Toppy Eve

February 7th has been circled on the calendar for a long time.

Ask me what my due date is, and this tired mama may have to scratch her head for a minute. Ask me the date of my anatomy scan, and I can immediately answer. With the time.

It’s not that I’ve been anxious about this day. Miraculously, from the start of this pregnancy there has been the consistent and ever present presence of peace. Even now, on this eve of the day, I don’t feel anxiety lapping on the shores of my soul.

But there has been eagerness. An eagerness bordering on impatience. I think I may have confessed a time or two that I’m the planner type. The detail type. I have a fond obsession with putting ducks in a row. And so for a long time I have looked at February 7th as the date on which I would be handed some ducks. An idea of what the rest of this pregnancy will look like – occasional check-ups in Wenatchee or many trips over to specialists in Seattle? A glimpse into the little one being created, one of the bigger illuminations being gender, that leads into names and nursery and future envisioning of our family.

As I sat chatting with our OB at my last appointment, she mentioned that she was cheering for a standard, healthy pregnancy. I smiled, said that’s wonderful, but then assured her that should the ultrasound reveal something different, when she saw Jeff and I on February 7th, we would not be devastated. It’s kind of hard to hope to avoid EVC when you have a Bella walking around the house. When one of the best gifts you’ve been given in your life is wrapped up in a diagnosis that is scary, and challenging, and potentially deadly, but at the same time blessing. When those limb measurements pop up tomorrow, we will not be crushed if they’re measuring a couple weeks behind. We’ll just immediately know to start praying for that little rib cage and heart.

But back to me and my eager, yes impatient, awaiting of this day. I have been waiting for knowledge. For revelation. For ducks to line up…so that I can feel like I have a handle on what’s coming up.

February 7th seemed like the perfect date as well. February 6th is my birthday, a day which my husband always takes off of work to spend with me. That will be perfect to spend the day together beforehand, was my thought. Jeff always does a marvelous job of spoiling me rotten, so I knew I would both have fun to help pass the last impatient day, as well as time to sit and process and anticipate with my husband over a long leisurely kid-less dinner. I even planned to ask him for a bit of time at some point in the day to write out a letter to Toppy.

Who’s Toppy? Oh dear, you haven’t been formerly introduced. Those who have followed Bella’s story may well remember that her “womb name” – before we knew her gender and found the name we would give her – was Poppy. Eliana’s womb name was Tipper. The first little information we read about Eliana after the pink lines appeared was that she was the size of a pen tip – hence tipper. The first description we read of Bella, the size of a poppy seed. So why Toppy? Well, one morning I was telling Eliana about the names we called her and Bella when they were in my tummy, and then I asked her what we should call this baby. Without missing a beat, she declared “Toppy!” and the name stuck.

But back to my beautifully laid out plans. I was going to take time to write a letter to Toppy. To process and pray. It was going to be the perfect Toppy eve. All my ducks were lined up.

Can I let you in on a little secret? Jesus likes to mess with my ducks. And for some reason, on this day, He must have decided I needed a lesson rather than the day I had imagined and dreamed up for myself.

It started with waking up at 4am, which happens to be a pretty typical pregnancy waking time for me. Only this time I heard something. Sure enough, it was the TV loudly blaring at Large Superbowl Party Viewing volume downstairs. My groggy brain tried to rationalize the TV being on, and I got that spooky tingle of things being off. Then I saw the flashing clocks, realized there had been a power outage and that had messed with the TV. I returned to bed, but not without a dose of adrenaline from said spooky tingle. Which meant I was still awake when my husband rolled out of bed at 5:15 to go meet some guys for coffee, and definitely still awake when Bella started crying at 5:25.

I went to get Bella, who had been fighting a cold, and quickly realized this cold had turned into a beast overnight. Her breathing was terrible and my mama gut knew we needed to have her seen ASAP. We called the pediatrician as soon as the office opened, got her an appointment, I juggled a plate of pancakes on my leg while she dozed on my side, and then we headed to the doctor. We spent the next few hours at the doctor’s, where we moved from “we’ll certainly need to hospitalize her” to “you can take her home with an armful of meds {that she will stubbornly spit out when you administer them} and firm instructions on how to carefully monitor her. And then we spent the rest of the day doing just that (and thanking Jesus once again for albuterol). Dinner was late take-out scarfed down while we warily watched breathing patterns and discussed whether to have Bella sleep in the pack ‘n play in our room.

Needless to say, there was no letter writing to Toppy. No reflecting and processing. Frankly, there was very little thought of Toppy. Perhaps that in itself is a blessing?

But more than that was the gentle reminder, the subtle nudge my heart so needed to hear going into tomorrow.

We just don’t know what waits around the corner. Regardless of the appearance or lack thereof of health. Regardless of diagnosis. Regardless of expectations. Ducks, even when carefully placed in a row, have a tendency to waddle off out of place.

Now, left at that point, that’s not a very encouraging lesson.

But then there’s the flip side. Even though you don’t know what’s coming – and you can’t and won’t – there is grace enough for today.

And that my dear friends was revealed in spades today. For while it was a crazy, unexpected, hard, long day, there was grace after grace after grace after grace poured out. Undeniable, Jesus is present, Jeff and I catching each other’s eye as we shake our heads, grace. I would list them all, but A, I’ve already droned on long enough, and B, I’ve been up since 4.

But that’s what I take into tomorrow with me. Yes, we will get some information. Yes, the road might be a bit clearer. Yes, we might be able to make some plans. But there will likely be unexpected bumps and twists and turns to follow – regardless of what we learn. But our Jesus is with us, and our Jesus is oh so good.