The Homestretch

Monday.

Monday is departure day for me. We’ve had so much going on the past few weeks, so many events that I wanted to be fully present for, that for the most part Shiloh’s story line has quietly sat in the background. Never absent from mind or heart, but not taking center stage. There was a family reunion, preschool graduation, the dance recital, an early birthday party, and just yesterday a very special five year wedding anniversary. And so I moved from anticipating and planning and celebrating one event to the next with a one day at a time mentality, because really, no day is guaranteed to any of us.

But I also know this one day at a time mentality was simply a survival strategy to keep me afloat – I knew there was no way I could carry the weight of what’s to come, the weight of all the unknowns and be present for what was happening in the moment.

But now the calendar hangs startlingly empty. “K Move to Seattle.” “Shiloh day.” And a lot of blank squares. And last night I felt the weight of that descend.

It’s Shiloh’s turn now, and my heart swells with eagerness and longing to hold her, as well as trepidation for the battles that might be to come. There are piles of tiny clothes and swaddling blankets and a fresh new blanket stacked in my bedroom, ready to be put in a suitcase. The next step is to weed through my closet and pick clothes for a pre-baby and post-baby body, clothes for an indeterminate amount of time. Tight sports bras to stop the flow of nourishment in the worst of outcomes, nursing bras for the best of outcomes.

And my mother’s heart aches that there is no bassinet set up…yet. No stack of newborn diapers…yet. We don’t even have the car seat we would use. Back when the airlines lost Bella’s seat on the way back from Tampa, we didn’t replace it. Bella came home from the hospital initially in a car bed purchased at the hospital, therefore we know there’s a decent chance it will be the same case for Shiloh. If not, a car seat can be quickly purchased. But this lack of preparation all hints, all whispers at the preparation for an outcome we neither want to accept or think about in great detail.

Hope burns fierce. Sisters talk of kisses on fresh cheeks and snuggles to come, and sister used baby gear waits expectantly on garage shelves. We so desperately want to bring Shiloh home.

Monday morning I pack up the Corolla and drive myself to Seattle. I’m hoping to check into Ronald McDonald, but I won’t know if there’s room until Sunday. A dear friend, a teacher out for summer break, will be driving over to stay with me. To “baby-sit” the ticking time bomb and ensure I can make it to the hospital should Shiloh determine her day of delivery. Monday afternoon we’ll spend at the UW, ultrasound, non-stress test, neonatologist, high risk OB. More numbers, more discussing of potential outcomes, laying out the plans for the day of her arrival.

And then we wait. Assuming I don’t go into labor, July 1st I will be induced. Which means two weeks from today I will be on the sixth floor of the UW, in the beginning stages of labor. Starting the hard work of pushing my daughter from where she safe and sustained into a world we do not know if she will survive in. Another Abraham moment of release, of placing a daughter in the hands of Jesus, unsure whether she will be returned in this life or the next.

But then I know. I’ve been in that moment. I’ve seen the strength that defies explanation, I’ve felt the presence that carries, I know in that moment I will be supplied with everything I need. And I know I’m about to experience Jesus again in a way that few have the opportunity to.

And so I take deep breaths, and today I tackle the last minute to do list, all while trying to soak in these last hours with my two girls before life changes once again.

And I come here, to humbly ask, will you pray? We need you in these coming two weeks. Will you carry us in prayer? Below are some specifics…in no order of coherence or importance, just as they come to this weary mama’s mind.

• Pray that we’d be able to get into the Ronald McDonald house. I’m thankful to have a back-up if we are unable to, but it would be nice to get settled in close to the hospital and to know I won’t be moving again.
• Pray that Shiloh patiently waits to arrive…and that if she does decide to come early, that Jeff would be able to make it over the mountains in time for her birth. Right now, he’s not planning on coming over until June 30th.
• Pray for Eliana & Arabella as they’re away from mommy having way more fun with Papa, Nana, grandma and grandpa.
• Pray for the staff we will work with during Shiloh’s birth. Pray for the timing of her arrival. Because of the various possible outcomes, we’d really like the girls to be at the hospital when she’s born so they will be able to meet her. But if she arrives in the middle of the night, we will have to weigh waking them up with those possibilities.
• Pray for wisdom for Jeff and I as we make decisions for Shiloh’s care. For knowing when and how to fight, and if necessary, when to let go.
• Pray for that ribcage and those lungs to grow in these final days. Pray for a screaming baby with anatomy defying deep breaths.
• Pray for a heart that functions well despite its defects.
• Pray for Jeff and I as we’re apart during these emotional final weeks. Pray especially for Jeff as he single parents, takes care of the many details at home, and has big things happening at work in the next week.
• Pray that Jesus would be glorified in Shiloh’s story. That His presence would be unmistakable. That many would once again have the opportunity to see Him as good, and loving, and sovereign over all things.

Thank you for walking out these final days of waiting with us!