It has been many days, weeks, and now months since Ashton and Isabellas rough ride commenced. I recall the night of our 2 a.m. rush to the hospital, the terrible news that followed, and the rapid descent into hopelessness. All hopes for a healthy happy family were immediately shattered as we prepared to deliver these twins far too early along for a chance at life. The world suddenly became a dark and grim place within a matter of hours, and faith eluded us. That hope was restored by a select few good friends and one very special young physician who gave us a chance. The chance: maybe we can save the boy if we can keep the girl alive and in the womb long enough for him to reach a viable age (this at 20 weeks gestation and a shot in the dark chance for pressing into 24 weeks to ensure that Ashton could live outside the womb with medical assistance). We prayed, and we stepped out of the comfort of a normal pregnancy and into the darkness of a chance. Karen was confined to the discomforts of a hospital bed for 7 weeks, and every four hours fetal heart tones would remind us that both babies remained stable within the womb. We researched and took the advice of our attending physicians to prepare us for what to expect. I will never forget the tears that were shed every time we heard Isabellas heart tones, and Ks heartbreak at assuming Ill never get to meet her. Isabella, whose amniotic sac was ruptured at 20 weeks gestation and without a measurable level of fluid on several ultrasounds, would likely initiate labor and come early... she could not survive. If, by some miracle, she did not come early, we were informed that the chances of her having functional lungs, kidneys, extremities, and other vital organs would be highly unlikely. A 1% chance at best. Ashton, likewise, faced tremendous risks due to prematurity and remaining in a womb with a high risk for infection (since Isabellas sac had ruptured and there was no plug). Although the news was discouraging and medical science offered us little hope, we prayed. Faith became our rock. Our family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers on Facebook came together and prayed for these unborn little ones. With each passing day, as Isabella remained in the womb defying all odds, our faith grew. When one month passed and she remained along with her healthy growing brother, we were amazed and so excited to know we had then reached viability. For 19 days beyond this viable age, Isabella remained in the womb and Ashton continued to grow. The ultrasounds could not tell us much about our girl, as the fluid sac that helps with this test was absent, so we didnt know much more than that she was growing and had a strong heartbeat. But we prayed. We held steadfast to our faith. I remember the call that Sunday evening... Ks voice with an anxious tone, You need to come to Memphis now, they are coming... The six hours of labor that followed as the medical team tried to stop the contractions, to buy more time. All of this without the benefit of the normal pain medications used for labor, as the risk was too great for the twins should they come, and the goal was to stop contractions, not mask them. I remember the text message from the OBGYN back home in Jonesboro asking what is going on, I heard youre asking for prayers tonight... Then as he learned the details he sent back a final comforting message to K (all of this at 2 am on Labor Day) tell her I said today is a good birthday, she has made it far enough... Then the OR delivery room. I counted 18 people in attendance minus Karen and myself. So many people, yet so quiet. I stood to watch the incision and Isabella being removed from her mothers womb. I had to see her. I had to prepare K for what she was going to see later. Would she be grossly disfigured? Stillborn? Would her extremities display contractures? Could she even take a breath or were her lungs going to fail? Then I saw her. She was placed on her mothers pelvis as the surgeon worked to hastily recover Ashton from the womb. I examined her as best I could from my distance. As I was stunned to see her frail little body without obvious defects, her tiny arms began to move and she kicked the OR towel off of her lower body... Her chest rose as she took her first breath, and then the tiniest, most pitiful cry I have ever heard escaped from her tiny mouth before she was whisked away by the neonatologist in attendance. I was convinced that my eyes had deceived me... That must have been Ashton... No way Isabella could do that well. Then, to discount my misconception, I witness the surgeon removing the amniotic sac from what is obviously a tiny healthy appearing boy. I will never find adequate words to describe the elation that overtook me in that precise moment. I remember leaning down as I held Ks hand and kissing her forehead, they look beautiful, Isabella is breathing... Tears streamed down her anxious face as we both tried to absorb what this all meant. The hours, days, and now weeks that followed have become one long blur with various moments of triumph vs. discouragement. Isabella has now moved out of NICU in her ongoing saga of one-upping her twin brother. Ashton is doing amazingly well also and is close behind his sister. Many prayers have gotten us this far, and God has shown us what taking a chance can accomplish when faith is preserved. Today as I visited our little miracles, I took notice of one of my all time favorite bible verses (simple as it is) that is displayed above the chapel entrance in the atrium of the hospital that we walk through every day we spend with the babies... Be still, and know that I am God... Before our journey here, while still in our work-home hospital at NEA Baptist in Jonesboro, AR, I remember many sleepless nights laying in the room with K and thinking about what all of this meant. So many scenarios playing through my mind. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Then one night as I lay there researching topics of premature babies... I felt a sense of peace come over me. The verse Psalms 46:10 came to me and I knew that I had to stop. I had to stop doubting. I had to stop with the endless research. God has a plan.... So I send this message today not only to thank you all for the countless prayers that continue to keep our ship afloat... But also to speak directly to those who are struggling with an overwhelming burden at this time. Early in our journey I posted a saying that has always inspired me -God gives us struggles to show us that some things are worth fighting for ... And when the struggle becomes too difficult, the weight too much to bear, lay it down. Be still. There is a plan that exceeds your understanding. Sometimes a chance is all you need. Sometimes 0-1% chance works out. Start with faith and see where the road leads. You may just be surprised :) Continued prayers for our little ones are greatly appreciated. God bless.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Oct 2014 06:47:43 +0000