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NRL News
The Joy
Comes from Doing the Right Thing I love my early morning walks. My mind travels far even if my body is merely walking around our yard. Today, my memories were of 11 years ago—11 years, mid-May, 1996. I was eight months pregnant. It had been a happy and healthy pregnancy and I was scheduled for a routine ultrasound at my upcoming ob/gyn appointment. We were excited. My husband and I agreed, “Let’s find out whether we are going to have a son or a daughter!” The technician led us back to a small and darkened room that held the ultrasound equipment. And thus began our unexpected adventure and our equally unexpected maturing. The technician ran the ultrasound scope over my abdomen for a few moments, took some still pictures and measurements, and then said she would be right back. She returned—with the doctor. The doctor gently said, “There are some problems with your baby. Your baby is going to be born with hydrocephalus. A shunt will probably be surgically placed shortly after your child’s birth.” I started to cry. My husband was silent, unsure what to say. Appointments with specialists were scheduled. Oh, and the sex of our baby to be? A precious little girl. More doctors. More ultrasounds. Multiple amniocentesis. More tough news: an atrial-ventricular canal heart defect; Down syndrome. On June 19, 1996, Sarah was born at our local Children’s Hospital via a C-section. I didn’t know what to expect; none of us did really. Would she live? Would she need immediate medical intervention? And then came that beautiful sound—a high-pitched cry. I started to cry. A nurse carried our little girl, all swaddled up, and held her for me to see. Sarah couldn’t stay long, the intensive care nursery was waiting for her arrival but there she was. Big, dark eyes wide and alert. Lots of dark hair (that eventually turned blond). I just adored her. She was indeed beautiful. Perfect really—despite the extra chromosome and the enlarged head size due to hydrocephalus and the heart defect soon needing surgical attention. A perfect miracle in spite of, and to some extent maybe even because of, the birth defects. In that moment, I understood and deeply believed that God makes no mistake. Sarah was no mistake. She was God’s perfect plan for our lives, and the purposes He designed uniquely for us were going to come to us through her. What a gift! Since that wonderful day in 1996, there have been many hurdles to jump, deep waters of medical diagnosis to struggle through, and crosses to bear. Heart surgery at one month. A shunt placed at two months. A gastronomy tube for feeds before coming home from the intensive care nursery (at day 88). A stroke from a rare vascular disease (moyamoya syndrome) at 20 months. Acute lymphocytic leukemia diagnosed at age 7. Three years of chemotherapy (which ended nearly a year ago). No, it has not always been an easy journey. But is it supposed to be? During my walk this morning, I was thinking about the first emotion that came over me when we learned of Sarah’s diagnosis. Can you guess what it was? It was a deep and overwhelming desire to protect her. I never had a feeling like that before for anyone else. I just wanted to keep her safe, even in the womb. Now I hear of earlier and earlier prenatal tests. Often these tests are specifically developed to determine whether or not a baby will be allowed to be born with Down syndrome. When the mainstream media report this, they attempt to clothe these stories in the garb of “medical advances” (something “good”) and as an “opportunity” for prospective parents to “prepare.” But, as the mother of a child with Down syndrome, I know in my heart of hearts that the real reason for such early prenatal testing has virtually nothing to do with preparation and almost everything to do with “termination.” And, I am sad. When the choice is made to abort a child based on a medical diagnosis, be it Down syndrome or any other number of medical issues, it is more than quietly “terminating” flesh and tissue. It is ending a God-given life. And it may also represent the end of what was a uniquely designed purpose for the lives of the parents. Maybe not the purpose they had in mind. But uniquely designed none-the-less and potentially more fulfilling than anything they could have imagined for themselves. Lots of people will never know that blessing. And, I am sad for them. Joy comes not from an easy journey. The joy comes from doing the right thing, trusting in the Lord to find the strength to do the work and to do it well—and every day making a choice. Yes, a choice. Every day I must wake up and choose. To be sure, there are days of despair, but I still can choose hope and purpose even on those days. It is meaningful to do so. And, yes, it is possible to do so. The world lies to us sometimes and tries to convince us that having our plans and lives disrupted or inconvenienced is not necessary and to be avoided at all costs. But truly it is in these very disruptions and supposed inconveniences that the purest blessings may arrive. The deepest pain sometimes creates the deepest purposes and the deepest designs for our lives. God knows what He is doing, even when we don’t understand the big picture. And there are moments when I get glimpses, small as they may be, of the big picture, and there is nothing more exhilarating! |