Life is happening at an incredible rate of warp speed, I hear it going on, people running all around, a blur of busyness and purpose.... and here I am, feeling increasingly like a mama pigeon, sitting on her nest, keeping this little egg safe, watching the Daddy pigeon forage for food to drop into my open, upturned mouth.
It's been two and a half weeks now since I entered the hospital, a two hour drive from our home, after hemorrhaging and thinking our baby had been lost. I still have a massive blood clot taking up half of my uterus, and I continue to contract while losing some of the blood, little bits at a time, but our little warrior baby is strong, holding on tight. With each day that passes, I feel this little kicker moving more, and I smile at the goodness of our God. I am on bed-rest, with my hand on my belly, waiting and trusting, learning and being held. Life has not stopped: so much is changing, so much growth is happening in the waiting. My incredible friend, Katie, has traveled from Indonesia to spend some time with me in the hospital, and I feel so humbled and blessed as she serves and loves me.
God is speaking that I must learn to be held while other people love me so beautifully--not something I am good at, I admit. I must learn to rest, because it is in my resting that this lovely baby is allowed to grow. I must trust, because the hand that holds us both is not letting go, and never has.
My mind is on my Mama as I lay here, my eyes all wet as I think of her. I'm missing her more as my maternal emotions wash over me, and I imagine her sitting here holding my hand, making me laugh, forcing food down my throat.
God is peeling back more layers of grief, as I lay on my bed of waiting, whispering that I do not need to be afraid, He is not waiting to steal things from me--His character makes it impossible--He is good, even when the immediate reality looks anything but good. There is a tapestry of hope that is spread out in front of me, and I cannot see the end. This moment is one thread that is being perfectly interwoven by a hand that does not waver.
Excitement is rising as I possibly may be able to go home today. The doctors are looking at me sternly, making sure I will not be naughty, but continue to be on complete bedrest if I am released. It feels a little like Christmas to think of snuggling with my baby and laying in my own bed.
We will continue to travel back and forth for ultrasounds and monitoring every two weeks or so until this bloodclot is gone.
So, thank you, amazing friends, for continuing to journey with us, to be on your knees for us, and to love us so well. We are so thankful for you.
Francis, Leah, Julia, and little one Daytec