We interrupt this story...

Our baby girl leaves a week from today.  There is much to be done to prepare for both her leaving and her Going Aweigh Party on Saturday.  I will return after all the dust has settled.

Prayers appreciated!

Story #3: About the boy they told me would be a girl

Let's just start there, shall we?  Let's just start at the very beginning.

Remember my plan, the plan to have four little girls?  They might've been named Meg, Beth, Jo, and Amy in my mind at least.  Christianne came along, just as planned.  And then I was pregnant again, just as planned. 

My pregnancy was uneventful, except that I was considered high risk as with Christianne because of gestational diabetes.  As I think I mentioned before, that meant monthly ultrasounds.  I had ultrasounds just about every four weeks the entire pregnancy, and since we were veterans now at that parenting thing, we decided with this child to learn the gender of the baby in advance.  (We were surprised with Chris, although remember, I had planned to have a girl, so I pretty much knew she would be a girl.)

Multiple ultrasounds.  Multiple echoes of the same verdict:  she's a girl!

I was given a baby shower, with lots of pink, and a pink girly-girl shower cake.  I got lots of dresses and cute little girly-girl outfits.

We had somewhat decided on a name (although not a spelling) ~ she would be Hayley or Hailey or Hayleigh or some variation of that.

Because she was due in May and Christianne had been born in May, it was perfect.  I got out all of Christianne's old baby clothes, washed them, and hung them in the closet.  Everything was sized correctly for the seasons, because, after all, I had planned this.

Often, the big sister-to-be would kiss her baby sister through my belly.  She would tell her Hailey/Hayley/Hayleigh that she loved her.  We had bonded with this new little girl and couldn't wait to meet her.

It was perfect.

My pregnancy began to wind down.  I was tired.  I was emotional.  I was hormonal and ready to be done.  I went in for the final ultrasound before the baby arrived at Kaiser in Lancaster.

The ultrasound tech had no personality and seemed bored with life. (I don't get that - how can you not be filled with awe and wonder seeing these developing babies every day?)  He was a nerdy-looking guy, with blond hair and glasses, and he spoke in a monotone, when he spoke at all.  He went about his business capturing images, measuring, and making notes.  Trying to lighten things up a bit, I asked, "She's still a girl, right?"

"Um, nope."

What?!  Wait, WHAT?

And then this guy deadpanned, "Not unless she grew a tail."

Oh my word.  What just happened?

Now many would think this was just not a big deal, but I lost it.  I bawled.  It *was* a big deal to me.  I felt like, in a single moment, the little girl I had bonded with for months was just... gone.  Remember:  I was emotional, tired, and I. had. planned. this.

I was having a boy?

I had no idea how to be a mom to a boy.  I had never planned for it!  I didn't have boy names picked out.  I hadn't researched circumcision.  I didn't know how to teach them to pee standing up.  I knew nothing.  And I will admit, it knocked the wind right out of me.

I still didn't believe I was having a boy when I was sent to the hospital a short time later to induce labor.  We went through baby name books while I was being admitted, just in case.  (Although I love the name Joshua because it means "the Lord saves," I might not have chosen it if I had known how popular it was.)  And even when that large-headed precious bundle of joy came out of me, my first question was, "Is it really a boy?"

Those dresses in the closet?  Packed back up.  Gifts from the shower?  Returned. 

Man plans, and God laughs.

But He does know best.  He knows better than I do.  His plans are better than my plans, every single time.  And how I love this boy, this man-child of mine who is 16 now, this person who seems to get me, I think, more than the others do.  This boy, who is growing up so quickly and maturing into someone I am so incredibly proud of... this boy is a gift. 

They are all gifts, of course.  But this one is different.  It was wrapped in blue.  It was not what I had asked for, and yet it has brought me more joy than I could have imagined.

Thank You, Abba Father, for this boy.

That girl, today

This is about the fourth  seventh time I've started this post.  Technical issues abound.  Agh!  And I was gone a few days while we took our last camping trip with Christianne.  Thanks for your patience!  Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...

I have so many thoughts in my head right now that I don't know where to begin.  Whenever I have a glimpse of Grace doing something wonderful, which is often, I am amazed, especially when my thoughts are reminded of that first bump in our pregnancy. 

And she is pretty amazing.  She has studied taekwondo now for three years and has earned a high blue belt and has a goal to be a black belt before she's 12.  She is intelligent and witty, and developing very nicely in our family's love language of sarcasm.  She is her sister's mini-me in several ways, takes after her brother in others, and still is her own unique little person.  She is charming.  Polite.  She loves the Lord and loves to sing.  She will belt worship songs from the top of her lungs whether watching her guinea pig in the back yard or sitting on a boulder on a camping trip or in the front row of church.  She completely changed our lives and I can't imagine life without her.

I adore this little girl.

Bump #2

Being considered a high risk pregnancy (first because of my age, and next because of gestational diabetes) has its blessings.  I do not make light of the fact that complications can occur because of the factors that got me lumped into that group, but as those did not come to fruition in my pregnancy (any of them, actually), I was able to sit back and enjoy seeing glimpses of my baby each month via ultrasound.

I don't think there is a woman alive who is looking forward to holding her baby soon that doesn't love to have an ultrasound.  The sound of her beating heart, a glimpse of tiny fingers... it's a joy, especially when you have one each month as I did, to see the development and growth of your child.

For some reason I was sent to Panorama City for my routine ultrasound in February 2005.  And because Robert, who worked for Kaiser at the time, was in Palmdale, he couldn't come with me.  I think it was the only prenatal appointment he had to miss in all three pregnancies.

The sonogram department at Kaiser in PC is a bit archaic.  After you are called from the waiting room, you go into the dressing room, which is separated by gender.  Fine.  Then you take off your top and bra and put on a gown, and sit on a bench with other like-dressed women until they call your name.  It's so odd to be sitting there with half a dozen other half-dressed, but gowned, women, mostly pregnant like yourself, waiting to be called into the ultrasound room.  Did I mention that it is in the basement of a very old building, which makes it feel cold and even a little dank? 

Didn't matter.  I was about to see my baby again.

The sonogram began in typical fashion:  greetings and smiles, and chit chat about the pregnancy, but shortly in the sonographer got a little quiet.  She did show me the baby ~ everything looked good to my untrained eyes ~ and took a kazillion pictures.  Then she told me I should go home and "take it easy" and my doctor would be in touch.

Yeah, no.  It was one of those moments where you know something is wrong, but the person won't tell you what ~ or can't, as it were, because of all those silly medical rules.

Initial diagnosis:  placenta previa.

We were sent back to Panorama City about a week later to have a second ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis.  We ~ meaning Robert was there.  Sort of.  Once I was called into the dressing room, he had to wait out in the main room.  I'm telling you, this system is really strange!

I was called back, and had the same sonographer.  I don't recall being overly anxious; I just felt like if that was what it was, we would deal with it.  Perhaps it meant bed rest or light activity; perhaps it meant a C-section.  Whatever.  We would deal.

The sonographer did her exam and quietly confirmed her diagnosis.  I asked her if my husband could come in and see the baby.  She told me no, that they were very behind and given the set-up, it was more difficult to bring him back.  "Aw, man," I remember telling her. "He'll be so disappointed.  He didn't get to come last week because he was working.  He works, you know, for Kaiser..."

The magic words.  It would be a few minutes so she cleaned the drying jelly off my belly and went to get him.  A few minutes later, he stood at my left shoulder with his hand on my tummy for several minutes while she went to work getting all her equipment ready again.  He was silent.  He was praying.

She began the ultrasound, pointing out an arm here, a leg there, on the screen for us to see.  Then she stopped talking altogether.  Her camera zipped around my belly as she focused intently on the screen.

"I made a mistake," she announced a moment later.  "There is no placenta previa."

"How could you have made a mistake?" I asked gently.  I still couldn't help but smile.

"It happens," she said.

"No," I said.  You did an ultrasound a week ago and thought we had placenta previa.  You just did a more extensive ultrasound a few minutes ago confirming that!  You did not make a mistake!  You witnessed a miracle.  My husband has been beside me praying for the last several minutes.  This was no mistake ~ God intervened."

She dismissed it!  She blew me off.  She would rather admit (to a patient even!) that she made a mistake ~ apparently twice ~ than acknowledge that our God is loving and gracious and involved in our lives. 

Loving and gracious, and with a plan for this little one inside me.  His story in her life began even before she was born.