God, in His sovereignty, saw it right to put us through a time of testing. We were just coming to terms with a surprise pregnancy, eleven weeks in. Just beginning to get over the panic of adding an extra little one to our already chaotic home, just beginning to dream and plan and think of baby names and slings, just beginning to borrow maternity clothes....when the bleeding started. I'm thankful we had time to have an ultrasound, to figure out what might have gone wrong. No, it wasn't the exercise video I'd done that morning; no it wasn't Nathaniel jumping on my stomach a couple of days ago with his innocent, oblivious, childish enthusiasm. Our little baby had died already four weeks earlier.
We tried to breathe, tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong while we figured out what to do. You see, living as we do in a remote part of Russia, any medical emergency brings with it a whole other set of fears and stresses. We made plans, bought tickets to Moscow, booked into a Western-standard hospital, sent the girls off to stay with friends.....and yet still in all of this God, in His sovereignty, had other plans for us.
When the bleeding started coming more heavily I was glad it was at home rather than on the plane the next morning. But more and more poured out of me. Life oozing away. The baby's, mine...I started to feel dizzy. We had no choice. We called an ambulance, and thus it was that I let go of any last ounce of control I felt in the situation and submitted myself fully into the hands of the local medical system, and ultimately into God's hands.
God sent some angels to watch over us. A neighbour already in the same ward. Doctors and nurses that genuinely wanted to help and to heal. But this was to be a lesson in faith, trust and strength of character. An operating room looking more like a torture chamber in a James Bond film, made all the more unsettling when I was told I couldn't have anaesthetic. Then my blood pressure dropping so low they couldn't get a bottom reading. Flurry of activity, concerned faces, needles, drips..... God's grace. I regained my colour and life pumped through my veins more strongly once more.
And then over the next few days came more trials. So many drips I lost count; a painful catheter in place for six uncomfortable hours; sparse conditions with no privacy; a toilet with no seat, no toilet paper, no soap, and an open bucket full of unmentionable things; another operation, this time with drugs that sent me off into some strange world where I could hear and see but make no sense of it all; and perhaps hardest of all not being able to see my husband for more than ten minutes a day and my children not at all because it wasn't 'appropriate'.
But more angels came. Local friends (women) bringing food, plates, mugs, towels, magazines and more importantly love, understanding, sympathy, a hand to hold and tissues to weep into. A group of friends strangely more united, drawn closer through sharing pain together. My Russian friends said I was 'one of them' now, and I felt strangely proud.
And so, here I am, back at home, so grateful to have all that behind me, and yet still to have the processing of what happened ahead of me. Why? Why go through all that pain? What was the purpose? I know it will take a while to find even the beginning of any answers to those questions. Perhaps the greater question now is: How will this change me? Will it harden me, make me more bitter and angry? Will it soften me so much that I become scared, helpless, useless? Or will it change me in a way that will eventually bear fruit and spread a pleasing aroma? I pray the latter.
Abide in Him!
drip: freedigitalphotos.net / janoon028
We tried to breathe, tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong while we figured out what to do. You see, living as we do in a remote part of Russia, any medical emergency brings with it a whole other set of fears and stresses. We made plans, bought tickets to Moscow, booked into a Western-standard hospital, sent the girls off to stay with friends.....and yet still in all of this God, in His sovereignty, had other plans for us.
When the bleeding started coming more heavily I was glad it was at home rather than on the plane the next morning. But more and more poured out of me. Life oozing away. The baby's, mine...I started to feel dizzy. We had no choice. We called an ambulance, and thus it was that I let go of any last ounce of control I felt in the situation and submitted myself fully into the hands of the local medical system, and ultimately into God's hands.
And then over the next few days came more trials. So many drips I lost count; a painful catheter in place for six uncomfortable hours; sparse conditions with no privacy; a toilet with no seat, no toilet paper, no soap, and an open bucket full of unmentionable things; another operation, this time with drugs that sent me off into some strange world where I could hear and see but make no sense of it all; and perhaps hardest of all not being able to see my husband for more than ten minutes a day and my children not at all because it wasn't 'appropriate'.
But more angels came. Local friends (women) bringing food, plates, mugs, towels, magazines and more importantly love, understanding, sympathy, a hand to hold and tissues to weep into. A group of friends strangely more united, drawn closer through sharing pain together. My Russian friends said I was 'one of them' now, and I felt strangely proud.
And so, here I am, back at home, so grateful to have all that behind me, and yet still to have the processing of what happened ahead of me. Why? Why go through all that pain? What was the purpose? I know it will take a while to find even the beginning of any answers to those questions. Perhaps the greater question now is: How will this change me? Will it harden me, make me more bitter and angry? Will it soften me so much that I become scared, helpless, useless? Or will it change me in a way that will eventually bear fruit and spread a pleasing aroma? I pray the latter.
Abide in Him!
drip: freedigitalphotos.net / janoon028
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