Thomas asked me to post something about how I was feeling at this time as well.
I have to go back to the beginning of the summer for myself. When the first sonographer told us that our son had a problem and the doctor told us that it looked like our boy had a congenital diaphragmatic hernia, but that they didn't know how bad it was, and they were sending us to a specialist, time sort of stopped. All of my emotions sort of went on hold, in an agony of suspense, until we found out more. I tried not to think about it too much because there was nothing we could do. Then when we found out it was so bad it was really hard not to absolutely break down. It was like all of your worst fears that you didn't even know you had suddenly came true. It was as horrible as a nightmare, without any of the relief of waking up, because it was real.
As the summer went on and we learned more about Nathan's specific condition, and as we learned more about what would happen to and for him, and as we decided to move forward with faith, my mind and emotions calmed down. We were doing all we could and learning all we could, and while Nathan was still inside me he was safe. Nothing could hurt him, so we just prayed and both Nathan, and my heart responded.
But as summer drew to a close and Nathan's due date approached, I found myself in emotional crisis again. All of my doubts and fears began to resurface. Very soon Nathan would no longer be safe. Soon doing everything we could do might not be enough, and anything I could actually do would be minimal at best. I was frightened and worried for my baby. I wanted him to live so badly, but I had no control over it at all. Every time I actually thought about Nathan dying my heart broke. I tried to build a connection with him. I sat in the rocking chair we had bought and I tried singing to him and I could never get through more than a verse of any song without crying; absolutely sobbing. My prayers also became more earnest. They had always been sincere, but it was harder to say calm, faithful prayers; they were more desperate pleadings.
I thought I had dealt with all of these emotions earlier in the summer, but they all came back as we faced the unknown again. I had to relearn the faith that we'd decided to exercise. I had to relearn, just a few months later, how to pray with all my heart for my son to survive, while knowing that he might not, and trust that somehow the Lord could help me accept whatever happened.
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