So here’s to a beginning. I have been wanting to write for a while but haven’t been able to pull together the words as to all that I have been feeling and learning. It has been on my heart to share some of my experiences that have truly shaped me to be the person I am. It has pressed on me to share about some of my darkest times and how I was carried through. This blog is dedicated to the Lord, the very one who carries my world.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Collapsed Hips and a Double Blessing: A Year in Review


 
It’s hard to believe that one year ago today I entered Griffin Hospital by wheelchair for what would unknowingly be the darkest time in our lives. I didn’t know as I entered the double doors and was wheeled through the lackluster hospital corridors that we had simultaneously entered into a time of sorrow and perpetual loss that would far extend beyond that particular day.
 

Oblivious to what was ahead and assuming the worst had already transpired in requiring a hip replacement at such a young age, we certainly couldn’t have predicted a botched replacement and the need for me to endure the same grueling surgery not one week later.

 
We couldn’t have predicted that pain relief measures would be altogether ineffective and that the pain I had been experiencing in my hips would soon be considered negligible compared to the pain I would all too soon come to know.


 
 
We hadn’t considered the possibility that my “good” hip would go on to collapse (despite assurances that it would last for years to come) a short four weeks after my other leg had been repaired.
 
Nor did we foresee a brutal fourth surgery for an infection of my newly repaired hip.
 
 

Was this real life?
Sure, we had grown accustomed to loss over the past years in battling my lupus and all that came with it. We were no strangers to too many medications, waiting rooms and IV infusions; but this hit on a whole different level.
Feeling utterly stripped of any and all possibly remnants of hope, it seemed all-consuming loss had come to stay. And destroy everything in its path.
And even as the physical pain ever so slowly began to subside, there lie an inner ache that lingered far longer than I would have liked. It was a mourning, not only for the physical loss that we had endured, but also for the loss of what we believed our lives ‘would be’.
For years I watched as others went on to grow their families. I envied those whose dinner tables were filled with the hustle and bustle of raising larger families. We had our girl, and yes, she was our whole world. Her sweet and cheerful personality more than filled our home. Even still, a small part of my heart ached.
I knew perhaps I shouldn’t feel this way. Guilt poured over me in recognizing the countless women who so struggled to have even one child. Who was I to be discontent with what God had given?
Psalm 23:1 says, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
I shall NOT want. I wrestled with those words, feeling my own heart did want. I wanted to be healed. I wanted to be free from medical problems. I wanted my pain to end. I wanted another baby!
But God was reminding me he was in fact my shepherd. My good shepherd. All I needed to do was to trust him. To trust that he actually was good. Even in unimaginable pain. He was good. Even in what felt like the dark. He was good. And he was trustable.
Charles Spurgeon says, “To trust God in the light is nothing, but trust him in the dark- that is faith.”
Numerous times we prayed for another child, knowing full well the odds were not in our favor. Three times in particular I laid in bed next to my husband, watching him while he slept, listening to the peaceful rhythm of his breathing.
I had always found the quiet of the night a good time to pray. Really pray. As the noise of the day was at last silenced, my distracted heart could finally think clearly. I began to ask God for twins. I knew it was ridiculous as soon as I prayed it. And I didn’t dare tell my husband for fear that if we were by some chance to become pregnant that he would have some sense of sadness that it was one baby and not two.
I knew there were days where I could barely handle being a mom to one! Why would God give us two? I needed to stop being selfish, I told myself. And so, as quickly as my prayers came, I let them go.
Some time passed, and to our surprise my rheumatologist informed us that even with my new artificial hips it would be okay to try for another baby. He went on to say that my lupus had stabilized to a satisfactory extent and that it would be best to try sooner rather than later in consideration for the timing of my next infusion.
Was this really happening?
Were we really going to try for another baby?
In hearing his words, it was as if a huge sorrow had been lifted from our shoulders. A sorrow we no longer had to carry, as that which we had grieved and considered lost was suddenly being given back to us. And then some.
We began to try for a short month, but it was not without much reservation and deliberation. As excited as we were to have the clearance from my rheumatologist to try for another, we couldn’t ignore our experience with my first pregnancy which had been grueling from beginning to end with many unwanted and scary complications. Were we willing to go through that again? Were we emotionally strong enough to endure another high-risk pregnancy in light of what we had just endured these past months?
We couldn’t be sure.
And the more we talked, the more we realized that perhaps the risk just wasn’t worth it. More, Matt expressed grave concerns for my health, for fear that our desire to have another baby could potentially leave our children without a mother.
I knew his fears were not something I could brush off, rationalize or ignore. I knew life with lupus meant great unpredictability, complications and sometimes poor outcomes. I knew many young girls with lupus had been taken ‘before their time’ so to speak.
And with that, we decided to pursue another avenue: Foster to Adopt. I delved into the Connecticut Child and Family Services website, learning all that I could. I spoke to social workers. I learned about classes. I learned about becoming licensed with the state. It all seemed exciting and new. I went on to sign us up for an open house where we could get the process started. And two days before we were to attend the open house, we received some news.
I was pregnant.
My hands shook as I held the white stick closer to my face, staring intently at the dark pink line. There was no mistaking it. My heart pounded in my chest as I attempted to grasp what that fully meant for my husband and I beyond that terrifying and thrilling moment.
I called him immediately, as he was away on business. There was no way I could wait another second. We both rejoiced and freaked out. And rejoiced and freaked out again.
But what would the picture look like now?
Proverbs 10:22 says, “The blessing of the Lord makes a person rich, and he adds no sorrow to it.”
NO sorrow. Those were words I could hang on to. As fearful as we were for another difficult pregnancy, and as fragile as we were having come through so much, we knew ultimately another pregnancy was a gift from the Lord. And with that, an unexplainable peace rested over my heart.
I knew this verse was for me.
As the days passed, I found myself utterly amazed by this body of mine that I felt had once so betrayed me, this what felt to be ’90-year-old’ encasing was now carrying NEW life. Miraculous new life. It felt as if God had set the reset button on the script to our lives, and the youthful years we had considered lost were being restored.
Deuteronomy 30:3,4 says, “God, your God, will restore everything you lost; he’ll have compassion on you; he’ll come back and pick up the pieces from all the places where you were scattered. No matter how far away you end up, God, your God, will get you out of there…”
One week later we nervously entered the obstetrician’s office for what would be our first ultrasound. We took our seats in the carpeted waiting room filled with floral pictures hung from the walls. Beside me sat a pregnant woman in a green dress who appeared ready for delivery at any moment. As we sat I found my racing heart was quickly distracted by the hustle and bustle of secretaries answering phones and women of all ages entering and leaving the office.
Five minutes later my name was called by a woman in navy scrubs carrying a thin chart. We quickly followed her down a pink hallway and into the ultrasound room. We knew today was an important ultrasound. We knew today the technician would assess for fetal heartbeat and viability.
I scooted myself onto the exam table, noting the loud crunch of white paper beneath me, anxious to begin the exam. As I laid back, I glanced over to my husband, noting his excited toothy grin which instantly put me at ease. I knew another pregnancy was an answer to prayer for him as well. And it was good to see him happy again.
A few minutes passed, and I began conversing with the blonde ultrasound technician who wore a kind smile. As we spoke I went on to ask her, “If there’s twins in there, would you be able to tell?”, to which she replied, “Oh yes!”
I exhaled deeply and watched her as she began to place the probe, studying her face carefully for any cues as to what she was seeing. We listened with nervous anticipation as she silently typed on her computer, and then suddenly her expression changed, and her eyes widened. In that instant she turned the screen 180 degrees in our direction announcing, “You’re HAVING twins!”
What?

This couldn’t be happening!
Matt and I looked at each other in shocked exuberance, both now taking deep breaths in and out while repeating to each other, “Oh my gosh!!”
I watched my husband begin to leap up and down with joy, dumb-founded by our glorious news.
Tears began to flow down my face, and a warm feeling came over me in realizing God had HEARD my prayer. AND he had answered it.

So many times over the past year I had cried out to God and pleaded with him for relief and escape. And it seemed things only worsened. There were times I wondered if God was listening to me at all. But this time. This time God had honored my prayer. This time he was showing me he had heard me all along.
He had heard every single one of my prayers.
And so, here we are today, in our twenty-third week, knowing in a few short weeks we will be entering into our third and final trimester.

There have been no complications for the babies or myself. Despite being told by physicians that “one pregnancy often mimics another with regard to autoimmune disease”, we have found this pregnancy to be entirely different.
Entirely blessed.

Entirely miraculous.
“For these children I prayed, and the Lord has given me my petition which I asked of him. Therefore, also I have lent them to the Lord; as long as they live, they shall be lent to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:27-28