Meeting Annie Lou

 It's October 1st, a crisp and sunny, perfect fall morning, and snuggling on my shoulder is 4-day old Anne Louise. I think back to finding out a little someone existed 10 months ago, on January 17th, coming as a small shock--that it could happen so fast, and I hear her cry now, arms waving wildly in this big world, and I give thanks. Her birth four days ago, and her whole life are such evidences of the goodness of God and his tender, faithful compassion that I pause to record these events to give praise to God and to help me remember in the future this "Ebenezer" of faithfulness. 

Everything seemed to be going well until 27 weeks when my midwife said I was measuring a little small at my appointment. I was already struggling with worry, but tried to rationalize that everything was probably fine. At a growth scan we learned that all was not fine. They said her growth had dropped to the 3rd percentile and that the blood flow between baby and placenta was elevated, meaning baby was not getting the proper nutrients in order to grow. Dr. Gherman said what I needed was a new placenta but no one could give me that, so we just needed to watch and wait. And keep an eye out for pre-eclampsia. And do kick-counts, just to be sure baby was still alive in there. And be ready to have this baby at any time, in case the blood flow further decreased. Pack a bag for the car, they said. Drink lots of water and don't stress; just try to relax, since being stressed raises your blood pressure. Oh, of course. I'll be sure not to worry. 

We headed to the camp the next morning, sick with worry, but staying home didn't help anything. I was already imagining a second funeral for a second lost child, but tried to push those pictures away. I guess once you've buried a child, it's not so hard to imagine doing it again. At church in the mountains that week, two women prayed over me during Communion. They prayed for a full-term healthy baby girl with their hands on my growing belly, and with a heart lacking in faith and tears in my eyes, the prayer felt almost pointless; impossible. It was nice to hear but I had written the end of the story in my head and that ending wasn't it. I spent some time in bed that week wrestling with God, revisiting Hannah's story and her radical submission to God with her beloved child. "If you give me a child, I will give him back to you." I told God I would entrust this baby and myself back to him, regardless of the length of time we had together. I prayed night and day to feel the baby move and to keep her safe, to increase the blood flow to baby, and to cause the placenta to function correctly so baby would grow. 

We came home, and with trembling steps returned to the doctor. We got some-what encouraging news, things had not worsened, and more importantly, Dr Moravia fully explained to us in terms we could manage what was going on and how things could develop from there. She said she'd seen babies come out of growth restriction and sent me home with the homework to eat more calories and believe things could turn around. Faith and hope was not something a medical doctor had ever prescribed to me, but it was exactly what was needed."Babies know if you've given up," she said. 

We spread the word and our communities began praying for us, and we began to see answers to prayer. After getting two steroid shots (the most painful shots/bruises of my life; though the pain was somewhat blessed, seeing as it was one thing I could do to help my baby), the baby, who we decided to name Annie Lou, began growing. 4th percentile, then 6th, the blood flow significantly improved, the weeks passed with no concerning results at the ubiquitous non-stress-tests and ultrasounds. I made friends with the nurses and technicians and doctors and the whole fetal medicine office was cheering for us. Improvements were celebrated with tears, hugs, and dancing. We had imagined a tiny preemie baby living at the NICU for months, but weeks passed while she stayed safely inside. 

As we prayed, she grew and grew. I took the hospital bag out of the trunk because things seemed so stable. "Full term" came into view. I began to pray that maybe I wouldn't need to be medically induced. I prayed that I could have a natural birth. Then, at our 39 week scan we learned she'd grown SO much that she wasn't considered growth-restricted and didn't need special intervention to come at a certain point. Impossibly, it seemed, we were free to wait on her to come when she was ready.

Around 39 weeks, I began noticing an increase in contractions, and lost my mucus plug over a few days. I tried not to get my hopes up since that happened at least a week before Ruth was born, too. I walked as much as I could and bounced on the exercise ball and tried to trust she would come at the right time. On Tuesday, my due date, I took a long walk alone and prayed with gratitude over each working body part, and over everything that God had done so far. Contractions continued, and I felt lots of pelvic pressure. After we put the kids to bed, I texted a few people that I hoped the contractions would stick, allowing myself to feel a little hopeful  things were starting. Gradually I realized my water was broken- slowly. Around midnight, I was assured my water was defintely broken, and when I bounced on the ball again the rest came out in a rush. Contractions were about every 4 minutes and then I got in the shower, which helped focus my heart on God and be relieved of the fear and unsettledness in my heart. Slowly, contractions intensified until around 2:30 when I checked in with my midwife she encouraged me to go ahead and come in. Lindsey arrived and I told her I wasn't sure if it was time to go since I felt like contractions weren't that intense- but thankfully, we left then. The car ride out to Annapolis was very worshipful for Kyle and I; we were praising God for everything he was doing. I was crying with joy and gratitude, and was able to focus and breathe and relax my body through each intense contraction. By the time we made it to the hospital, parked, and slowly made our way up to Labor and Delivery, stopping every 50 yards to work through contractions, I thought to myself, "I can't do this anymore!!" but I told myself that meant I was so close. We got into triage and I knew I was in transition because I got hot, sweaty, and clammy, and then when the nurses started asking me a bunch of questions I was like, "I'm pushing!!!" They asked if I could walk across the hallway to the delivery room, and there I was able to work with my body and push intuitively standing up- just a few times, and at 3:40, Annie was out! No IV, no tearing, no long labor in the hospital, just like I had hoped. Thankfully she nursed right away and was perfectly healthy, 6lb 11oz, born 3 hours after being "full term." Thank. You. Lord.

I've been processing how accepting affirmative answers to prayer throughout this pregnancy has been surprising and a little difficult for me. I have grown accustomed through past suffering to learn to trust God's providence and personal kindness to me even when prayers have been answered, "no, not now." Perhaps it is self-protective to quietly assume God will say no to my requests, so that I won't be disappointed if he does. I believe he CAN do the impossible, but it softens the blow (so I think) to prepare myself for the worst outcome. What does it mean to grow in faith to ask God for big things and trust in him with the result - without "letting him off the hook" by already believing he won't say yes? I'm not sure. But it can be a little uncomfortable accepting such lavish "yeses" for me- what about all the people who didn't get a healthy baby, or pregnancy, or the birth they had desired? Why did God show me this kindness? I'm not deserving of this grace. I truly don't know. But I do know that it was in God's wisdom and providence to use tremendous joy and miraculous healing to grow my faith in this season; whereas my "comfort zone" has been to trust God to use alot of suffering and loss and pain to grow my faith in the past. But God doesn't only use pain to transform us. He can use gifts and joy to also draw us near. In fact, he loves to! What Father wouldn't delight in seeing his child take delight in a lavishly personal gift from him? Jesus, help me accept these gifts, help me delight in this child as from your hands, and allow these answered prayers and miraculous healing and growth of Annie Lou to be an Ebeneezer for the rest of my life. I can return here and remind myself of your trustworthiness and power to redeem. I can remember what I've seen of your heart, which loves to give good gifts -- not just works good through the hard in my life.