Tiny Coffins

I didn't know my son was dead yet, but I knew it was coming. I was after all, walking around carrying a baby with a death sentence, so I knew he was going to die. I woke up most days wondering if today would be the day he would die, the other days I woke up wondering if he had already died. Neither one was a worse thought, they were equally disturbing. I mean, him not being dead meant another day carrying him wondering how much longer I had with him, and him being dead meant, well that's self explanatory, it would mean I had to deal with the fact that my son died, in my womb, before I got the chance to meet him.

So what's a mother to do when she's carrying a baby that has no need for cute little bibs, or one of those spaceship looking rockers, or hand knitted blankets? What's she to shop for, what is she supposed to prepare for? I dont know. Honestly. I didn't know. So what I did was prepare for his death. I couldn't shop for cribs, but I could shop for coffins. So that's what I did. I didn't know if my son would be 38 weeks gestational age when he passed, or if he would be born alive and live a few minutes or hours, I didn't know how big or small he would be. But what I did know, was that he would need a tiny coffin.

I showed up at Forest Lawn (it's a local cemetary for you out of town readers, I see you in Swaziland) alone, my mom was waiting for me, she had drove separate, there was no need to greet each other, we were there to pick out a coffin, nothing worthy of a pleasant exchange. I had an appointment. The coffin salesman, that's not really what they're called, they're called "memorial counselors" or something like that, I say salesman because I was pitched at the different cemeteries I visited, even offered to buy a plot big enough for my baby at the foot and me, when it was time, at the head! Anyways, the saleswoman was waiting for me. We entered the conference room. Explained the future need of a coffin and burial, received the expected condolences, and then were led to a two way elevator. You know where you walk in and turn around, expecting to exit the same you entered, except you're the only one turned around because there's two doors, ya, one of those.

Stepping off the elevator was where this all started. I don't know if you've ever shopped for coffins, but let me tell you, all the white satan and gold foil in the world could not make the environment any less depressing. Some were cherrywood, others ornate and gaudy, a few black, a few white, there was a vast selection. Within seconds I was overwhelmed. But that was just the beginning. The counselor and her trainee she was lugging around directed my mom and I towards a door that was off to the side. The trainee opened it, the room was the size of an average walk in closet. The counselor stepped in, the trainee motioned for my mom and I to step in, then he stepped in and closed the door.

This room was brighter than the much, much larger room we had just stepped in from, but at the same time, this room was much, much, much darker. This room was filled with tiny coffins, coffins no bigger than 2 feet long. Some were baby blue, others pink and some white. These were the baby coffins. I was in a tiny room full of tiny coffins. At that moment I felt like all the oxygen was slowly leaking out of the room, I thought I might suffocate, I thought I might faint.

The tears welled up without me even realizing it. I guess part of me was concerned that I might actually stop breathing due to the overwhelming weight of the room's morbidity, but the emotional part of me just couldn't bear the sight of all the tiny coffins. The tears built a wall between my eyes and the terrifying scene in front me, I had to flee, I had to run, I had to get out of there. And that's what I did. Two words made it out of my mouth "I can't" before I reached for the door knob, and with that we were all off towards that awkward elevator.

It wasn't soon after that, days, maybe weeks, I don't really remember, but my son died, in my womb at 18 weeks. However, the day I heard the words "the little one has passed" was not the day he actually passed. The perinatologist doing the ultrasound was supposed to be telling me how aggressive his heart defects were and how his anatomy was developing so we could have an idea of how long he might make it, but there was no need for that, so she said those five little words, but couldn't tell me when he passed. Babies with trisomy 18 are smaller, considerably smaller, than your average baby. So the normal crown to rump and skull measurements they would use to see what gestational age the baby was when he stopped growing, those wouldn't help in this case. So I was told "he could have passed anywhere from a few days to a few weeks ago, I don't really know."All I heard was my baby was dead and I had been carrying him without knowing that for either days or weeks.

They say that there's a chemical reaction in a woman's body right before her water is going to break and she is going to deliver her baby, it's called nesting. Women start incessantly cleaning, some knit, others paint, whatever it is, it's comparable to a mother bird preparing the nest for the hatching of her eggs. I guess you could say I nested. For me, shopping for tiny coffins and burial plots not even two weeks after receiving my son's fatal diagnosis, that was me nesting.

You know, one thing you don't really think about, after hearing your unborn baby is dead, is how they're going to get the baby out of you. I didn't. Didn't think about that all. It wasn't until the perinatologist interrupted my empty train of thought and asked if I would like him to be surgically removed, which would be less painful and take less time, or if I would like to be induced and deliver him, that's when I realized I still had to give birth to my son, alive or not.

I chose to deliver him. It meant that I would get to hold him, taking the surgical option meant that that wouldn't be possible. I wanted to see this little life that had been growing inside me, I wanted to hold him, I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to have something to remember him by. I wanted to go through the process of labor, like any other mother would, I wanted to experience the pain and the tears, I felt I owed that to Corban, I felt like I needed to experience that.

I showed up at the labor and delivery wing of the hospital the morning after learning of his death, and the sweet nurses prepared a room for me at the end of the hall, at the opposite end of all the rooms that had sounds of happy screams and babies crying floating out of them. There would be no happy screams, there would be no baby crying in my room. So I took that walk past those happy rooms, past many empty rooms into my room, the very last room. I had some amazing nurses. They made me feel like a normal mom, that was delivering a normal baby, I wasn't treated any differently, and for that I'm thankful. It took 18 hours for the inducing drug to take effect and for me to deliver my son. It happened much differently than any of the nurses and doctors had advised me it would happen, and how I expected it to happen.

There was supposed to be cramps, contractions, labor pains. There was supposed to be pain, physical pain. There was none of that. These things would have been a warning that he was coming. There was no such warning. I was frankly so tired of waiting for these things and from being up for so long that I asked for some sleeping meds and went to sleep. I woke up 2 hours later discovering that my water had broke, and my son had came out. I woke up and saw him lying there, lifeless. No pain.

I remember being so scared. I hit the nurses button in a hurry and said into the speaker "my baby is here." I was answered with an "excuse me, can you say that again?" To which I responded "I think my baby just came out." Nicole, my sweet nurse, ran in, looked at my baby, then her eyes met mine and she said "I am so sorry, that must have been so scary, I know you weren't expecting that." She grabbed a receiving blanket and put my son in it, then took him to the warmer. She explained everything she was doing, she made sure I knew exactly what she was doing, and I appreciated that.

I spent five hours with my son. I held him, I read to him, I photographed him, I cried, I smiled, but mostly I just stared at him. I couldn't stop staring at him. I was so in love, and so in awe, of my beautiful little baby. He was so tiny, but so beautiful. He was smiling, he had a beautiful little smile on his face. And at that moment, I was no longer thinking about the tiny coffins, I was thinking about how perfect, and how much fun he was having in heaven, at that very moment.

I knew I was holding just his empty tent, I knew Corban wasn't there within my touch, I knew he was in heaven, in the presence of Jesus. I just wanted to redeem all my rights as mother as I could. Hence the reading and the pictures and the gazing. I wanted to claim it all, like any new mother would get to do. And I did. But after a few hours, I placed him back in the warmer and I slept. I slept peacefully, and I slept happily.

I no longer had to wonder about when my son would die, because now my son was alive, fully alive, in the presence of the God of the universe, the One who spread out the heavens like a canvas and hand created all of creation. My son was born alive, directly into heaven, into the arms of the One who created him, and the One that saved his momma. I no longer had anything to worry about, my son was free, and my son was without pain or suffering or tears, he was alive, and alive forever.

I'm not sure if I dreamed of my son that night or if God just painted a picture on my heart, but I saw Corban, and he was so happy and so full of life. I saw the same smile on his face as the smile he left behind for me to see. At that moment I was free too. And I made I promise. I made a vow. Knowing that the Spirit of the Lord that lives in me is the same Spirit that resides in heaven where my son now lives too, I promised the Lord that I would serve Him, that I would place no one before Him, and I would one day make it to heaven too, by His grace, and there I would meet my son, in all of eternity.

That was five months ago, today. And today would be the day that had my son not had a rare, fatal condition, that he would be due, today would be his birth day. I've been dreading this day, even trying to hide from it and pretend like it wasn't actually approaching, but it's here, today is here. But a dear friend of mine, whom I love so much, who also lost a baby, gave me some pearls of wisdom when she said "his due date was never God's date for his birth, it was man's date, God had His own date." How true that is. God knew, from the very beginning of time itself, the day and the hour that Corban would take his last breath in my womb and his first breath in heaven, God knew. And it happened exactly according to His divine plan.

I have to believe that. I have to believe that all of this is part of God's perfect plan for my life. I don't have to understand it, but I know that if God allowed it, then it must be okay. Now that's a hard pill to swallow, painful even, but it's my cross to bear. Jesus was sent from heaven, down to earth, to suffer a horrific and torturous death in order to make a way for man's sin to be forgiven to receive eternal life, that was His cross to bear. He had to endure a death that none of us will ever have to endure, all to give us life. I too had to endure a death, the death of my precious baby boy that he might get to live forever in the presence of God. And this gave me life, in a way, too.

Carrying and delivering Corban, as traumatic as it was, gave me a second chance. I had endured much in life, before finding out I was pregnant, but I can't say I had unshakeable faith. My faith was weak. This whole experience, of becoming a mom and finding out my child was going to die and having to carry that life anyways, this has strengthened my faith in a way that I can't even express with words. And as you can see, there's no shortage of words here, but I can't explain how the Lord has built up within me an unshakeable faith and breathed new life into me. Having gone through this, and through a different kind of loss just four weeks after that, I have discovered that there is no one I trust, no one I love, no one I yearn for, more than Jesus. He promised to be with me in the fire, and let me tell you He is, He is right here with me. He promised to not let the waters overflow me and He hasn't, He has been my shield and lifeguard. He promised that I would not be consumed, and He has kept that promise, because I am here, I made it through this. I truly believe that my God lives, and that He saves and restores and that He is who He says He is.

This seemingly tragic event has not made me question who He is, but it did make me question who I am, who I want to be, and who I could be. I made a promise. I made a vow. And I am going to keep that promise, to God and to my son, to live a life on this earth worthy of the Lord, a life that aims to glorify Him in everything I say and do, to scream from the rooftops that my God is real, and that He loves us and that He desires to spend all of eternity with us. For the glory of God, in honor of Corban, I will serve my God.

My world has been shattered, yes. Much of what I have has been taken or stolen from me, but one thing that man can't take, that the enemy that seeks to devour and kill can't take, is my faith. I believe in a big, big God. And when that God creates a life within my womb and then uses that life to change my life and others around me, when He steps down from eternity directly into my life, I have to believe that He loves me, that He is for me, and that one day He will take me to dwell with Him forever. I have to.

I should tell you, I never went and bought that tiny coffin. After seeing his tiny face and tiny smile, I realized that I didn't want to think of him in that tiny coffin. I wanted to think of him high above the earth, soaring with the angels in heaven in the presence of a big, big God, the God I love, the God I serve. There was no burial, but there was a beautiful little memorial service where we released 18 balloons, one for each week of his life and where we remembered the beautiful little life that was so full of unteachable lessons and unearthly wisdom.

My journey with Corban Elijah is not over. It will never be over. I will forever carry him with me, in my heart, in my soul, until I'm reunited with him in eternity. Everyday I live, I live with him on my mind. Today it hurts. Yesterday it hurt, and tomorrow it will hurt. There is still pain, I still ache for him and long for him with every breath I take, but every day is one day closer to getting to finally hold him in heaven forever.

Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. - Colossians 3:2

Corban Elijah

On the day I found out I was pregnant I wrote a letter to my unborn baby. Looking back at that letter from almost 3 months ago I kind of chuckle because I hear the nervousness and uncertainty in my voice. I ramble a lot, give a lot of unnecessary details and kind of abruptly end the letter as if I was out of useless details from the day to spew so I decided to just stop writing. I did end it by saying "I now realize this life is no longer about me, but about you."

Later that night I decided to write to him again and this time the letter, while short, was a bit more heartfelt. I explained that I would be his mommy and promised "to love him from this day forward, with all the love I have to give." I told him that Jesus loved him very much, told him that I loved him almost as much, and expressed my excitement that he would be coming soon.

The next day I wrote in my letter to him "today I woke up like no other day in my life; I woke up as a mother." I continued to write to my baby, not daily but periodically, as I wanted to remember this pregnancy in all its realness. But then the letters started to decrease in quantity but increase in emotional quality. I was having a rough time and something inside of me was scared to keep writing for fear that I would loose him to miscarriage, I didn't want to get too attached until I knew I had reached the "safe zone." I didn't know that that safe zone would never come.

On March 11th I had an ultrasound that screens for genetic abnormalities by measuring the amount of fluid behind the baby's neck, any findings are considered only "soft markers" for chromosomal abnormalities and many babies with an abnormal amount of fluid behind the neck are born perfectly healthy. My baby's fluid size was large, on the highest end of the scale, but everyone kept telling me they've heard of "stories" where babies with this particular marker survive all the time. However, my letter to my baby that night reflects my realization that I knew my time as his mother would be short. Here it is:

Hi my baby,

My heart hurts so bad right now, so I thought I would just write and let you know how much I love you. I miss you, I'm so sorry I haven't written to you lately, it's been a hard couple of weeks. And today we found out that things might be a little rough for you as you develop into a strong little baby. And that's what breaks my heart. I don't want you to have to suffer or hurt in any way. You're all I care about and I want you to know that nothing in this world could ever make me love you any less. God picked me to be your mommy and your father to be your daddy because He knew how much we needed you and how much we would love you. We will give you all of us forever. We and so many people are praying for you my love. Thank you for being our perfect little baby.

Love,

Your Mommy

I remember when I was writing that letter that I was trying to be strong, I didn't want to scare my baby or make him believe that anything was wrong with him. Don't get me wrong, I know he was just a little bean at the time and unable to understand my words, but I was still careful to not say anything that might cause him to be fearful. But inside I was dying, my heart was breaking to pieces and I couldn't stop crying. I was unable to write to my son for the next three weeks as the testing proceeded and we waited for answers. I was too scared and too sad, and in such unbelief that I didn't allow myself to express how much I loved this child, because I thought the more that I loved him the harder it would be to say good bye.

Once I received the heart crushing, fatal results of the tests I gave myself a few days to accept the diagnosis and let the fact that my baby would soon die sink in. I wasn't ready to write to him again until I had named him, I had decided that I would not withhold my love for him due to his short life sentence, I was going to love him like any mother carrying a healthy child would love her baby. So I wrote to him to let him know we had decided on his name:

My Sweet Baby Boy,

Hi son! It's your mommy, and I think I know what I am going to name you! It's not for sure yet though, so forgive me if it changes and God gives me a different name for you okay? -Corban Elijah-  Corban is a Hebrew word meaning gift or sacrifice consecrated to God. Elijah was a prophet in the bible who never had to suffer death because God loved him so much that He was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind on a chariot of fire.

We now know that you my love will not be here on earth with us very long, if at all. But don't be scared! If I am not the first person you meet in life, then it means that Jesus will be the very first Person you ever meet, and He will meet you at the beautiful gates of heaven with His loving arms ready to embrace and hold you. Remember the book I read to you about heaven? Heaven is full of little children and babies just like you, and you know what? Jesus loves children very much, probably more than anyone else ever created! So you are going to have so much fun up there, and you will be so loved, in fact you will be loved perfectly with the divine love of God!

I am sad that I might not ever get to hold you, or kiss you, or hear your sweet little cry and this makes me cry a lot. But please know baby that you aren't making me cry, you are perfect and so special to me. I only cry because of how much I love you and how much I'll miss you. You are my ultimate dream come true. All I've ever wanted my whole life is you, a sweet baby boy, and now I have you! Even if it's only for a short while. But I know God has a life prepared for you far better than I could ever offer you. He already has everything prepared for you in paradise, and you get to live there forever, without ever having to shed a tear or be sad! That's how much Jesus loves you son! I promise to teach you as much as I can about your Father in heaven while you are still in my belly so that when you get to heaven you can help Jesus teach all the other little children that are up there.

You've already taught me so much and will continue to teach me all the days of my life. There's not a minute that goes by that I don't think about you or that I forget about you, and for the rest of my life I will always think about you and remember you. You are the very first person to hear my heartbeat from the inside, and in my heart you will always be, you will forever be a part of me. No one will ever take your place either, you are irreplaceable, you are my first baby and the one who fulfilled my greatest dream.

Well my sweet love, it's time for mommy to get some rest now, hopefully you will too! I will write to you again soon. Oh! Tonight we are going to learn about Moses and how much his mommy loved him, I can't wait to read you the story! I love you Corban Elijah, with my whole heart, and I always will.

Love,

Mommy

I must now open up a bit more and expose the realness of the pain that I feel. To even go out in public takes a lot of energy, mentally. I have to prepare myself for the pregnant women I will encounter, the newborn babies I will see being pushed in strollers and the sound of babies crying that I will hear. The exposure to each of these elements has a 50/50 chance of sending me into a full on breakdown complete with tears and and water works. I have even had to stay away from browsing the feed of my Instagram because I am sure to see a picture of a pregnant belly, an ultrasound or an uber cute little baby. I get triggered very easily lately and am having to, for the time being, stay away from things that cause me to go into distress. Sadly, the hardest place for me to go is to my home church, where a good handful of my friends are currently pregnant, have babies under a year old or have a child that loves and adores them. I haven't yet gotten to the stage where I can be happy and share my excitement over their blessing from God, as I am still mourning the imminent death of my child.

I want people to know that I have already experienced the death of my son in a sense. When a woman finds out she is pregnant she instinctively starts dreaming of her unborn child and the life that her child will have. For us it was blue dreams of baseball games and playing catch on the front lawn, swimming lessons in adorable little trunks and fort building with cardboard boxes. When we received the diagnosis of Trisomy 18 all of those dreams died. The child we dreamed of died. He will never ever be able to live that life. In fact he only has a 5% chance of surviving past birth and after that a 1% chance of seeing his first birthday. This diagnosis is concrete and confirmed. There is no chance that he will not be born with this syndrome or that he will be born with it but will be the first child in history to live a normal life. So I need the people around me to understand that I am currently grieving the loss of the life of my son. And it's such a hard place to be in because I still have a growing life living with in me, but at the same time that little life is getting closer and closer as the days go by to his day of death. It's hard to be excited about his life when I am expecting his death. It's like being on two opposite sides of the emotional spectrum at the same exact time; I am experiencing both the excitement of life and the pain of death all at once.

The hardest question to answer these days has been "how are you?" Sometimes I answer with whatever I feel will make the person asking least uncomfortable, other times I answer honestly and am then told "I don't know what to say to that" and on a few occasions I have answered sarcastically "how do you think I'm doing?" Many times I just don't answer. Sometimes I explain how rough my day has been and I get a "I've had a rough day too due to x, y and z" and because x, y and z, doesn't involve losing a child or carrying a child that you know is going to die soon I get annoyed and angry. It's so hard to not be angry at everyone and everything. I find myself very short tempered and lacking patience with people such as the Subway girl or the Starbucks barista. The past two weeks I have been "holding it all together." Very few tears have been shed during these weeks as I have been busy meeting with specialists, health professionals and even funeral information officers. That is until last night. I had visited Forest Lawn to inquire about prenatal, still born or newborn burial services the day before as I have decided to control everything I can in this pregnancy and be completely prepared for what will happen as what I really want is out of my control and unattainable. Being told one price for burial over the phone only to walk in and be told a much higher price, a thousand dollars higher, only further angered me. "Why do I have to be making these decisions, why does Corban have to die, why am I not planning a baby shower and a nursery instead of a memorial and a funeral....Why God...WHY?!" I thought to myself. After spending a beautiful Easter at my parents house with extended family I got home only to have reality hit me like a ton of bricks. This was my first and last Easter with my son, and I began to cry, the cry then turned into weeping and wailing and didn't end for four hours.

This is the rawness of the depth of my pain that I am giving you a small glimpse of. It's not so that you will pity me or feel sorry for me, but more so that you might understand what I am going through and be able to be sensitive to my current state of mind. I feel like many people I have confided in have made me to feel that my faith is not big enough because I am preparing for his death and not expecting a healing miracle. My answer to that is talk to me when you have talked to at least 5 medical professionals who specialize in genetics, fatal fetal diagnostics or perinatology. Once you do that, or have gone through it yourself, then come and tell me that I need to have faith that God will heal my child and that I need to be excited about this pregnancy. Statements such as "you never know what God can do" do not help. Telling me that "doctors are wrong all the time" offers me no comfort. I have had to accept this diagnosis and have to learn to work through and past this fatal diagnosis. So when I hear comments like that it's like I regress and have to work through the acceptance stage all over again. My son's grim, fatal prognosis is not up for debate, it is what it is and I am learning to accept that as the days go by. It actually is more helpful for me to talk about his fatal diagnosis with reality and acceptance from those I am conversing with as it helps to ease some pain. Given the circumstance, I am as excited as I can be. I'm so glad I have written these blogs because I have to periodically return to them and reread them to remind myself of what God has shared with me and the comfort that He wants me to feel. Because I don't always feel the way I did when I wrote the previous blogs. That's why they are monuments to me that I have to return to so that I can remember what I felt at that time when God was speaking to my heart that I might return to that place of peace.

I believe that my God gives beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning and peace for despair. But I do believe it's a process and it's not that once I move from one to the other that I must stay there and be over the former, it's a constant back and forth between the extremes. Most of the time, day to day, I am at peace, I am rubbing my belly and reading to Corban and going about life normally. But sometimes I am in the depths of despair and feel like I'm drowning in pain and unable to go on any further. But I know to be still in those times, because it is then, when I am at my weakest, that I am closest to peace and comfort and the strength I need to go on. He has never failed me, I know He never will. But my faith is not yet ironclad, it is not impenetrable and always at it's greatest. I get weak, depressed, angry and inconsolable at times. But I am so grateful for the love and support of my family and friends. People that I can call at 4am crying hysterically without even being able to speak and they are there to comfort and console me. Friends I can text at any time asking for prayer as I am in a dark place and they respond, even if at 5am, and tell me they are praying and offer comforting and uplifting words. My parents, my brother and sister, my handful of close friends and my pastors have been the very arms of God to me, embracing me, loving me and supporting me through this journey. I am so blessed by the support system I have and can depend on during this storm in my life.

I will end this post asking for prayer, for Corban Elijah first and foremost, and then for me and my family, as it's not just me losing a son, it's my siblings losing a nephew, my parents losing their first grandchild and I'm sure to my husband it's him losing his son but also having to watch his wife endure a pain that he doesn't understand. We are literally in the valley of death and the only reason we are able to continue is because we believe that God is who He says He is, that He is the same as He was before we found out Corban's fate and that He will always be. Faith. It's all we have right now. So your prayers for us are invaluable and appreciated in a way that I can not express with words.

"You have lost a child - a lovely child; but, my sister, you have not really lost your child. You call him lost who is in Christ's keeping? You call that babe lost that is up among the angels? If your child had been taken to be a prince in a palace, you would not have said that he was lost; inasmuch as he has been caught away to be with Jesus, say not that he is lost. You are the mother of one who can see the face of God! -Charles H. Spurgeon taken from Sermons on Women of the New Testament

Corban Elijah. Our gift from God to us, offered back up to Him from us,

never having to suffer death, but will be taken up to heaven by angels

who will introduce him to Him who made him and holds the whole world

in His hands. My sweet boy, I love you so much baby.

A Golden Cross to Bear

Fifteen days have passed since finding out the devastating news that our baby's initial first trimester screenings all pointed to a positive outcome of a chromosomal abnormality. These initial findings are why we decided to go forward with further invasive genetic testing despite the risk of miscarriage that this testing came with. It's been exactly a week since that test was performed by the Director of Perinatology and OB at UCI Medical Center. We knew we were in the hands of the All Mighty when we found out it was Dr. Porto who would perform this risky procedure, as he is not only the director of high risk pregnancies at UCI but also a professor of high risk pregnancies as well as the Chair for the California State Perinatology Board. We had the best possible doctor available on the west coast perform this procedure which consisted of sticking a needled into the placenta that houses the baby and extracting cells in order to test the DNA, we were in great hands.

The procedure was textbook and painless but we walked out of that hospital knowing that the worst was not over, but yet to come. It would be at least a seven day wait for the DNA to be tested by a Genetic Lab and for the results to be received by my doctor. That wait was by far the hardest thing I have ever had to go through in my life. All the questions, "will my baby be okay, is it a major chromosome abnormality, could it be a heart defect, will it be fatal, will it be minor, how will I handle the results, what happens next..." they were endless. I spent a lot of that time in silence, with the only words I was able to send up to my Divine Intercessor being "please heal my baby, please help my baby, please protect my baby, Jesus help me." The rest of the time was sadly spent in tears.

I felt like the Lord was preparing me for the results that were to come. Many people tried to offer comforting words like "we don't know anything is for sure yet, this is just a test form God, many babies that have these markers end up perfectly healthy." However, deeper than the depths of my heart into the very opening of my soul I knew that none of those things were the case, I knew I was carrying a child with a major abnormality who would need a miracle in order to survive. Nobody could convince me other wise, the Holy Spirit had his hand upon my mind as He prepared me for what was to come.

We went and paid for an elective ultrasound this Monday just to check on the baby, we wanted to hear the heart beat and make sure she was still fully alive and viable. I thought that hearing her heart beat would make it easier to wait the remaining days for results. At our 4D ultrasound we found out she was a girl, and we got to not only hear her heart beating strong but in 4D see her move around in my womb. She was playing with the umbilical cord and even looked like she was painting with her little hand; she was so active. It was so beautiful to see her so alive, so full of life with the very breath the God of this universe breathed into her.

That night I had a dream. Only one scene was vivid and recallable when I woke up. It was a doctor showing us the paper with the results, and he pointed to "Chromosome X" and said "your baby has an extra one, it's the worse possible diagnosis." I didn't wake up in tears, because again, I felt like the Spirit was simply confirming what I already knew and what God was preparing me for.

Today was the end of the seven day waiting period. And it was the absolute longest day of my life. I stayed asleep as long as I could so I wouldn't have to be awake waiting any longer than I had to. 3:00pm came and I made a call to the fetal diagnostic center at UCI to see if my results were in. They said they would call the lab and call me back. At 4:00pm I had not received a call back so I called again..."any word?" Yes! My results had been faxed over and they were now sitting in the box of the genetic counselor assigned to call me back and discuss the findings, but she was on a conference call, so I was promised she would call me back as soon as she got off the phone. At 4:45 I had not yet heard back so I called for the third time hoping to catch her before she left for the day, this time the Genetics Department exchange answered and I was informed that the department closed at 4:30.

I wasn't going to give up though. I knew that someone had my results and I was determined to get them. I called St. Jude Hospital's Fetal Diagnostic Center whom originally referred me and called UCI to squeeze me in over there to have the testing done on a day when they were already fully booked. The woman who answered the phone was the same angel that went out of her way to make sure I was seen last Wednesday to get the testing done. She knew my voice, and tenderly said "hi Diana." I explained UCI was now closed and was promised the counselor would call me back but now I can't get through. I was panicked and anxious and my voice relayed every emotion that was coming to surface. She promised to track the counselor down and have her call me. Ten minutes later my phone rang.

And that is when our world stopped. "Your results are in. Your baby does have a serious chromosomal abnormality. It's chromosome 18, and she has an extra one, three instead of two. This is a very serious problem and I'd like for you to come in tomorrow to discuss the details of the diagnosis." She was on speaker phone so that my husband could hear too. After setting a time and hanging up the phone, we turned to each other, embraced each other as we laid on the bed, and started to cry. The kind of cry that can't be consoled or stopped, it just has to flow and run it's course.

Trisomy 18, also referred to as Edward's Syndrome, is one of the most severe chromosome problems a child can have. 95% of these babies die before they are born, the remaining 5 percent have a lifespan of 5-15 days, while some can live up to a year old, with one percent living into early adulthood but with major intervention and assistance required as the defects are so serious.

I can't really express in words what I am feeling right now, tears seem to be the only outlet of expression I have. The only comfort I have is knowing that the God who saved and transformed my life is in control of my baby's life; He formed her, He knows Her, He ordained her, and she is His. And He chose me to carry her, He chose me to be her mommy. I breakdown at the thought of never being able to hear my baby girl call me mommy, of never getting to braid her hair, of ever being able to push her on a swing or go dress shopping for prom with her. My baby's time in this temporal world is just that, temporary.

I can ask the Lord a thousand times why he picked Israel and I to be her parents, why He chose such an inexperienced,  newly married, young couple to carry her, but it's all in vain. He chose us, and who better? We have so much love and time to give this child of His, that I wouldn't want her to be in the womb or arms of anyone else. A majority of mothers receiving this diagnosis choose to terminate their pregnancies and try again for a healthy child. So that is why I know God picked us, He knew we would love and cherish and appreciate her for the time we have her and that we will try with all our might to let her life bring glory to God.  She is wonderfully and fearfully made, and perfect in His sight, so that is how we will treat her; like His perfect child who He has loaned to us for just a short time to carry out His grander plan.

As I proofread the words I have written I feel like I'm reading someone else's story, I don't feel like this is my life. I don't know how I went from the surprise excitement of having a baby just two months ago to now thinking about whether or not I'll have to plan her funeral before her first birthday. It doesn't make sense, it doesn't seem "right" nor "fair," it all feels like a dream. I am still in a state of shock, I'm not really sure that I've accepted all of this. But I know that my God has never failed me, and He won't start now. I know that He has a plan and a future for my life, I know that He takes what the enemy has intended for evil and uses it for good and that He promises joy for mourning. "Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted." Matthew 5:3-4.

All I can do is try to keep my mind stayed on Him, for it's only then that I will be kept in perfect peace. Worrying does not add one cubit to my stature, and running from the only One who can help me would be the most foolish thing I can do right now. So I will cling to Him, even though I will fail and fall short and run out of patience and get bitter and angry, I will do so in the presence of my Savior as it is only there that I will find strength.

My husband and I thank you all and greatly appreciate your support and prayers during this difficult time. We thank God that we have been given such amazing family and friends to uplift us and to constantly remind us that He is always with us.

Our beautiful baby girl at 13 weeks 3 days. She's smiling right at us!

"Do you remember what Mary said when Gabriel told her that she would bear God's child? She said 'I am a virgin. How, then, can this be?' The angel answered, 'the Holy Spirit will come on you, and God's power will rest upon you' (Luke 1:35). Without any regard for how this pregnancy might complicate her life Mary said 'I am the Lord's servant...may it happen to me as you have said' (Luke 1:38). This was Mary's signature statement, reflecting her attitude about serving God."
-Mary's life experiences help us understand what it means to be a Christ follower. It means responding to God in the good and bad times by submitting to God's will. Our response to His will, even when it is perplexing or painful, should be the same as hers: "I am the Lord's servant. Whatever God says, I accept." -Brenda Poinsett taken from She Walked With Jesus

UPDATE: Thursday 3/27/14
Today we met with the genetic counselor to discuss the details of our baby's fatal diagnosis. Sadly, that diagnosis did not change. However, we received some exciting news! It turns out that that precious baby in the sonogram photo is not a girl at all, but is indeed a boy, confirmed by DNA analysis! The commercial Ultrasound location we went to just to check on the baby was "99% sure" that it was a girl, but our son's DNA says other wise! In all honesty, when I was told she was a girl I was a bit disappointed only because from day one of finding out I was pregnant I knew I was carrying a boy, as did my husband, I would have bet a thousand bucks that it was a boy, so to hear my intuition was so off was a bit discomforting. So you can imagine my joy, even despite the circumstances, to be told our baby was a boy. All my life I've dreamed of having a baby boy, I always wanted to have a boy first so that he could be the big brother to his siblings. And God gave me the desires of my heart, He blessed me with a son! This is the silver lining I didn't expect to find. I have to apologize to my little man for referring to him as a 'she' and 'her' so many times, but baby boy I am so honored to be your mommy and so happy that God chose me to carry you. No one can ever take your place in my heart, you are my dream come true and I am so thankful for you baby.

Testing the Promises

On January 22, 2014 I found out we were having a baby, and I was going to be a mom. Two months have passed since then and I no longer refer to myself as a "soon to be mom," I am a mom. I have a child developing in my womb, whom I am responsible for. It falls on me if this baby does not get the proper nutrients it needs or if the baby gets an infection due to something I eat; I am responsible, I am her mother.

But for the last thirteen days I feel like I haven't been a very good mother. Once finding out that my innocent baby may be in need of a miracle to survive, I have let my joy turn to mourning and my excitement to fear. I've spent many combined hours in tears, begging God to heal my baby, and countless other hours despondent and detached thinking of the worst possible outcomes that could come of this once beautiful pregnancy.

My baby has a 7.4 mm fluid build up behind her head, neck and spine that has increased between weeks 11 and 12 and her extremities appear to be abnormal. Many of these markers point to chromosomal abnormalities like Down Syndrome, Turner's Syndrome and Edward's Syndrome. The latter two being the most devastating to think about as these babies typically die before birth and if they actually make it to their birth date won't survive for more than a week, while some can live up to a year. But I pray that the very worst outcome is that we have a child with functioning Down Syndrome in which we can still love and spoil her and watch her grow up surrounded by family that loves and adores her.

These are just some of the things I agonize over as I await the results of a CVS I had done on Wednesday, 3/19, which is an invasive genetic diagnostic test to determine what exactly my baby is facing. This seven day waiting period for the test results has put me in the trenches of the deepest valley I have ever known. There are no words that comfort, or embraces that that offer solace.

During these times I find myself questioning God. "Why make my baby suffer, will You take my baby, why can't You take me instead, what kind of lesson is this?" I shout these questions in the form of endless tears but with the same tears I beg God for mercy and healing upon my baby. I plead for a miracle while trying to accept His will for my life and the life of my child.

Then I remember that The Lord has led me here, He set my feet upon the water and asked me to take that first step, to trust Him, that He might take me to a place where my faith would be without borders. Yet at this point, I feel like I'm sinking. I feel like I have taken my eyes off my Savior and instead turned them to all the problems my baby is dealing with, as she fights with her little, beating heart to survive in my womb.

I'm not sure if I'm on a hour glass running out of time with this beautiful baby that I have fallen so in love with, so I have decided to be the best possible mother I can to this amazing baby for as long as I have her. I have spent the last couple nights reading Bible stories to her and letting her listen to my favorite worship songs. I want to be able to look back and know that I didn't spend my last days with her just waiting for her to die, but that I tried as hard as I could to let her experience life and be taught that Jesus loves her, so much so that He might just take her home to heaven early so that she can live in perfect peace with Jesus forever. And that one day I will be there to finally meet her.

And that is what brings me back to the Lord. If He does take my baby home, straight out of my womb, then the only way I will ever get to see her again is by trusting in Him and His promises that He works all things together for good for those that love Him, and that when I go through deep waters He will be with me. It's hard to think that He is here with me, because my carnal mind so simply deducts that if He were here He would be healing my baby and taking me out of this fire. But it's just like the thought of eternity or the Trinity, it's so far beyond our minds ability to comprehend that we have to rest on faith and believe what He says to be true in His word. So I must believe, without understanding, that faith is the things hoped for and the evidence of things unseen and that though there may be pain in the night joy comes in the morning.

The very Hand that formed the universe is holding me up at this point, because I can't stand on my own. I have a heavy, sorrowful spirit and can't seem to shake the grief that burdens my heart. But I am reminded of Hannah, in 1 Samuel, who also had a sorrowful spirit as she could not conceive and spent many years lamenting in prayer begging God for a baby. However, though she was sorrowful her own personal woes were not her life Psalm. She still had a God to serve, a husband to tend to and people to bless. She put duty before her misfortune and exhibited grace and gentleness as she excused other's lack of sensitivity and even their unfounded accusations for why she was in her position. Hannah's sorrow drove her deep within herself and then boldly into communion with her God. And in His presence she found grace. Hannah ended up bearing a son, which she had promised God that if she conceived she would dedicate him to the service of the Lord and have him to serve and live with the priest. She had finally bore a son, but then gave him up to the temple as she had promised. And for her faithfulness God blessed her with five more children after that.

I pray for that grace, that this suffering would lead me to be more gentle and patient with fellow sufferers, that I might have compassion to bear with others in their burdens; that I might help them see through the walls of tears that well up in their eyes that the cross still stands and the Lord still reigns. It's okay to have bitterness in our heart for our circumstances, as long as we believe that the Lord will sweeten our souls in His time. The winter will pass, the rain will soon be over, flowers will appear on the earth and a time of rejoicing will come. (Song of Solomon 2:11-12)

My husband and I greatly appreciate and welcome your prayers for our baby and our family during this wait for answers and crucial stage of development in our baby's life.

Our Baby at 12 weeks 5 days

"Our Father has reasons peculiar to Himself for thus keeping us waiting. Sometimes it is to show His power and His sovereignty, that men may know that Jehovah has a right to give or to withhold. More frequently the delay is for our profit." -C.H. Spurgeon taken from Morning and Evening

The Great Unknown

This blog was inspired by my unborn child, not even 12 weeks formed yet and he is already setting fires in the hearts of man.

If you’ve met me in person you might know me as a woman of few words. However, enter into my heart and mind and you’d find yourself drowning in an ocean of thoughts. Oceans.

I spent the weekend of January 17^th-19^th of this year at a women’s retreat in Murrieta Hot Springs hosted by my church Calvary Chapel Golden Springs. At least once a day the team leading worship would play a version of Hillsong United’s Oceans. You may have heard the song:

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters, wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger, in the presence of my Savior."

During a session of prayer and worship, as this song played, I dropped to my knees weeping, asking God to lead me to a place where my faith would be without borders, where my faith would be made stronger. What I didn’t know then was that I was about one month pregnant. What I didn’t know then was that I was facing a high risk pregnancy, possibly carrying a child that would have life long challenges, or worse wouldn’t even live to see his day of birth or first birth day.

All I knew then was that my heart was heavy and that the Lord was calling me somewhere where my survival hinged on only complete trust in Him. My heavy heart was burdened with a weight that I couldn’t understand at the time, but looking back I believe the Holy Spirit was preparing me for the news that I would receive only four short days after returning home from the retreat.

I remember sitting by one of the lakes on the beautiful and serene bible college campus on a break at the retreat. Oceans was on repeat in my headphones, and I was asking the Lord to reveal to me what it was He was calling me to. But an answer didn’t seem to be coming. Two of my very best friends ended up joining me, Erin and Jackie, and they asked if I was doing okay. I responded with a question: “What if Jesus was standing upon the waters of this very lake, and He asked you to step out unto the surface of the water, would you really take that first step?”

 I was thinking of Peter, a disciple of Jesus, he had the courage when asked by his Lord to step out of the boat during a raging storm and walk upon the water. We know the story, Peter looks back to where he came from and he started to sink, having to be rescued by Jesus. But did Peter panic? Or did he simply look back with a flash of fear and disbelief that he was walking on water in the midst of a storm? Either way, he took his eyes of his Savior and his moment of doubt caused him to sink. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get us off the path that God is calling us to. Just a single lapse in our faith can cause us to fall to a place where we are drowning and distant from the only One who can save us.

Well here I am Lord. I am out of the boat. I have stepped upon the waters. I don’t want to look behind because I know what is back there, a world of pain and fear and sorrow. I want you Lord. I want the freedom and joy that comes with trusting in You with all my heart and leaning not upon my own understanding. I want Your grace so that I can have Your strength when I am weak. I want Your yoke Lord, for it is gentle and light. I come with burdens and questions, but Lord I’m coming, coming to You with them. I don’t know if my child will be born with a form of Down Syndrome, a heart defect or perfectly healthy. But I do know that no one on the boat or on dry land can help me, no one can heal my baby, but You. You can Jesus. My yoke is heavy, my burdens more than I can bear; I should be sinking to the bottom of the ocean. But here I stand, upon the waters, my arms are heavy, but still reaching for You.

Did I really know what I was asking for when I asked that His Spirit lead me to a place where I would be required to trust without any restraint or moderation? No. I did not. But my husband and I are now in a place where we must wait, and trust, and exercise our faith in hopeful prayer that we would be given a healthy baby, and if not, that we would be the parents that God has called us to be that this child needs. This will happen no other way but by complete and unreserved faith in Him. And in the process, I know He will be answering my prayer and making my faith stronger.

I don’t have it all together; I don’t always act in accordance with the beat of my heart. Like Peter, I have denied Jesus, while in His very presence. Like Moses, I have misrepresented my God to the people He has entrusted me to witness to. Like Thomas, I have doubted and questioned everything The Lord has ever shown me. And like Martha, I have busied myself so intently instead of spending time with the One who died to save me. I am flawed and dusty, mistake-prone and full of regrets, but I am exactly who Jesus came to this world to save and set free.

There is no one else that can offer me that kind of mercy, no one else that can give me beauty for ashes and turn my mourning into joy. So as we embark on this journey of parenthood, I look to the Lord and must fall at His feet in surrender, because this isn’t something I can do by my strength or my might, I need His Spirit. (Zechariah 4:6)

“When My heart is overwhelmed, when the huge waves of trouble wash over me, and I am completely submerged, not only as to my head, but also my heart. It is hard to pray when the very heart is drowning, yet gracious men plead best at such times. Tribulation brings us to God, and brings God to us. Faith’s greatest triumphs are achieved in her heaviest trials. It is all over with me, affliction is all over me; it encompasses me as a cloud, it swallows me up like a sea, it shuts me in with thick darkness, yet God is near, near enough to hear my voice, and I will call to Him.” – C.H. Spurgeon in his exposition of Psalm 61:2 taken from The Treasury of David.