies and daddies yet. But for our little girl, those wires were vital.
For us, the birthing room wasn't just a celebration party, it was also a race. When baby girl Roos emerged at 8pm on a Monday evening in early December, fifteen doctors and medical staff quickly began evaluating and monitoring her. The first priority was to keep her vital signs stable until her open heart surgery. For Mikayla to survive independently, the anatomy of her walnut sized heart needed to be switched around and stitched into the right places within a few days after birth.
For us, the birthing room wasn't just a celebration party, it was also a race. When baby girl Roos emerged at 8pm on a Monday evening in early December, fifteen doctors and medical staff quickly began evaluating and monitoring her. The first priority was to keep her vital signs stable until her open heart surgery. For Mikayla to survive independently, the anatomy of her walnut sized heart needed to be switched around and stitched into the right places within a few days after birth.
The Arterial Switch procedure, although very complex and fairly new in the treatment of Transposition of the Great Arteries, has proven to be extremely successful. The surgeon performing the procedure was highly skilled and most babies who have this surgery live normal lives. I knew all of this. Yet handing her over to her impending fate broke me. Could my tiny baby survive this trauma so early in life?
Shortly after her birth, I watched as the paramedics prepared her for transfer to another hospital. I stayed behind feeling like a horrible mother. I knew she would be just down the road getting the care she needed yet self condemning thoughts consumed me. How can I let her go and not be there with her? Who will hold her close during her first night in this crazy world? Who will silence her cries and nurse her when she becomes hungry? I wouldn't be rocking her to sleep that night. Instead, she would drift off to beeping machines and humming fluorescent lights. This whole situation was so unnatural. God designed Mommies to nurture their newborns from birth. A mother's drive to protect her baby is so strong that for once in this self indulgent life, self forgetfulness conquers the world. The tension between God's supernatural design and my reality saddened me. I didn't even know when I would be able to hold her again.
Later that night I rested in my hospital room defying the sleepy effect of the pain medicine I had taken earlier. I thought about Mikayla's birth and recounted all I had experienced that day. My husband and I woke early to get to the hospital. I was so sick. A few days earlier I had come down with a brutal sinus infection. My head throbbed as we drove. How would I give birth in this condition? Maybe I would feel better by the time they induced labor. I hoped for a successful delivery since I had a previous emergency c-section. I knew the potential risks of attempting a "v-bac" and I was nervous. I prayed that all would go quickly and complication free. Everything I petitioned the Lord for was answered in the most compassionate way I could imagine.
Early in the day, God impressed on my heart that our baby would come into the world at 8 pm. 8 hours of labor seemed like nothing compared to the marathon labor I experienced having my son. Once labor was induced, time went quickly and with the help of pain medication my contractions were manageable. Just before I began pushing, the nurse put an ice pack on my face and within a few minutes my headache was completely gone. Excitement filled the room at the approaching arrival of our daughter. The Doctors and Nurses were incredibly encouraging as they cheered me on. Mikayla Brielle entered the world at 8:02 pm. They held her up for me to see. I felt deeply satisfied. When they announced her weight, I was shocked: 8 lbs. 9 oz.! I was expecting a much smaller baby. The last ultrasound showed her weighing just over 7 lbs. God graciously hid Mikayla's true weight from me. He knew I would have chosen a c-section. Instead, I had a complication free delivery and my road to recovery was going to be much easier. I felt a sense of pride in the Lord and an assurance that He who had been gracious and compassionate toward me, would also show mercy to my little one.
I look back on December 5th as one of the best days of my life.
Just a few miles away, Mikayla was in her hospital crib stabilized with Prostaglandins. All babies are born with a hole between the upper chambers of their hearts. In a healthy baby, the hole begins to close 24 hours after birth. Babies with Transposition need this hole to remain open for their blood to continue mixing properly and Prostaglandins accomplish this. Surgery was scheduled for Friday morning, only 4 short days after her birth. But the next night, when she was just 24 hours old, the holes in her heart began to close up in spite of the medication and her oxygen level and vital signs became very unstable. Wouter, who was sleeping in her room, was awakened around 2 am by the high volume of medical staff coming in and out. The monitor alarms were sounding: her heart rate was fluctuating between 180 and 215 bpm. Her oxygen level was at 60% and her breathing was in the high 70's. Her blood sugar was low and the Nurses drew blood from her foot every 15 minutes. Mikayla was uncomfortable and sleepless. The x-rays revealed that the small tubes supplying the Prostaglandins to her heart were in too deep. It was too late to readjust them and at 6 am the Doctors asked for our permission to perform a Balloon Septostomy procedure, something we hoped she would not need. Wouter consented and was then asked to leave the room. Mikayla was put on paralysis and given a breathing tube for the procedure. A thin tube was inserted into her main artery and threaded up to her heart. A tiny balloon at the end of that tube was inflated and pulled through the upper chambers. This reopened the hole that had closed. While Wouter was in the waiting room, he called me to tell me what was happening. When my phone rang I wasn't surprised. I had been awake the entire night thinking and praying for both Mikayla and my husband. When he spoke, I knew he was heartbroken. We both were.
When Wouter was permitted to re-enter Mikayla's room, he was relieved to see her in a state of rest. Her vitals were stable and her oxygen level was about 90%. The Cardiologists told us that her surgery would be postponed until early the next week. This would give her body the chance to grow stronger. Although we wanted the surgery behind us, we needed to trust the Doctor's judgement. We were shocked when later that night, the nurse called us and told us that the surgery was moved to the next morning at 7 am. The head surgeon felt that Mikayla was strong enough to do well. At just 2 and half days old, Mikayla underwent her 8 hour open heart surgery.
I don't know much about what happened in the operating room the next day. But I do know that Mikayla's main arteries were switched, her coronary arteries were moved and she was given a chance at life. I thank God every day that He has gifted certain people with the insight, ability and boldness to accomplish such a difficult feat. And I thank Him for providing us with access to an amazing medical facility.
When Mikayla was wheeled into the recovery room, we were overjoyed. She looked so sweet in her little bed with her pink skin and shiny lips. Things had gone perfectly in the operating room and the hardest part was over. Within 24 hours her paralysis was lifted and she opened her eyes. In the following days her wires were removed, machines disconnected and medications reduced. I thanked God for the progress she was making. Each day I prayed that I would receive more good news. I felt greedy. I often watched fearful mommies and daddies receive bad news. I wondered how I would cope with all of this if I didn't know the Lord. Compassion for the children in the hospital exhausted my emotions and brought me to tears daily. I knew God was allowing me to see into their worlds and experience some of their pain. My baby was expected to make a full recovery and live a normal life, but many of the children in the next rooms were not so fortunate. It was during that time that I stopped asking God why all this was happening and started thanking him for Mikayla's future. There are some aspects of life we'll never understand and questioning the causes of our trials is very burdensome. Trusting the Lord in our difficulties even when we don't know the reasons for them brings peace and perspective. Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."Matthew 11:28. He doesn't say, "Come to me and I will give you the reasons." Sometimes life just happens...
When Mikayla was first diagnosed with a congenital heart defect, I felt betrayed by God. I thought I deserved a completely healthy baby and a wonderful delivery. That was what God owed me. I lost sight of the fact that when you are a child of God, there is a beautiful paradox between hardships and holiness. Hardships have a way of chipping away the flesh and releasing the spirit of God within you. Something invaluable emerges from the very thing you wished wasn't happening. There is no such thing as a trial free life here on earth. I am thankful for that.
"We glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5
Although Mikayla's surgery was just a few short weeks ago, it feels like a distant memory. It is like a coat pocket you forget you have until one day you notice it, reach in and find something you dearly value.
Mikayla won't remember any of her trauma but the scar on her chest will tell the story. And her name which means Who is like God? will cause her to thank Him alone for the mercy He has shown. There truly is no one like Him who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds! Psalm 147:3
Friday, December 2, 2011
Update on Baby Roos
Hey Friends, Nothing too deep today! Just wanted to ask for your continued prayers for us as we begin our journey with Baby Roos on Monday (unless I go into labor before then)! I have a scheduled induction at 8:30 am at Prentice Women's Hospital here in Chicago. Some very specific things I'd love for you to keep in mind as you pray for us: For my labor and delivery: I am going to try to have a natural birth as it seems to be the best option for both me and the baby. Please pray for a "textbook" delivery without complications. However, if there are complications, pray that the Doctor's will have the wisdom to know when to perform a c-section. I have a great group of Doctors that I trust completely and so I feel reassured that I am in good hands. As for our baby, please pray that she will be stable enough to stay in the hospital with me for a little while and that when she does finally get transferred to Children's Hospital that everything from her care to the surgery to the recovery will go wonderfully! So many things can set us back and we really want to see God's mercy and compassion covering our experience. Lastly, if you could also keep Makaio in mind as he has to let go of Mommy and Daddy for a while. He is VERY attached to us and we don't want him to feel like we are leaving him behind. His Aunts and cousin will be here keeping him company so we feel very blessed by their presence! My hope is in the Lord! "He heals up the broken in heart and binds up their wounds. The Lord takes pleasure in them that fear Him, in those that hope in His mercy." Psalm 147:3-11
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Heart of a Miracle
Every life is a miracle. Ponder what the psalmist says about the creation of life and how precious it is in the sight of God.
"You formed my inward parts; you wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made... My frame was not hidden from you, when I was made in secret and skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth; your eyes have seen my unformed substance and in your book were all written the days that were ordained for me when as yet there was not one of them!"
When I think of this baby and her little heart that wasn't formed exactly how it should be, I am tempted to ask God why all this is happening. But when I reflect on what the psalmist says, I am confronted with the fact that my baby has been "skillfully wrought and wonderfully made." Is she any less of a miracle because her heart is not perfect? Should we celebrate less because we will endure hardship soon after she enters the world? Of course not. Instead we should rejoice that this little miracle will be a conduit of His grace, tenderness and compassion. If she were perfect, we may never know those aspects of our heavenly father. Through this baby, we will come to know Him more and we are thankful for that. As God uses her life to show us more of Himself let us not try to take ownership over her but instead remember that we are just stewards, faithfully helping her to do His bidding.
For those of you who do not know, Wouter and I are expecting a baby in December. She was diagnosed with Transposition of the Great Arteries and will need a complex heart surgery within a few days after birth. In the midst of this unsettling news, we were preparing for our big move to Chicago and wondering if we should go ahead with it. Many questions swarmed our minds about our future steps but we felt strongly that we were to continue walking the path set before us. And I'm so glad we did.
Upon arriving in Chicago, I was able to secure great health insurance which then enabled me to come under the care of some of the best doctors around. After just a few weeks of living here, I have been examined by leading fetal cardiologists and skilled high risk pregnancy doctors. Today (9/9/11), Wouter and I met with the surgeon who will be performing the baby's Arterial Switch Procedure at Children's Memorial Hospital. Dr. Carl Backer is one of the nation's top cardiac surgeons and has performed this procedure many times. In fact, this hospital is a "hub" for this type of surgery.
The medical team tells us that our baby has a very "clean cut" case of TGA. In other words, there are no other complications with her heart. Often, other defects exist along with this one but so far, the doctors do not see any. This is great news and simplifies both the surgery and the possible post operation complications. All of the doctors seem very optimistic about the baby and her prognosis.
With great medical care in place and a sense of peace that both me and this baby will be well looked after, we can focus on the emotional aspect of coping with what lies ahead. We need a lot of prayer. As good as it is to have a simple version of TGA, we are still facing the reality that our baby is going to have open heart surgery just days after entering the world. The possible complications that can arise are scary. Dr. Backer has reassured us that less than 5% of babies have complications and so we are praying to be part of the 95% who do not. Please keep us close in your prayers as we walk through this difficult time. We want to look beyond the natural and glean whatever heavenly wisdom we can but we need to stay above our fears in order to do that.
Last night I heard a familiar song. One verse says "Here in our weakness you'll find us falling before your throne..." It is interesting how confidently we stand before God's throne when all is well in our lives and how quickly we fall before it when circumstances weaken us. I believe that God really wants us to be in a posture of brokenness before Him continually. Unfortunately, it often takes hardship to produce a broken, humble saint.
*Thanks for your prayers and for your faithful kind thoughts toward us. We will be posting updates on this blog rather than sending emails. If you want to receive blog updates, you can sign up on the top right corner of the blog page. Also, if you are interested in learning more about Transposition of the Great Arteries, watch the short video linked on the right sidebar.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Part II...A word spoken in due season, how good is it!” (Proverbs 15:23)
Sympathy...
I got lots of it. Well-intentioned, loving, caring friends and family poured forth their consolations. Hearing things like I’m so sorry this happened to you, or they should have done more to help you, and why did they allow you to labor for that long only to give you a c-section, enabled me to lick my wounds for longer and helped me justify my sadness and anxiety. Joining club WHY? kept me circling the drain of doubt and confusion. I was exactly where the enemy wanted me to be.
Instead of moving forward and pressing on, I was remaining stagnant: sympathy was my sedative. Sedatives are depressants that sustain a state of sleep. They purposefully keep one from engaging the pain of the moment and thus hold one back from full recovery. I gladly accepted sedation.
The Bible says that life and death are in the power of the tongue. Well-intentioned, kind words are not always the words that need to be spoken. Words spoken in purity and innocence of heart, no matter how sincere they may be, can often be a hindrance to God’s plan unfolding in one’s life.
We see this so many times in the Bible. For example, Job’s well-meaning friends. Their intentions were pure. They wanted to help their suffering friend. They wanted to console him and present a reason and a possible solution for the trials he faced but their words completely missed the mark. In fact, the Bible says that at that time, there was no one more righteous than Job and yet his friends blamed sin in his life as the culprit for his demise. Perhaps Job’s friends caused him to meditate on false notions of cause while his eyes should have been fixed on God instead.
When Jesus was about to go to the cross, Peter told Him that he would never allow that to happen. Peter did not want to see his beloved friend killed much less be killed in such a cruel manner. Isn’t that normal? Who wants to see suffering in the lives of loved ones? Not me. And yet Jesus replies in a curious and profound way: “Get behind me Satan! You do not have the things of God in mind but the things of man!” What??? Wow! That is a profound spiritual principal being revealed there. Jesus refused to accept worldly sympathies. Worldly words can contend with God’s plan. If Peter had spiritually discerned the purpose in Jesus’ death on the cross and what it would accomplish, he may have chosen different consolations.
As I type and think these things through, my intention is not to express anger or bitterness toward anyone who offered me comfort during my difficult time. In fact, all of the things said to me are things that I myself would also say to a hurting friend. And I am certainly not comparing myself with either Job or Jesus. I am just examining the spiritual truth revealed in both situations. I have learned that I need to seek and before I speak. After all, scripture says that many are the afflictions of the righteous… but the Lord delivers him from them all. In this world, believers are refined by the fiery trials they face. Impurities are removed by hardship and precious stones remain. I want to comfort people with the truth of scripture and not with worldly philosophical sympathies that tell us we should never have to endure pain or hardship in this life. When a person is in emotional pain, they need to know that there is a greater spiritual purpose for it. How hard it is to endure pain with no sense of its usefulness.
Eight months after Makaio was born, I had a revelation. It happened at women’s conference I was attending one Saturday. I happily walked into church that morning relieved that no one I knew was going to be there. Maybe I could finally let the floodgates of misery come down and not have to be totally embarrassed by such a blatant display of emotional weakness. Maybe I could freely cry and not have to worry about who was staring at me and wondering why I was so sad. The last eight months of fear, anxiety and just plain sadness were like weights around my neck dragging me down and I didn’t even fully realize it until that day. I sat down in the pew and waited for the program to begin. This church was so different than what I was used to. Pentecostal and charismatic displays of worship threatened my conservative stiffness. I really didn’t care. They had joy…I did not.
I stood there during worship desperate and vulnerable, ready to take a chance. The speaker approached the podium and her message was entitled “Just Joy!” Hmmm…a nice concept.
I don’t remember much of what she said that day. But I do remember this. She said, “Look into your past and think of a painful memory or experience that has hindered your spiritual growth. Use that pain to propel you forward into your ministry and destiny as a child of God! There is healing, there is purpose and there is a calling that only you can fulfill as a result of that experience.”
These were the words I had been waiting to hear for the past eight months. Something inside of me instantly healed. My wounds were sown shut and wholeness became a reality for me again. Fear was gone and anxiety took the back seat. It was like God Himself spoke to me that day.
I’ve never been the same since. I am completely free from the emotional pain of Makaio’s birth. I can talk about it without crying and I can accept the events as sovereign building blocks of faith that have a present and future purpose!
The name Makaio in the Hawaiian language means, “Gift from God.“
I have never received a more perfect gift than Him.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
When Scared Girls Do Brave Things
“Am I gonna live"?
These were the words I managed to ask the very attentive, very worried anesthesiologist as he moved the Nitrous Oxide mask toward my mouth.
No answer.
My mind told me that there was a chance I would die but my heart told me a different story. How anticlimactic it would have been to have endured 40 hours of natural labor and a stat C-section with "laughing" gas as an anesthetic, to never meet my baby boy. I held on with all my strength as they pulled Makaio from inside of me and began putting me back together again.
The natural birthing class that my husband and I took 3 months earlier did an awesome job of persuading me to try having a natural birth. The teacher boasted about the joys of bringing forth a baby without the pollution of modern medicine numbing our bodies and senses. She spoke of giving birth as a sort of modern day right of passage into womanhood...a concept that has disappeared in this current age of painless convenience. I was impressed by her rhetoric and challenged by the thought of having my baby with all of my senses intact. But could I really do it? Honestly, inside I was just a scared little girl hoping to achieve that "right" without actually going through the "passage".
On the way home from class, my hubby and I chatted about "going natural" or using pain management during labor and delivery. We both agreed that it would be better for the baby and for me to avoid the drugs if possible.
As the days went on, I thought more about a natural birth, read some convincing books and I prayed... I felt the Lord showing me that the birth of my son was indeed going to be a right of passage in my life. He showed me that from this birthing experience I was never going to be the same. He wanted to plant, deep within me, a treasure of wisdom, truth and hope. He wanted to deepen His roots in my soul and entwine his spirit with mine even more. I had no idea how all of this would unfold or how these truths would manifest in my life. I was just an excited, naive expectant mother waiting to give birth to her baby boy...waiting to be forever changed.
The time for delivery was fast approaching. I spent those last days of my pregnancy trying to stay sheltered from the hot Hawaiian sun. I laid by the pool, relaxed in my air-condition apartment and just waited. I remember the first mild contraction I felt on the morning of September 3rd, three days passed my due date. I really thought it was no big deal. I had a friend over that morning and we swam in the pool and chatted. My contractions were mild and weren't too bothersome. As the day progressed, the pain started to worsen. At 2 p.m. I called my husband in tears. I told him it was time for him to come home. I was in labor. I made a phone call to my birth coach, Margie, and told her we would be heading to the hospital soon. Although my contractions were coming on irregularly they were becoming too intense to bare. At 5 p.m. we began the hour long journey to the hospital. When we arrived, I was put into a room where I undressed, put on a gown and laid in a bed. The nurse came in. She checked to see if I was dilating and I got the first bit of disappointing news. I wasn’t even 1 centimeter. What? All those contractions and no progress?
We were told that we were welcome to walk the hallways of the hospital or go back home until things became more intense. We opted to walk the halls since the drive back to Kona seemed daunting. Two hours of walking and many excruciating contractions later, the nurse checked me again. I had made no progress.The nurses encouraged me to return home. We got back in the car and headed to Margie’s house where I could continue to labor and my husband could rest after his long day of work. At this point, the labor moved down into my lower back and the pain was so horrific that the memory has yet to fade.
A couple of hours went by and I decided it was time to head back to the hospital. We arrived an hour later and I was admitted, checked and told yet again that I had made no progress. By now it was early morning. The hospital was facing a shortage of nurses and midwives, two other ladies were closed to delivery and I could hear their screams from down the hall. I was in agony and hoping that their screams would not become my own in the coming hours. I was on hour 15 of labor at that time. Exhaustion and dismay set in and I demanded pain medicine. I was told by the nurse that I “was not a priority.” She also added that given the little progress I had made, I probably would not give birth until noon that day. It was only 2 a.m. It seemed like horrible news at the time but oh, how I wish she had been right! I thank God He has not given us the ability to see the future as 24 more hours of labor were still to come. I was devastated by her harsh words.
Lord? Where are you?
I can't remember much more of what happened during those next few hours. With the morning light came a new shift of midwives. When my new attending midwife entered the room with a smile and a positive attitude, I felt refreshed. Amazing how the human body can bounce back even through exhaustion. I was determined to deliver my baby...and soon. I found the strength to get out of bed and experiment with the birthing ball, chair, shower and tub. As the contractions came on strong, I concentrated on breathing. At noon, the midwife checked my cervix. I was 6 centimeters dilated after over 24 hours of labor. The midwife encouraged me and told me that in a few hours I would be pushing my baby out. I pressed on.
At around 3 that afternoon, I was 8 centimeters and felt the urge to push. The midwife came in and assisted me to push the baby out. After several attempts, she noted that my cervix was now swelling and closing up. Another huge disappointment. At that point the nurses mercifully gave me a narcotic to help with the pain. I felt so relieved. This helped to pass several more hours.
The sun was going down by now and another shift change was about to occur. The nurse who treated me harshly would be back on duty. However, this time, when she walked in my room she rushed to my side and gave me a very sincere apology accompanied by a vow to make me her focus until I finally delivered. I welcomed her sincerity and she became the best thing that happened to me during my stay. I knew that I now had the attention of a very capable nurse.
By 7:30 pm on September 4th, eyebrows began to raise. "Is this girl ever going to deliver this baby?" This question buzzed amongst the delivery team. My room became flooded with hospital staff as they told me what my options were. When the word “Epidural” came up, I was beyond relieved. I simply could not handle any more. No sleep, no food, no rest, no baby. I was finished. The anesthesiologist came in, read me the risks and I eagerly signed as my husband held on to me.
The epidural was a God send! I was able to rest. It was inserted at 8 P.M and I had enough in the drip to last for four hours. I was resting finally and hopefully dilating. At around 11 pm, I spoke to the nurse and reminded her that I only had one hour of drip left. I asked for more. No one ever came. But… by midnight when the drip was empty, I was fully dilated and ready to push! I was so very happy. The team came in and I began pushing. I did so for about 1.5 hours. Nothing…no baby. It was 2 am on September 5. The doctor was called in from her warm bed. She came into my room and told me we could try to use the vacuum to get my baby out or we could do a c-section. Not wanting a c-section, I opted to try the vacuum. The many hours of labor had softened my insides so much that the vacuum tore the birth canal and I began bleeding. Although the doctor tried to stitch me up, the stitches would not hold. The bleeding became uncontrollable, baby’s heart rate dropped and the Doctor called for a stat c-section. With no time to lose and certainly no time to give me more pain medicine, they tossed my husband scrubs and told him they would be back to get him.
They never had time.
At 2:24 Wouter Makaio Roos entered the world into a chaotic scene in the operating room. A huge baby boy surprised the doctor and nurses. Weighing 9.4lbs, his screams filled the air. Somehow joy took over as I drifted off, relieved just to be alive and hoping to forget all the trauma.
I woke up to a whole new world. One that was filled with happiness at the arrival of our son, but also one filled with questions.
Why in this modern day had I almost died giving birth?
Why had I been allowed to endure such an ordeal while educated medical staff stood by?
Why hadn't God intervened on my behalf?
Why?
Why?
Why?
In the next few weeks, I had more questions than answers, more pain than pleasure, more anxiety than consolation and more doubts than certainties. During this tender time a deep spiritual truth was being sewn into the fabric of my being…one that I still don’t fully comprehend but understand enough to now see as beautiful.
To be continued…
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