Pigtailed Promise
Two years ago today we were absolutely heartbroken. Labs had just confirmed what we already knew: we had lost our third child. Although we'd only known we were expecting for a few short weeks we grieved the loss of that precious baby deeply. We couldn't bear the thought of parting with a nameless child, so we called the baby "Annie." I still get a lump in my throat when I remember. We had so many hopes and dreams for our Annie, and every one was cut short. Worst of all was the thought that I would never in this life hold this baby. I knew what I was losing--we had Henry and Thomas and we knew how much joy they had brought us. We were grateful beyond words for them, but ached for the child we'd lost.
Eleven months later to the day, Cora was born. She was in no way a replacement for the child we had lost, but a promise of new life and a reminder that there is hope even in the darkest valley. We were overjoyed to introduce a girl into our boy-filled world. Under it all was a feeling of completion.
One month later, one year ago, Micah was on a retreat with his staff. As I bathed Cora before bed, she suddenly arched, stopped breathing, and turned an awful blue-grey color from head to toe. It felt like a nightmare. The nurse in me reacted, stroking her back and calling her name, praying I wouldn't need to do more. After what seemed an eternity, she began breathing normally again. I quickly dried and dressed her, found someone to watch the boys, and drove her to the hospital. Over the next four days, the doctors performed every test they could think of: EEG, EKG, chest xrays, swallow studies, labs... I remember one particular afternoon. She had just had her echocardiogram, and I had made the mistake of looking up possible heart conditions. Every one of them was fatal. I texted my best friend and said, "Even if it's not true, just tell me she's going to be ok!" After four days of negative tests, they determined that the episode must have been caused by acid reflux. She was put on huge doses of reflux medications and spent a month on an apnea monitor around the clock. After a month, she wore it only at night.
It's been about five months since she's been monitor-free, and I'm so grateful. I'm even more grateful that despite all the heartache and potential for a different outcome, we have a healthy, happy daughter. It certainly was never a given. God absolutely didn't "owe it to us," and we were prepared for any number of outcomes. But I am so incredibly thankful for our sweet Cora. I am enjoying her so thoroughly: my little pigtailed promise of hope.
Eleven months later to the day, Cora was born. She was in no way a replacement for the child we had lost, but a promise of new life and a reminder that there is hope even in the darkest valley. We were overjoyed to introduce a girl into our boy-filled world. Under it all was a feeling of completion.
One month later, one year ago, Micah was on a retreat with his staff. As I bathed Cora before bed, she suddenly arched, stopped breathing, and turned an awful blue-grey color from head to toe. It felt like a nightmare. The nurse in me reacted, stroking her back and calling her name, praying I wouldn't need to do more. After what seemed an eternity, she began breathing normally again. I quickly dried and dressed her, found someone to watch the boys, and drove her to the hospital. Over the next four days, the doctors performed every test they could think of: EEG, EKG, chest xrays, swallow studies, labs... I remember one particular afternoon. She had just had her echocardiogram, and I had made the mistake of looking up possible heart conditions. Every one of them was fatal. I texted my best friend and said, "Even if it's not true, just tell me she's going to be ok!" After four days of negative tests, they determined that the episode must have been caused by acid reflux. She was put on huge doses of reflux medications and spent a month on an apnea monitor around the clock. After a month, she wore it only at night.
It's been about five months since she's been monitor-free, and I'm so grateful. I'm even more grateful that despite all the heartache and potential for a different outcome, we have a healthy, happy daughter. It certainly was never a given. God absolutely didn't "owe it to us," and we were prepared for any number of outcomes. But I am so incredibly thankful for our sweet Cora. I am enjoying her so thoroughly: my little pigtailed promise of hope.
