Lord, See Us
On the evening of October 9th, 2019, my water broke. It was around 11 pm and I had been asleep for about an hour. I rolled over in bed and knew that whatever just happened was not right. I hopped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, where I called for Chris to come quickly. I wasn’t in any pain, but I immediately started sobbing. I was only 23 weeks along in my pregnancy, and after losing our first daughter Audrey at 24 weeks, I knew the odds did not look good for our twin girls. I just kept telling Chris over and over, “this is really bad”. He held my hands and began to pray. With a broken voice he said “Lord, PLEASE see us. Please just see us right now.” And with that, we called our neighbor and good friend to come over to stay with our 4 year old son, Asher, until my mom could get to the house, and we left for the hospital. We were both silent on our way to the hospital. I was afraid, but I would not allow my mind to go to the worst case scenario. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, but I knew God could see us, and that was enough to bring peace to the moment.
When we arrived at the hospital, they ran all kind of tests to rule out infection and also to confirm that Twin A’s water had actually broken. They did ultrasounds that confirmed both twins had strong heartbeats, both babies had fluid, and there were no signs of infection – all good things. Twin A’s water did indeed break, but from what they could tell, it must have been more of a leak, since she still had fluid around her. I wasn’t having any contractions, and was not in active labor. So now we would wait in the hospital for as long as we could to give these babies the very best chance of survival.
The day we found out we were having twins was the beginning of a season of uncertainty. Because of a previous preterm birth, I questioned if I would be able to physically carry TWINS long enough.
Then, during my 15 days of hospital bed rest, I felt uncertain as to why Twin A’s water broke. I felt worried of possible infection. Every day I would experience new symptoms that created more uncertainty. I felt uncertain as to how long we could sustain this pregnancy… would we somehow make it to 32 weeks? Or would labor start tomorrow?
After the girls were born, there was a completely new list of questions with only uncertain answers. Would they survive? If they did make it through the first 48 hours, for how long would they survive? I felt uncertain as to what medical complications they would suffer – would they be short term? Or permanent?
Days prior to their head ultrasounds… would they have bleeding in their brain? If so, was recovery possible?
After multiple diagnoses, I felt uncertain what recovery would look like for them. Uncertain if medical treatments would be successful.
As time went on, Cora failed multiple extubations… would she ever be able to come off the vent? If we did steroids to help get her off the vent, would there be developmental consequences? Would she need a tracheostomy?
After starting steroids, Cora struggled with the weaning process which led to uncertainty if/when she would be okay without steroids. This left us uncertain for months as to when she would be able to come home.
And our sweet son, Asher – how was this all affecting him? Were we doing right by him?
Questions on top of questions – and there were almost never concrete answers to any of them. It was always a game of “wait and see”.
I have never liked “being in the dark” on anything and I have always known this about myself. And if there is something that I am unsure about I wrack my brain trying to figure it out. Chris also knows this about me. He will tell you that I do not give up on solving a case of uncertainty even if it is something as miniscule as trying to figure out what he got me for my birthday or Christmas… I almost always get it out of him. I hate not knowing!
What I didn’t know about myself, was that uncertainty was the root cause of the majority of my fear; the NICU taught me this about myself.
There is something about certainty that brings peace. Even if the desired outcome was not obtained, when something is final, there is a sense of closure. When something is certain, your heart and mind can reconcile, find peace, and in a sense, continue to move forward. The uncertainty of Cora and Jane’s health left me mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. There were so many parts of their journey that were uncertain. That uncertainty brought me to my knees over and over again and it was there that God continually met me with more grace to get through another hour, day, week, month, 198 days… all the way home.
In the midst of all the uncertainty, ONE thing remained certain: God had seen us. Every time we were met with new challenges, He was watching over us. And He so graciously made that known to us time and time again.
Here I sit today, two years later, reading the story of my girls’ NICU journey TO my girls alongside their sweet brother and daddy – together as a family. As we flip through the pages Cora points to the pictures and says “Mama!!” and Jane chimes in with “Daddy!”. Back on October 9th, 2019, I couldn’t have imagined their future would be this good. We are in such a sweet season of life right now, and I am soaking it in the best I can before it slips away. God is good. All. The. Time.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
Psalm 139: 15-16
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