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.