For all the days that I fall short...

Dearest Mercy,

This morning you broke an oil lamp. I turned around to wash some dishes thinking all was baby proofed to-the-max, only to hear the smashing of glass right by your soft little baby feet. Thankfully you scared yourself motionless and didn't step in it - but baby girl, mama got scared. I'm sorry I didn't push the lamp away further. And for the many other times I have and will fall short.

Some mornings I wake up determined to make the most out of the hours before its bed time all over again. Some mornings despite the nausea, we read and play as best we can until the calm of the afternoon allows for us to go on our walk and see all of the community puppies.

Some mornings, though, I wake up feeling as if though I've not slept a wink. I want to curl into a little ball and snooze, have a moment to check my email, and look at my phone.

I'm sorry for the days that I don't think to put you first. Even for those brief moments. For those mornings where my face should be watching you and not behind my phone screen. For missing the proud smile on your face when you triumphantly take steps without tipping over & make it to where you wanted to go. For simply not paying attention when I should be.  For not savoring each and every moment, as I should, cause you're growing so fast, and time flies, and this isn't going to be this way forever. I want to remember it all.

Romans 3:23 says that all of us have sinned and fall short. Every single person. Including mama. The beauty in falling short, sweet baby girl, is that there's grace and redemption in Christ. That what we can't do perfectly - He can. He does. He is. He's perfect.

I'm so thankful for you. Thankful that you constantly remind me of this amazing truth. And that you love me so good - without knowing it. 

A letter from daddy - just because!

Dear Mercy,

I'm your daddy and so I get more kisses than any other man on the face of the earth! At least for now! 

The truth is, with mom pregnant, when people ask me if I want the baby to be a boy or a girl, I always say, "a girl" because my time with you has been so sweet.

I love when you growl and then halfway through, break into a laugh, with your little spaced out front teeth showing in their shiny brilliance.

I love that you love doggies and kitties, but doggies most of all. And how when you see one you make high pitched doggie sounds.

I love that you're becoming more cuddly and laying your head on me almost constantly. 

You are my little half-pint, and I hope you are for the long haul, even when I don't look like who I look like now. You're my sweetheart forever!

Love,

Daddy

your story - coming home!

Dearest Mercy, 

It's been a long while since I've written you a letter. I've told myself to write so many times and put it off, over and over again. I think part of me feels overwhelmed when I think of putting my experience with you into words. Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes I worry that I might leave things out. I don't want to forget. And I want you to know how very special you are - from before you were even born. So here it is baby girl. Today, I'm going to tell you about the day you finally came home with Mama and Daddy. 

Lots of things had to happen for you to be able to come home. You had to gain weight consistently, take bottle feeds 100%, be able to sleep in an open crib and lastly, no more spells. When you had spells, your heart rate and oxygen would drop rapidly. That monitor alarm always made my heart race and this last hurdle would take the longest for you to pass. We couldn't quite shake the spells. Anyone who knows anything knows that coordinating breathing and swallowing milk is NO easy task. You had to learn it. It took time. and that was okay. The nurses kept saying "maybe tomorrow" but when tomorrow came, they weren't sure you were ready to leave those monitors just yet. Until the day you were. 

On September 17th, Daddy and I came to the NICU for the very last time. The only home you'd ever known besides Mama's belly wouldn't be your home anymore. You should know that we were so very happy and at the same time...I was absolutely terrified. 

I found comfort in the familiar sounds of the little room that had been yours for 63 days. I was confident that you were totally fine under the watch of professionals, who knew exactly what to do in any situation. I knew that should you stop breathing, the monitor which I had grown dependent on during your bottle feeds, would immediately alert me and I could act to stimulate you back to catching your little breath. And just like that, the comfort was gone. You were ours now. We would be the monitor. We would have to know what to do should anything happen and our silent alarms would have to go off should you stop breathing. The nurses reassured me that I knew exactly what to do. So we took you off of your wires and dressed you from head to toe in normal - premie - baby clothes. Even premie clothes were big on you, but dang, you looked SO sweet. This was the first time that your feet would be covered. For 63 days there was a little monitor on your foot. It was finally off and you would feel the comfort of warm, cozy footies.

After being walked through (multiple times) what to do, how to administer your vitamins, how to add the extra formula to my milk to help you gain weight, and the million other things a parent needs to know before walking out of the hospital doors for the last time. Your nurse, Barbara, told me we were going to be fine. And I knew that she was right.

I didn't think that all was going to be fine because we knew what we were doing. I knew that bigger than our hands was the hand of God helping us along. Strengthening us when we needed it most. Picking us up when we stumbled. And keeping you alive. I knew that The Lord was in control of everything up to that moment, and He would be in control of everything after it. His plans, they're better than ours. Everything that happens and will happen...ever...is for our good and  His glory. We had our Father, helping us parent you. And mama also had daddy's hand, physically there when I needed mine to be held.

On September 17th. You went outside for the very first time. The air was cool and there was a light breeze. You took your first breaths of fresh air. You heard sounds that your quiet NICU room had never let you hear. Finally, sweet Mercy girl, you came home. 

It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:8

Happy Birthday!

Dearest Mercy,

You're one, my little blueberry. You've surpassed medicine's and our expectations of how well & far you would come. You've developed and grown beautifully. Beyond it. I'm amazed. You amaze me. The way you brave up and stand on your little feet with no help from me and fearlessly take the tumble down shows me that, besides your looks, you've got a lot of daddy in that heart of yours. The way you're shy around unfamiliar faces and cling to me also shows me that I'm in there too.  I am so very thankful for the privilege to love you and hear you call me mama. I'm thankful for your sweet smile, the way you put your head on my shoulder, and belly laugh the days away. You bring me so much joy and fill me with more love than I knew I was capable of feeling. You teach me everyday - to stop and enjoy the small things. To get up when I fall, and smile about it. You show me my ugly parts too. My impatience, my selfishness, my not so pleasant attitudes. Though you show me all of those things,  most importantly you point me to our Heavenly Father. You point me to his death and sacrifice. His unfailing love.  You remind me that all of the good I do is by His grace and that where I fall short He does not. I'm so incredibly thankful for you. When I think about you - everything you've been through, I cry. It never fails. Little girl, you are so small and yet you move me to tears. With every stride you take I rejoice. God has been so good. So many people have prayed for you and you are living proof that those prayers have been mercifully answered. You keep leaping. Take jumps. And I'll catch you if you start to fall. Mama loves you, sweet girl. Happy first birthday! 

Love, 

Mama

A letter from Daddy - 11 months

Dear Mercy, 

This morning I had a dream that you fell off the ironing board. We were on someones front lawn. I turned and saw you all alone up there on your high perch from about fifty yards away. I just started running, anticipating that you might fall. Sure enough, you were trembling as you managed to stand up in place on the board, only to do a backwards swan-dive off of it onto the grass. I dove onto the ground as if to recover a fumble! I scooped you up. You were howling like a baby coyote, but you were O.K. What the heck inspired such a dream!?

Listen, Half Pint. It is in fact true that Daddy wishes he could be home with Mama all day so that he could spend more time with you. Sometimes I feel like you don't smile as much at me or aren't as familiar with me because Daddy has a long commute into Boston and then back again, which is about three hours of driving and training. But I know that as you develop, as you are doing so beautifully, that you will see that Daddy is doing all of this for God and to make a brighter future for all of us. Don't hold it against me, and please, please, PLEASE, don't dive off of any high perches when Mama and Daddy aren't looking. And just for the record, you are never, ever. allowed on the ironing board! 

Happy 11th month in the world! 

Love, 

Daddy Bear. 

your story - the NICU

Dearest Mercy, 

If home is where the heart is, then on July 24th my home became the NICU. My everyday was there, beside you, reading to you while you slept, skin to skinning every opportunity I had, talking to nurses about your progress, sending daddy pictures and updates to make his work day just a little sweeter, crying because you overwhelmed me with love, crying because I felt bad that you weren't home with me where you should've been, crying cause you were alive and well, sleeping beside you because I was so dang tired from pumping throughout the night, and throughout the day so that you were never lacking for milk. All day, everyday, I was there. The nurses encouraged me to go home and sleep because they told me that I wouldn't sleep a wink in your room with you. They were right and I took their advice. 

During your 56 day stay at the NICU you were hooked up to monitors that told us your heart rate and oxygen levels at all times. If there was ever a dip...and there were many, the monitor immediately told us. Sometimes the dip was quick and you came back by yourself. Other times, especially when we were teaching you to drink from a bottle, you needed a little bit of stimulation from mama or your nurse. We would rub your back and move you around to get your heart rate back up. 

The first few weeks of your life, you had caffeine going into your system to help keep your heart rate where it should be. You had a little bit of extra oxygen (though you were breathing on your own), an IV, and a feeding tube that went through your little button nose. Mercy. You were SO tiny. I was afraid to touch you. Your little body looked so frail but so cute. the cutest. When we skinned to skinned you often had the hiccups and made a clicking noise with your lips. you always nestled up on mama and slept until your nurse came in for care times - you always cried when they took you off of me. i nearly did too. 

Your nurses were amazing. They thoroughly updated me, encouraged me that you were far more resilient than you looked and made me do things when I was too afraid to do them. They gave me the push I needed. Making me more confident in them, and at the same time, more confident in myself.

Your daddy changed your first diaper! I sat and watched as daddy's big hands maneuvered through the two arm holes in your little warm giraffe bed (temperature controlled to keep your body as warm as it needed to be since you couldn't regulate your own temperature) and gently...cautiously, worked to change you. Your dad, he's a brave one, you see. :)

You had minor setbacks in the NICU, your weight loss, though normal, scared me. Because you started off at 3 lbs 3 oz, when you dipped into the lower 2's....it broke my heart. You plateaued for a bit, and then, you started to gain. An answered prayer. PRAISE GOD! Your white blood cell count was high for a few weeks and we couldn't figure out why. We prayed. The issue cleared up on it's own. Another prayer answered. You had a jaundice and looked like you were tanning in tanning bed on and off for weeks. On those days we couldn't skin to skin, so I'd sit and read to you, sleep near you and dreamily stare at you for hours. There were so many people praying for you, people you've never met. People you may never meet. but they prayed and the Lord was kind and answered their prayers-- our prayers. You quickly started improving.

One of your nurses, Coleen, told me that you were regulating your temperature like a baby older than you and that soon you would be out of the Giraffe, into a lower level bed. Shortly after, you were. You tolerated your feeds well and we soon started giving you bottles. Progress was slow with feeds. We had to find a bottle that worked best for you. You had to learn to coordinate breathing and swallowing. Your physical therapist came in and worked with me and the nurses to find what feeding position worked best for you, how to pace your feed best and to answer any questions I had. 

The scariest, most dreadful sound in your room was the sound of the monitor alarm when your heart rate and oxygen dropped. Sometimes randomly, sometimes because of a feed, sometimes because you were very tired And each time it sounded my heart sank, it broke, it made knots in my stomach. It happened almost every day. Sometimes, a few times a day. Daddy dreaded the alarm as well. I understood why the nurses told us to sleep at home. It was because any sound your monitor made got our hearts racing and gave us no rest. We were thankful for the sleep we got. 

Well, I sort of slept. I had to wake up every three hours to pump, store the milk, and clean everything for the next pump session. When I spent my days in your room, I tried to nap but stayed awake most of the time, partially because of that monitor and the constant nurse vists, but mostly because I wanted to see you. You were so sweet to look at. SO beautiful. It was something every nurse said as soon as they saw you. They told me you were beautiful and they weren't just saying it. I knew it to be true but I loved to hear it. 

Mama didn't take the best care of herself while you were in the NICU. Because I spent most of my time in your room with you, skin to skinning as much as possible because it was best for you, I didn't eat as much or as often as I should've. If I missed a skin to skin session opportunity I felt intense guilt for not being able to give you that which you needed most. The nurses encouraged skin to skin between care times. That meant, every three hours, you got a diaper change, blood pressure and your temperature checked. They wanted me to be there for that as often as I could. I also had to pump before holding you AND eat in a very short amount of time to be able to hold you until your next care time. Sometimes, I just couldn't find the balance. I ate the same hospital cafeteria food for so long that I began to get tired of it. Thankfully, grandma and grandpa often came to visit with good food, and usually ice-cream or dessert as well. How thankful I am for them, who loved us so well when we needed it most. I lost a lot of weight during this time. The pumping, the exhaustion, the not eating enough. It wasn't good. Daddy really began to encourage me to eat as much as I could and asked me throughout the day what I had eaten, as if to remind me without reminding me. 

I remember the day I walked into your room and found you in a totally open bed. August 17th. Bundled as can be but in normal room temperature! I gasped a LOUD gasp and ran into the hallway to get your dad. I was so excited and so in shock to see you laying in there. You'd finally graduated, to a real baby bed environment and I was full of joy to see that you were doing so well-- they thought you were ready and you were! The nurse told me that if you couldn't handle it you could go back into your warm little closed nook, but you did handle it. You were a fighter from the day you were born, little one.

The requirements for to come home were: gain weight, be able to sleep in room temperature, to take all of your feeds by bottle and no more spells. 
You were gaining weight. 
You were sleeping in an open crib. 
And now our main focus would be your feeds. 
The spells would lessen, with time and patience. 

On August 30th, my mom came to visit with your auntie Andreea and uncle Alex. On August 30th we walked into your room and your feeding tube had been removed. All of your feeds would be bottle feeds from this point on! Later on this day you would also take your very first bath. Things were happening baby girl! big things! 

During our stay in the NICU, the Lord was continuing to do the work He started in me. This season was molding me a little more, shaping me. Painfully and slowly but it was happening. I had no choice but to trust in the Lord more and more as I saw how little control I had. I had to trust the Lord with the nurses who were caring for you when I was not there. Trust that your heart rate would come back up during a spell, and that mine would start beating again each time it froze in fear at the sound of that alarm. I had to take care of my body, the temple that He dwells in. I had to confess my weakness, my fear, my anxiety. My pride. I had to confess time and time again that I worried because I thought I could control things better. That I knew better. I had to go before the grace throne and ask for peace and comfort when I wanted to have you home with me and couldn't. I saw the Lord's sovereign hand. I saw prayers answered. Slowly getting molded. Painfully. Falling short and getting picked up again by His abundant grace and you, your name, reminded me of His mercies anew. What a beautiful thing...to be reminded of His mercy poured out on me, on us, every time I looked at you. 

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." - Lamentations 3:22-24

September 17th - You came home! 

A letter from Daddy

My dear, 

You gave mom and dad quite a scare. Three pounds and dipping down into the high twos. Your legs like spindles. Your belly looked swollen, but not like after thanksgiving dinner. Now you’re a juicy pear, with cheeks of rouge covered in fuzz! What a difference nine months and milk on tap makes! I am so proud of you. You little fighter, you. 

I’ll tell you what else. You continue to scare me. Sometimes I get afraid that you’ll flip over in the crib and get caught up. I hear a whimper at half past three, and I know I’m being foolish. I get up anyway. I have to make sure. You are mine, and nothing is going to happen to you. Not on my watch.  

Truthfully, I’m surprised I love you this much. Before you came I used to think about how I would love you and take care of you, but I had no idea how special to me you would become. When you came home I became so interested in you that I would sit and just stare at you. And it never gets old. It’s a strange thing to look at another person and see yourself. And not any of shadier things I know about me. In your face, I see the best of me.  

Most of all, I can’t wait for you to talk to me. I want you to tell me you love me. I will dissolve in tears on that day. To have my love for you reciprocated. I know that God feels great pleasure when we tell him we love him. Though I am not much like God, I will share in this Fatherly pleasure.

I love you half-pint. 

Love, 

Daddy. 

your story - the day we met

Dearest Mercy,

The first time I saw you, I couldn't believe how tiny and beautiful you were. I carried you for 30 weeks, and now, finally, I was looking at you. 

On July 23rd, early in the morning, contractions started. At first I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was a contraction but I soon realized that the regular tightening in my belly was the real deal. Again, I found myself in the labor room. All set up and ready for a baby to be delivered. Even though I was having regular contractions, the doctors tried their hardest to stop the labor because even at 6 centimeters dilated, it was possible to keep you in longer. Once again, mama got pumped with a heavy dose of magnesium that doubly served as a muscle relaxer for me and important brain protection for you. After hours of being in the labor room with more irregular contractions and no further dilation, I was sent back upstairs to the antenatal floor to rest. This time it was different. The contractions didn't totally go away. Whenever I walked to the bathroom, I had a contraction. Whenever I moved, I had a contraction. They offered me an epidural- I said no. I sent daddy home that evening to get a good night's sleep and told him that if I called, his ringer had better be on loud because I needed him there for the delivery. That night the contractions got way worse and no painkiller they gave me worked. The morphine made me sleepy but it did nothing to prevent pain. This time was different. I was going to meet you. I knew it. 

Seven centimeters. I didn't need a whole ten to give birth- you were tiny. 

As I was getting wheeled down to the labor room (for the last time), I called your daddy who answered the phone by saying: "IS IT TIIIIIIME?" The wee hours of the morning didn't hide the excitement in his voice. Though you should've had another 10 weeks in my belly, we were ready; so ready to finally meet you. The day had finally come!

The labor was painful. The specialists were in the room, ready for anything that could potentially be an issue with you. I cried. I breathed through the contractions. I refused an epidural. Your daddy held my hand, told me I was doing a good job and didn't say much else (it was for the better). Excruciating pain is an understatement. Once my water broke it was all very fast. 24 hours of labor. A handful of pushes. And then I heard it. You were crying. You were breathing on your own. 

I didn't see you right away because I was crying too hard. I was tired and relieved and happy, so happy. You were breathing on your own and it was such a miracle. You were checked, put in a nice cozy incubator and brought to my bedside so that I could see you.

Your skin, so pink & covered in a layer of soft blonde fuzz. Your nose, a perfect button. Your toes, tinier than I could ever have imagined. Your lips, perfectly plump. You looked like your papa. You were there. Mercy Heritage. 3 lbs 3 oz. Alive. Breathing. Mine. 

The few moments after you were born didn't go the way I had planned.  Of course--I had a plan. You would come out and be placed right on my chest. We would skin to skin. I would whisper sweet little stories to you while you slept peacefully on mama. These would be our special moments. Once again, my plans weren't what the Lord had planned for me. I only saw you for a few seconds before you were whisked away to your NICU room to settle and have a few more tests done. Over the next two months of your NICU stay, we would have lots of special time together to make up for those first moments we never got to have. 

I'd only known you for a few seconds. I'd never held you. But my heart was bursting through the seams with  love for you. John 1:16 says "From the fulness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another." You were already blessing us more than you could know, by just being alive-- by doing far better than we had dared to hope. Isaiah 59:1 says "Behold, the LORD'S hand is not shortened, that it cannot save or his ear dull, that it cannot hear;" The next two months, though beautiful, would be hard. We would bring you before the Lord in prayer every day & He would hear our prayers. 

your story - bed rest

Dearest Mercy,

Let mama tell you, bed rest is exhausting. It's so hard! When I was told that I would spend the remainder of my pregnancy on bed rest I thought, YES! reading Jane Austen, eating cookies, watching Home and Garden Television, kicking my feet up and sleep--lots of sleep. right? Wrong. so very wrong. Bed rest was one of the most, if not, the most trying things I've ever experienced emotionally, spiritually and physically. 

June 19th, 2014 - my first day on bed rest. 

Initially, it seemed easy. After all, I just had to lay down and keep you in my belly for as long as I possibly could. The hospital brought me a menu every day and I got to choose my breakfast, lunch and dinner. The first few meals were delicious! Pancakes in the morning, soup and grilled cheese in the afternoon, chicken for dinner. I couldn't have imagined that hospital food could taste so good! Not only was I fed well, but I was entertained! Home and Garden television was on for large chunks of the day. There could be no greater relief, living in a hospital cube, than to watch couples searching for their new dream home. But even more satisfying, was when I would have visitors. Real faces. Real conversations. Real encouragement. 

Every other day, a nurse came in and changed my bedding. The linens were always crispy fresh. I had an IV in my arm and was only allowed to go to the bathroom, then back to bed. If I wanted to take a shower, daddy or grandma had to help me, and I had to be sitting down for that too. I only sat up to eat. Mama was laying down with the pink giraffe grandma bought for you for most of the day, everyday.  You see, I was not just battling my own body to keep you in. I was battling gravity. Gravity was pushing you down, and my thin cervix was not helping keep you in. Laying down flat was the only thing I could do. Every three hours a nurse came in and monitored me. We listened for your heart beat, my blood pressure was taken, and we looked for contractions. Every three hours was not so bad--at first. 

One exciting thing that happened during the first few days of my hospital stay was that on June 21, I felt you hiccuping and heard it on the monitor! The nurse encouraged me, telling me that you were strengthening your lungs and that it was good practice. Every time you got the hiccups I sat there happily and soaked them in. Throughout our time together in the hospital, your little hiccups kept me encouraged and gave me hope! I knew you were okay. I was glad that you were strengthening those little lungs. I was happy you were still in my belly. every minute. every hour. every day gained, counted...so very much because it was time you needed to develop a little bit more. 

Not all of bed rest was so pleasant. The meals, though they were good, started getting old and as I ate the same thing over and over, I began to dread meal times. When daddy and/or grandma and grandpa brought me food it was SO good. As time passed, I grew more and more tired of the food. I felt guilty because I knew that I should be thankful and grateful to be eating food that was nourishing my body and you, but I became discouraged and my attitude was not always one that I am proud of.

One of the nurses, my favorite nurse, Jane, told me how to order food that was in the cafeteria but not on the menu. She told me all of the best meals to order, snacks that were available and called down for me when my order was incorrect. I am and will always be grateful for Jane. Sweet, spunky Jane. 

After laying down for weeks, my muscles began to atrophy(they were getting weaker from not being used). I was told to move my legs around in bed, to keep my blood circulating so that I wouldn't get blood clots. Special boots were ordered for my legs that would tighten and then loosen to help keep the blood flowing while I was sleeping. When I walked to the bathroom, my legs gave. I began to get dizzy after short walks to the bathroom and back. My body was weak and I was discouraged because I knew I had the ability to get up and move. I could walk if I wanted to. But because you needed more time, laying down was a sacrifice mama had to make. When my condition was stable, my IV was removed and I was allowed to shower.     

I struggled spiritually during my laying down time. I felt discouraged at times and had a bad attitude other times. I grumbled in my heart. I worried. I missed my church family. I missed hearing sermons and praising God in song. I missed my family. I felt like the world and everyone in it was moving forward and I was stuck. The summer was passing me by and I was watching through the window. I realized my own selfishness more than I ever had before, and it brought me to tears. I'm sure the hormones didn't help. I was downright unpleasant sometimes. Thank the Lord for your daddy who loved me despite my whirlwind of emotions. Your daddy who pointed me to the grace of Christ by loving me when I was hard to love. Your daddy who reminded me of the Gospel. I was especially thankful for the Word. 

During this time, mama began to read the book of Job. Job lost everything, Mercy. E v e r y t h i n g he had. He lost his health, his home, his children, his wife told him to curse God and die. Yet he held on to the Lord. He didn't speak against the Lord. He trusted in the Lord.  He worshipped the Lord. He praised Him. WOW. What an amazing understanding of God. Job understood that God is sovereign. He knew God. That God is good, kind and loving. That God gives us all that we have and can take it all away because He owes nothing to us. I prayed to be like Job. To praise my heavenly Father in the midst of storm and hardship. I prayed to trust Him fully. I prayed for joy no matter what. I prayed for peace that passes all understanding. God heard my prayers and I had peace. Through discouragement, I had peace. Though I was bed ridden I was happy. I thought of you over myself. I began to write letters to to encourage others. I started reading more and even painting. I wrote a particular verse down. I remembered it. I thought about it. I prayed it. I needed to trust in the Lord. 

"Though He say me, I will hope in Him"

 Job 13:15

You, little girl; the situation, the early labor, bed rest...It had to happen. It was good. If for no other reason, it helped teach me to fully put my trust in the Lord. 

Some specific days I want to remember are:

June 30: My first wheel chair ride! Daddy took me for a spin around the hospital and outside for some fresh air!

July 5: My second wheel chair ride followed by falling asleep to fire works right outside of my hospital window.

July 7: My first walk around the hospital floor with daddy, holding my hand. 

your story - in my belly

Dearest Mercy, 

I've been wondering how to start this letter, and as I sit and watch you in your sweet slumber, I will start at the very beginning of you. On January 21, 2014 (exactly one month after daddy and I got married) I found out that I was pregnant. We were so happy that our love so very quickly spilled over and that your life was now growing in my belly. The Bible says "Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Psalm 127:3." What a reward! Our very own baby, conceived out of love in a God glorifying marriage--half daddy/half mama. Not long after finding out about your growing little self, I started feeling pretty  very sick . Daddy was such a trooper bringing me whatever foods I was craving and always telling me that I was doing a great job, that the nausea would pass & was all worth it when I got really sick. Though my nausea lasted long into my second trimester, when it finally passed it was wonderful. I was SO excited to be a pregnant lady and wear my belly proudly. As my belly grew, you grew and your soft movements that only felt like flutters became strong elbows&kicks that I could see and feel-- Oh, how I loved every second of it. One thing that I will always remember is how your sweet little hiccups felt like tiny pokes (and you had the hiccups ever so much!) 

We didn't know if you were a boy of a girl, but we immediately started planning in the ways that we could. Our plans were in things we thought we had  control over. 
-I would have a natural birth.
-No epidural.
-You would be breastfed.
-There would be a baby shower in New York and one in Rhode Island so that families and friends from both places could make it. 
-After you were born we would let ourselves get pregnant again as soon as it would naturally happen so that you could have brothers and sisters in abundance! 
...and those things would all happen as planned because they should, right? Wrong. SO v e r y w r o n g. Psalm 16:9 says that we plan our ways but the Lord directs our steps, and baby girl, the Lord had other plans for us and for you. At 16 weeks, we found out that you were a girl! I had a feeling all along and I was right!

Your name was going to be Jane Elizabeth. How beautiful does that sound? Both strong, classic names, timeless, feminine. Our girl was going to be Jane and there was no other name that could quite match it.


At 25 weeks at a routine OB visit checkup and for peace of mind because I had been bleeding the day before, our normal and our plans soon flipped upside down. The OB was concerned because my cervix looked shorter in the ultrasound. And upon checking, I was already 3 centimeters dilated. Dad and I didn't realize what the doctor was saying initially. Some snippets I can hear her saying are: "Shorter cervix. preterm labor. Lungs not developed. If you are going to have the baby you need to get injections to help develop her lungs. Some concerns are bleeding in the brain that could lead to developmental issues. Try to stop the labor if you are contracting. Girls typically do better than boys. I can see your sack bulging"         W A I T!! WHAT? I immediately broke down and started bawling. Was I going to have you at 25 weeks? Would you be ok? Would you survive? Could they stop it? How small would you be? How often does this happen? I had so many questions. My mind was spinning. Daddy was hugging me. 25 weeks, little girl, was NOT part of the plan; not ours anyway. This early dilation, along with the possibility of contractions sent us to the hospital where, after being monitored it was clear that I was in fact contracting. Next thing I know an another hospital where they have a level 3 NICU, which is where you would be if you were delivered prematurely--and survived. Daddy couldn't come on the ambulance ride with me, so as he followed behind I had time to think and I thought to myself.

...Wow. I had so many plans. How easily did I assume things would go my way? Nothing was in my hands. I had no power. This..all of it...from beginning to end was the Lord. He had all the power. He has all the power. His plan. Not ours. Whatever happens is what the Lord ordained would happen. I need to...we need to trust in Him--no matter what. You might be born perfect. You may have serious developmental disabilities. You could have Down Syndrome. You may not live, but you might. Maybe I will go full term. Maybe active labor will kick in and within hours I will have a baby. SO many things could happen. The thing is, my little one, that it didn't happen the way mama and papa planned. It happened the way our heavenly Father planned, for our good and for His glory. His glory, that was and is the most important thing. 

I was in the labor room now. I got an injection in my leg to help mature your lungs if you were born early. I had an IV that let magnesium flow into my system to help prevent bleeding in your brain. Your name would be Mercy--Mercy Heritage. Daddy came up with both names, I just put them together. Though Jane seemed to be the perfect name for you, under our circumstances I saw the beauty in the name Mercy. Our Father, full of mercy and grace loved us so much that while we were still sinners He sent His son, Jesus to die on a cross, in our place, so that we could have eternal life with Him in heaven. We needed mercy. I asked the Lord to have mercy on us and on you. Your middle name, Heritage, is so full of meaning as well. Psalm 127:3 says that children are a heritage from the Lord. In the bigger picture, what an amazing heritage we have because of the mercy and love of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Mercy Heritage would be your name and it couldn't be any more perfect. Though I was able to talk (and many different doctors came to talk to me about things like: what to expect if you were born, breastfeeding, and risks) I was in and out because the magnesium also made mama sleepy and after hours of being in the labor room, no further dilation and my contractions more sporadic and less regular, I was brought up to the Antenatal floor where I would be on bed rest until you arrived.

Bed rest? I could do that. It didn't seem so bad. In fact, it sounded pretty nice. I could sleep as much as I wanted, eat, and rest until you came. Little did I know I would be in bed for a month and two weeks and bed rest is MUCH harder than it sounds.