Light in darkness

Both we and our fathers have sinned; we have committed iniquity; we have done wickedness. Our fathers, when they were in Egypt, did not consider your wondrous works, they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love, but rebelled by the Sea. Yet he saved them for his name's sake, that he might make known his mighty power. Psalm 106:6-8

My hormone levels dropped again today. I guess that means my "miracle baby" has died already. This is a blessing, and something to be mourned. God is giving me one miracle: a natural miscarriage, lifting from my shoulders the burden to watch over my own health for signs of bleeding and to safeguard the life of my baby from those who would sooner kill it "just to be safe". Yet on the other hand, another miracle was denied: I prayed against statistics and probabilities that this baby, wherever it had landed, would survive against the odds to astound the world. And that doesn't seem to be happening. I received a gut-wrenching phone call from the nurse this afternoon - one of many care providers who have assumed, without asking, that I will be relieved to hear I am not having a child since I so obviously didn't want one when I got my tubes tied last May. "Good news!" she said, elatedly. "Your hormone levels are dropping and we are almost certain now that you have miscarried." Good news?? What do I even reply to such an inaccurate statement?

Amelia had a doctor's appointment today as well...a sobering one. Her regular doctor, who's known her since birth, sees all those deficits that have faded into the background of our new normal with more clarity than I. He recommends a long course of PT/OT and nutritional support to fully rehabilitate all those nerve pathways that have been destroyed through this disease process. He also referred us for the immunology evaluation and a thorough pediatric opthomology evaluation to see if Amy will require an eye patch to improve the coordination of her eye muscles. He thinks the rash...which she sprouted last night...looks consistent with a treated case of rubella (German measles). This could potentially explain her symptoms. Not sure yet, though.

What could heal all these newly opened wounds like the fellowship of our dearest friends? We hosted an impromptu small group meeting tonight, aided by boatloads of left-over Halloween candy, homemade sausage and fettucine, and the burning desire on all parts to simply be together. We listened blissfully to the sounds of our children squealing with delight in each others company, feasted together on a simple and hurried supper, and caught up on the various emotional, spiritual and physical ramifications of the trials we have undergone in the previous month: Heather's cancer surgery, Amelia's illness, my miscarriage, new job tasks for Zach, and all the other minutiae of life. I am reminded, by little Evelyn Fugate's beautiful babyhood, that life goes on. Beautifully so. We are so blessed to be meeting together, in our home, nearly complete, no one gone off to heaven yet (with the exception of that baby within me who has gone so early to the arms of Jesus). He is so gracious to us in the midst of our sin and disbelief.