The beginning 3.24.16

I don't know where to start Zoe's story, so I suppose the beginning is best. 

My husband Cody and I have been married almost 7 years. We moved to Birmingham in 2011 for graduate school at Samford. I currently serve in student ministry and work with an initiative to strengthen Biblical preaching. Cody is completing a residency in hospital administration. We stay busy :) 

Just before Christmas, Cody and I were surprised and excited to find out that I was pregnant. We had lost our first baby in the fall, and in many ways were still so heartbroken over the loss. We were grateful to God for this new life because we knew it was from HIM. (If you’ve experienced miscarriage, love someone who has, or just want to know how to minister to others well, I highly recommend Jessalyn Hutto’s book, An Inheritance of Tears. It is gospel-centered salve for the heart.)

Because of our miscarriage, I remember saying of the new pregnancy, "I know every day is a gift and not a guarantee!" I didn't know just how true that would be.

Early pregnancy went well; each time I was sick, I praised God because I thought that was a sign everything was okay. I was never so glad to feel miserable! We waited until I was 14 weeks to announce to the world that we were expecting, because we wanted to be sure all was well.

All of our family lives in Arkansas (woo pig!) and every schedule happened to work out for both sides of our families to come in for Easter weekend this year. We were so excited! I asked my wonderful doctor if I could have my 20 week ultrasound appointment a week early so that we might be able to have a gender reveal party with our family over the weekend. She kindly agreed, and I went to Pinterest for party plans!

The day of our ultrasound, Maundy Thursday, Cody and I were so excited that we could hardly stand it. As we sat in the waiting room, Cody prayed a sweet prayer and finished with the words, "Prepare us for whatever we may hear today." The Spirit was so kind in getting us ready for a storm we never saw coming.

With anxious joy, we walked into the ultrasound room. The sweet tech waved her wand over my belly and our sweet baby came onto the screen. The drumming of the heartbeat sounded strong and to us, everything looked just perfect. We watched in awe as our baby danced on the screen, while the tech took many different measurements. It is absolutely amazing to me that through the gift of technology, we can have a tiny window into the secret place, to see the life God is knitting together (Psalm 139:13-16). We were given a strip of photos from our time and happily floated out of the room to visit with the doctor.

I think my blood pressure was 101/63 or something while we waited for Dr. B; I could not have been more relaxed. She walked in the room and made some small talk which I don't really recall. Then she said something that I think I will hear for the rest of my life:

"I have some concerns."

In that moment, I could not have been more confused if someone had told me that I sprouted a lion's mane. She went on to say something about the bones measuring short and that she didn't know what it meant and she had already called a specialist and they were waiting on us downstairs right now. 

She ushered us out the back of the office (always a bad sign) and kindly rode the elevator down with us to the Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor's office. I kept repeating to Cody, "What is happening?" When we walked in the MFM office, the receptionist said "You must be Hayden." I felt a horrible sinking in my stomach at that moment and tears began welling up in my eyes. There was just something about her already knowing my name that communicated the gravity of the present situation.

Even in that moment, God was near. As I watched my sweet baby on another ultrasound screen, I prayed that the God who can make dry bones live (Ezekiel 37) would make short bones grow. 

It was a provision of God that the specialist would see us so quickly and consult with us while he was out of town. We met with him over the phone after he reviewed the images. He was very kind and asked what we knew. I said "We know that the bones are measuring short." He replied, "Ohh...there are many things wrong with your baby."

As he continued talking, I could only process bits of information...brain defect, heart defect, spine defect, not compatible with life. I felt dizzy and tears began streaming down my face. All I could say was Jesus. No other words, no other prayer, no other questions...just Jesus. 

We were left alone in the room for some time and I sobbed. Wailed may even be a better word. Our sweet tech came back in shared some encouragement with us about the nearness and goodness of God. It was a holy moment. We asked if she knew the gender of our baby...the thrill of surprise was too far gone. She told us we had been given a little girl. Cody somehow held his composure and scheduled a procedure for the next morning which we hoped would provide some answers.

We walked out of the office in a daze. I don't even remember getting to my car. It honestly felt like I was in a dream- a terrible dream that wouldn't end and I couldn't wake up. Cody and I walked in our house and collapsed on the couch in a heap of tears. After a little bit, we called my parents who were on their way to Birmingham for the weekend. We didn't want them to feel any pressure to come in light of the circumstances. They didn't hesitate. Cody's parents, who planned to leave the next morning, responded the same. God was so good to already have our parents coming during the time we would need them most.

I don't remember much of the rest of the night. I know that Cody read Matthew 26:36-46, a passage recording Jesus' time praying in Gethsemane. So much of that text resonated with our hearts. We felt such deep sorrow (v. 38) and prayed that this cup might pass us, but ultimately for God's will to be done (v. 39, 42). This year, we sat under the weight of Maundy Thursday in a new way. 

Simultaneously, the peace of God was so evident. I texted my brother and sister-in-law that night, “Broken hearts but we know that God is still good and this doesn’t take him by surprise. God even knows the deep pain of watching his own son die. Thankful we have a God who feels our deepest pain.” 

Praise God. Because Jesus lived, our God knows our pain. Because Jesus died, her death will be not be the final word. Because Jesus rose, she will rise. 

Soli deo Gloria.