not to us

At right about this time, I was driving down Columbia Street towards Purdue University.  My heart was beating hard against my chest, and my 15-month-old baby girl was strapped into her carseat behind me.  One prayer was playing in my head, as if the repeat button had been pushed, "God, please don't take my baby today.  Just not today.  Please give me one more day with him or her.  Help me find Mike quickly and show me what to do next.  Just please, please don't take my baby today.  I just want a few more hours with him or her."

I very, very specifically remember that part.  I remember exactly what block I was driving past when I whispered those very words, and the floodgates opened.

"Just a few more hours, God, that's all I'm asking for.  You can give me that, right?  It's not too much to ask?  Please, just a few more hours."

As I called my list of loved ones, my heart grew more and more calm, even though I was repeatedly getting voice-mailboxes.  As I walked all over the West Lafayette Campus of Purdue University, my tears subsided.  When I found my husband's office empty, my mind serenely thought through the most logical places where I could look next.

As I talked with my pastor on the phone, while searching through yet another empty academic building, I just asked him to pray.  And I only asked him to pray that I would find Mike quickly.  Nothing else, just pray that I would find my husband soon.

Within an hour, I was pushing the stroller through a state-of-the-art research facility, following signs for a prestigious conference.  As I reached the door for the conference room, my heart rejoiced to see that my husband was sitting directly down the row from the door.  I stared into the side of his head, willing him to turn my way.  Eventually, I asked one of his colleagues to get his attention.

As he turned to see me, my face must have said a thousand words.  He immediately got up from his seat and informed his colleagues that he would be gone for the rest of the day.

When we climbed into the van, he got into the driver's seat.  As he began to drive, he asked, "What's wrong?"

And that's when it all became very real.

"My amniotic sac has broken again.  I'm leaking a lot, just like I did with Ruby."

"But you're only 17 weeks."

"I know."

"What does this mean?"

"The baby has no chance to live.  I will probably go into labor within the next 48 hours...almost definitely within the next two weeks.  There's no way we can get to the point of viability.  The doctor wants me back at the hospital as soon as possible to admit me.  I don't know what's going to happen next."

Every drop of blood drained out of Mike's face, and he pulled over for me to drive.  As he leaned the seat back and closed his eyes, we both began to cry.

"No matter what happens, I can't do this again," I said.

"I know.  Me neither," he said.

This was to be our last biological child.

With our parents on the way to town, we set up temporary babysitting arrangements for Ruby, and I asked you all to pray for us.

Twenty-four hours later, I was at home on strict bedrest...making burial/cremation plans and preparing myself for the imminent birth and subsequent death of my baby.  Trusting that God had the very best in mind for me, I chose to face the situation with the confidence that God would support me and be glorified through every step.  I just happened to think He would be supporting me through the loss of a child.

Instead, He led me through fifteen weeks of the strictest bedrest possible.  He sustained me through seventeen ultrasounds, during which we anxiously searched for big black voids of space that indicated miraculous pockets of amniotic fluid.  He gifted me with the most amazing network of loved ones who:

*provided over 800 hours of loving childcare, including some evenings and weekends

*prepared and delivered over 75 meals, not including my lunches or sweet teas  :)

*cleaned and organized our home twice a month

*visited daily, hoping to keep my spirits up

*organized and pulled-off five game nights

*and prayed continually for a miracle.

One year ago, today, God began a work in our family, and He has been faithful to complete that work, drawing us closer to Him.  Lifting us up to a higher level of faith.  Giving us the opportunity to praise Him for who He is, not just what He can do or has done.

Today, because God (The One and Only) loves me and has heard my cries, I can sit here and stare into the beautiful sleeping face of my eight-month-old son, Burke Michael Goodwin.  The boy who was not supposed to live...but did.

Thank You, God!  I stand amazed.