The stone was rolled away and Jesus was free. Free from all the pain he had endured and finally reunited with His Father. He has risen! This is what most Christians really celebrate during Easter while we hide eggs and eat way too much candy. I was shocked to realize at the time in our journey where we were holding our breath, marching onward, that Jesus was marching towards Jerusalem and predicting His painful death on the cross. (John 12) Don’t get me wrong, I am in no way comparing my life to that of Jesus but He is my comforter and it’s nice to know He understands. He definitely understands. He is the reason for my hope and strength throughout this entire process so I’d be a fool not to share Him with you.
God sent His son to die on the cross for our sins. God heard Jesus cry out in pain and beg for the cup of suffering to pass before it was ever started but God’s will prevailed. (Matthew 26:36-42) I can’t tell you how many times I cried out to Him to take all of this away. I didn’t want my baby sick. I didn’t want to go through this. I didn’t want to know what it was like to say goodbye to my child, to possibly watch her suffer. God heard me too. Jesus knew he was to endure the worst so all of us could be saved and even though He accepted his fate and wanted to bring glory to God, He was scared. He was troubled and sorrowful while in prayer with God. Embracing your pain does not mean you have a lack of faith. It shows you are in the likeness of Jesus.
Shortly after Easter we received devastating news that was a time of heartbreak and tears. After 6 months of loving every kick and being so hopeful are prayers would come true, we were able to see just how powerful that third chromosome 13 was on our little girl. In the specialist office, sitting on the most comfortable stretcher I’ve ever known (no lie, it was like laying on a cloud), the ultrasound tech put warm gel on my belly and there she was! My hyperactive mini just dancing away. I was always so excited to see her movements on the monitor. The tech, who was a friendly face by now, was so sweet to answer all my questions. (Y’all know nurses are the worst patients. ha) The brain fusion was deep. My smile slowly went away as she then dragged a little yellow line across what I assumed would be her nose. It was how wide her cleft lip and palate was at the time. I gasped out loud, it took my breath away. There was another hole but this one was found in the middle of her heart, called AVSD. It was of “substantial size” and could be the main reason she might never make it out of the womb. The specialist we saw that day was blunt and urged us to get our palliative care plans in place. I remember walking out with a loss of words and a hole in my heart too. “It wasn’t suppose to be this way, Lord. Why her?”
I was terrified of giving my daughter to God, of having to say goodbye. Can you imagine? The little girl who was living inside me probably wouldn’t ever take a breath on this earth. I was in pieces, feeling frozen. I ‘ve never been closer to Jesus’ feet, laying down my burdens. I’ve never had to surrender so much control. I’ve never been so heartbroken. She was never mine to begin with.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Philippians 4:6
Day 7. I came home from the hospital and bought the rest of this set and I haven’t taken it off since. I will always carry Evelynn with me and it’s nice to look down and be reminded of our journey. It’s called Love and Loss but I couldn’t leave out sweet Charlie. The heart was given to me by a dear motherly influence and I ordered Evelynn’s birthstone, ruby, and Charlie’s, emerald. Now I get reminded of the most precious pieces of my heart everyday. All in honor of you, baby.
Evelynn’s Basket 