A Life Changing 36 Hours, Part II

I don't know how we slept last night, but I did, fitfully, for a few hours. By morning, I didn't even want to get up and face the day. I don't know if Pam slept at all, even though she was wrung dry emotionally.

Pam's parents drove all night, God bless them, and made it in about 7:30 this morning. They kept Olivia and picked Carli up from pre-school while we drove down to Indy for our appointment with the Prenatal Diagnosis specialist. The palpable fear was incredible. You have to understand that we were doing everything to avoid the thought we couldn't help but confront....that our little Madeline Kate might not live. (We found out that we're having another little girl earlier this morning.)

The first half hour with the ultrasound tech, our worries descended into out and out panic as she softly explained that the growth at the end of the spine was causing the back of the brain to collapse, which in turn was filling the brain with fluid. Pam began to sob, and it was all I could do to keep from dissolving, too. This went on for 30 eternal minutes or so, and we knew our baby wasn't going to make it.

Then, the doctor came in, looked over the data for a while and began to explain everything. Finally, Pam couldn't take it anymore and blurted out, "So will our baby survive?" The doctor said, "Yes, almost certainly...very high chance." I jumped in and said, "So what about life expectancy after she's born?" The doctor, one word: "Long." Me: "You mean she can expect to live out her normal span of years?" Doctor: "The odds are high that, yes, that will be the case." Pam: "What is the outlook on mental deficiency?" Doctor: "The odds are high that she should have very little to any delayed mental development."

I have explained this to people all day in this fashion: If the doctor had come to us and dropped the news in our laps yesterday morning that our child would be born without the use of her legs, we would have probably gone into hysterics. After 24 hours of agony in waiting, fearing for our little girl's life, though, we were ecstatic.

It turns out our little girl has spina bifida, which means that the lower portion of her spinal cord is exposed outside the skin. She will be born that way this July, and will be rushed to surgery immediately. We are in the care of a top-of-the-line team of neurosurgeons and neonatal care specialists, so there is every reason to expect that she will do fine. She will, however, suffer the possibility of permanent paralysis from the waist down at the most severe ranging to the possibility that she may eventually gain some usage in her legs, even walking with braces. She will always struggle with bowel and bladder control, though eventually, she will learn to manage it on her own. I asked Heather, the genetics counselor if there is a possibility that someday, she could live independently, fall in love, get married and have a family, if that is part of God's plan, and Heather said she sees no reason why that shouldn't be a joyful part of the potential story of little Madeline's life.

We feel like we have been pulled back from the brink of the abyss. What a wonderful Savior we serve Who has been with us every step of this very unexpected and extraordinary journey. And we've only just begun, of course. God has seen fit to entrust us with the care of a special needs child, and we are thrilled. I am not so naive as to presume that we won't face challenges to our patience, our faith and our nerves in the days ahead! But with the grace of God, the love of family and the care and support of the best friends and church in the world, we will not only be fine; we will thrive!