Yesterday we recognized “Laity Sunday,” a day to celebrate the ministry of Christians of all ages in the home, workplace, congregation, community, and world. Two members of Andrews UMC shared about their experience of God. This is from Victoria Rogers, who gave birth to two beautiful (and premature) twins in December. Follow her blog at http://lilmamarogers.wordpress.com/
I remember when the doctor told me he needed to take the babies to save “the little one” as Brooklynn hadn’t been assigned to either baby yet.
The look on Josh’s face told me he was devastated.
“You’ll put the healthy one back? Right?” I remember asking him in shock. Obviously under normal circumstances I understand that doing that wouldn’t be possible with identical twins but when a doctor tells you they are going to take babies who haven’t even entered the third trimester your brain stops working.
Your heart breaks. Your gut sinks. Your head swims. Your soul hurts.
“How will they live?” I remember thinking as they wheeled me in.
The rest is a blur. I remember my mom telling me Chloe had a head full of hair.
When I woke up they told me how small they were. Shock.
Then they told me Chloe had to be resucitated. More shock.
The shocked feeling stuck with me for a few days. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to touch them. I wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening to us. The shock wore off after the first time I watched Brooklynn go code blue and a team of nurses revive her in front of me. Then the shock was replaced by anger. Mostly directed at God.
How was it fair that our babies were struggling like this after I had struggled through the pregnancy as much as I had when drug addicts and women who mistreat the children they already have get to have easy pregnancies and healthy babies who weren’t battling to breathe and trying not to die every five minutes. At one point Brooklynn stopped trying to live and the Dr asked us to prepare for the worst and know that woth her size it isn’t uncommon for them to give up.
Living was too hard.
The anger stayed, but faith started to replace it every time one of my babies beat the odds. Every time a nurse cried telling me babies like Brooklynn just don’t survive like she was doing. Every time a nurse or Dr. told me they prayed for my babies every day before touching them or making decisions.
Every time a Dr told us the odds of both of our babies making it out alive after they did just that. The odds you ask? A 3% surival rate for just one of them with debilitating brain bleeds and diagnoses like cerebral palsy and mental retardation. For both to leave healthy? > 1%. When your Drs tell you they have prayed for your babies who are surviving against all fathomable odds and impossible circumstances and when your nurses tell you that your babies are miracles you just know that God has answered prayers. Especially when the amount of people that prayed for ours were praying every day. I may have been angry with God because I’m human and I didn’t understand why He did this to us. I kept the anger even when thankful He saved them. Even when my faith in prayer was restored. The moment I lost it? When an old friend messaged me to tell me she was considering suicide and had lost faith in God until she started following my twin’s stories. Because of them she didn’t kill herself and started going back to church. I will never question Him again. Maybe He had other reasons… but that seemed like a good enough reason to me. My miracles helped save a life. 115 of prayers, tears, anger, and doubt will always be worth that.
The babies also taught me more about how to pray than anyone else ever could. But that’s a story for another day.