The pep talk wore off. I read more and more and my imagination took me to believe that the tests done on Walker were wrong, and my baby did have Trisomy 13, and all babies with Trisomy 13 die. I had had three easy pregnancies, three healthy babies, and now my "luck" had run out.
The idea of luck is something that I think can be hard to give up, as you grow more dependent on Christ. I was never a particularly superstitious person - I didn't think. But I still sometimes realize that I am more superstitious than I like to think I am, for instance, when I have a foreboding dream, or get that "feeling" that something bad is going to happen. Now God can (occasionally) speak to us in dreams, and I believe strongly in maternal instinct. But. I don't know about y'all, but 99% of the time my dreams and weird feelings have more to do with my hormones than with Holy Spirit. And healthy or unhealthy babies are a result of a loving God's sovereignity, and have absolutely nothing to do with "luck."
So my imagination was up to no good. Ingram had been such a strong kicker that I had nicknamed him Pele, after the soccer player. In January, I had gone two days without feeling a real good kick. All of my babies had pulled this before, so I know that they sometimes just take a rest. But this time was different. The second morning I went to an appointment that was about 30 minutes away. The entire drive up there, he was still. I was there for an hour, and he was still. During the drive back, I poked, and prodded, and eventually hit my tummy, in a desperate attempt to wake him up. He remained still. I drove straight to the hospital and my doctor's office (remember, I had just switched to one five minutes from home) and tearfully told the receptionist that I had not felt my baby in two days.
They were absolutely wonderful, and immediately led me back and within minutes I was having an ultrasound. "There he is, Mom, he's fine," the tech said. "He just waved at you, did you see that? He's fine." I burst into tears. She looked at my doctor and said, "I think the cord issue has freaked her out." Um, yeah. Understatement. I left with my sense of embarrassment only overshadowed by my sense of relief.
The next day, at 5:00pm, my friend Erin called out of the blue. She told me that Angela Thomas was doing a woman's conference at her church, and she had a free ticket, did I want to come? Erin and I had done Angela's Living Your Life as a Beautiful Offering bible study together a couple of years ago and I had no plans, so I said sure. Maybe God would tell me something through her message.
At this same time, I had just discovered a book called Creative Correction, and was gushing about it to everyone. I have read countless books on discipline and this one is by far my favorite. It was written by Lisa Whelchel, you know, Blair from The Facts of Life (you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have...) When I read her book I would tell Walker, "I like her. I want to be friends with her. She needs to move in next door to me!" She is very funny and real and I like the way she thinks. She also had three babies in three years, and anyone who did that and lived to tell the tale....just let me get a pen and paper and I will do whatever you say.
So I go, and Angela comes out and starts her talk and mentions that her very best friend is there with her, and her name is Lisa...and you might know her as Blair from Facts of Life. AHHHH!! My new hero!! She's here!!
After the lesson (which I had a hard time focusing on) I got to go and meet her and I told her that seeing her was such a blessing at the end of a hard, hard week. She asked what was wrong, and when I told her I cried, because the wind blowing would make me cry at that point. And then Lisa Whelchel laid her hands on my belly and prayed for baby Ingram. I remember she said, "Next week, when the ultrasound shows that this baby is just fine, remind Missy of this very moment and that you are abundantly in control." Such a sweet, sweet serendipity that God sent me, at the end of a really crummy week! And a reminder of how in control of both Ingram's life and mine our sweet Father is.
We finally went into the perinatologist for the ultrasound. I looked at all the pregnant women in the waiting room, all accompanied by their husbands, and thought how we were all so afraid for these little people we had never seen with our eyes, but already loved so deeply. The doctor looked up and down Ingram's little forming body extensively and pronounced him fine. She wanted me to come in for further ultrasounds, but right now, he looked just fine. A complete stranger, yet mysteriously a sister, popped in my mind, telling me that God was in control of this baby he loved even more than I did - a million times more than I did.
I laid on the table with the goop all over my tummy, one hand in the hand of my husband's, and watched the fuzzy images of my baby on the screen, with the song going through my mind just like it had been all week long - His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.
Part 3 to come...Ingram's birth story part 1
Ingram's birth story part 2
Ingram's birth story part 3
Ingram's birth story part 4