A Stewardship Journey (continued)

Part 2

While I seethed in my anger towards God, He was working miracles all around me.

The hospital had asked me what I would like to do with my son's body. Did I want to bury him? Did I want the hospital to dispose of him? At the time, I was so devastated, I felt as though I wanted no memory of my Noah, so I asked the hospital to dispose of him and signed the papers. The papers were lost, so the hospital staff came to me again, to have them signed. They were lost a second time...and a third time. Um, I think God was trying to tell me something, but I was not in the mood to listen.

Bill, my father-in-law, stepped in and helped Steve make the decision to have Noah buried in "Babyland" at Wisconsin Memorial Cemetery. What an incredible blessing! I cannot count the hours I would spend there, just sitting by my son's grave, talking to him, telling him how much I missed him and how I wondered he would have been like.

I can recall some very dark times after Noah died. I remember telling my mom that I wasn't thinking about taking my life, but that I wished that God would take me, so that I could be with my son. In my desperation, I felt as though that was the only thing that would bring me any sort of happiness.

Through those dark times, Steve and I continued to attend church regularly, because I just felt that I needed to be there. Even though I was angry, I needed to be in fellowship. I needed to be surrounded by people who were in the faith. It was comforting to me. As I look back now, I realize that God brought Steve and me closer to our church family about 6 months prior to the car accident. He was preparing us for it and knew that we would need that support. He is always faithful.

About 2 months after the accident, I was healing, and seemed to be moving in the right direction. The only physical reminder of the accident I had was having to take a blood thinner, due to a blood clot that had formed in my leg. One afternoon, I was working out in the yard when I began to have some shooting pains in my arm. I called my doctor and she directed me to the emergency room. It was there that I learned I had a ruptured diaphragm, a result of the accident. I had to go in for major surgery to repair the tear. Prior to entering being put under, the nurse asked me if there was any chance I was pregnant. I told her that there wasn't. After spending 3 weeks in the hospital, I was finally able to return home.

Before we knew it, summer was coming to a close and August was upon us. It dawned on me that I couldn't recall the last time I had my cycle. I so wanted to be pregnant. I very much wanted a baby, but I knew that my body had been through so much, I was afraid. I remember taking the pregnancy test and it was positive. I remember clearly, telling Steve, and the look on his face. It was not joy or happiness, but anxiousness and worry.

I immediately stopped taking the blood thinner and called my doctor to make an appointment to see him. I had no idea how far along I was or the potential side effects of the blood thinner on my child. I was able to get in to the doctor fairly quickly, because they needed to get me on another type of blood thinner that was safe for women who were pregnant. When I went to see the doctor, we learned that I was about 3 months along. 3 months - that meant that I had undergone major surgery while pregnant and that I had been on blood thinner during a very critical time.

The potential side effects of the medication were not good--miscarriage, stillbirth, dwarfism, mental retardation, brain/spine problems and the list went on and on. The risks were highest when the blood thinner was taken early in the pregnancy, just as in my situation. I asked my doctor about the major surgery I had and possible side effects of that. He said that the surgery didn't appear to have an effect on the baby, so that was some good news. Regardless, Steve and I felt that we had 5 more months of worry and concern ahead of us, before our baby was born. Waiting, wondering, hoping, praying.

All the while, God held us in His hand. He gave us a church to support us and family to love on us. I remember telling Bobbie, my mother-in-law, about my concerns. How scared I was that something would be wrong. She responded confidently, "Everything is going to be just fine." I wondered in awe how she could be so sure.

To be continued...