I woke up in the middle of the night last night at around 4, which has become the standard for me of late. I wasn't particularly worried about Alder; the nicu team here is fabulous and has promised that no news is good news, but still, I'm a new mom of a preemie baby, and I couldn't resist the urge to check in. The report was fine: some small declines in a few of his stats, (oxygen levels increased by 5%, a sugar spike, slight increase in blood gases...) All in all, about what you expect, or even better, for a baby born at 24 weeks 5 days gestation. My mind at ease, I said, "thank you," and hung up the phone in hopes for a few more hours sleep. And then.
And then I started praying for our boy. And the Lord gifted me with some pretty amazing words to speak over his little growing body, words that I couldn't have possibly imagined up on my own, words that, two weeks ago, would have seemed like someone else's prayer. And as I prayed, I contemplated last night's post. The plagiarized Psalm 139. (I don't know if you knew this, but God loves it when you plagiarize His words back to Him. He's been telling me so lately.)
"For you formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made..." (vs 13 &14)
These verses, commonly known, have been dear to me ever since that sixth grade assignment where I had to memorize the whole chapter. (My little sister totally outshone me on that one; I can't compete with an 8 year old who can perfectly rattle off the whole chapter in perfected Gospel minister mimicry.) They became even dearer when I witnessed the miracle of life in the form of my first two children. But now? Now they mean something different. Last night, I worried.
What do you make of those words when your baby should be in the dark mystery of your womb, in the safe, unknown inside of you, but has arrived despite your best efforts to keep him there? What do you do when You, Mama, Safe One, Protector, Lover, Nurturer, have become the very person causing his body to rapidly decline? When your womb becomes not cocoon, but battleground? When your baby now grows in a box?
At that point, these words become not worship, but lament. As they began to sour in my soul, the Lord intervened with this conquering truth: He alone is the one who knits us together; He alone is the one who makes us fearfully and wonderfully; If He can knit us together in the secret, dark, mysterious unknown, can't He surely continue that same work in the open? If I can trust Him with my son's development inside of me where I cannot see, how much more should I trust Him with Alder's life outside of me, where I can actually watch Him perform this wonderous knitting? Even more incredible than that: He has gifted me, Gina, Alder's mommy, with the great privilege of watching my son grow in the miraculous, radiant light of God, Creator and Sustainer of everything that is and that was and that will have breath in this world. What a blessing that is! And oh! How gently He rebuked and reoriented my eyes towards Himself, gifting me in return not with consequence, but with grace and peace and newness of heart. He is so, so kind and gracious with us!
I give praise to Him, too, that He ordained that we should exist in the 21st century, a snippet in history when Alder and I both have a fighting chance of survival. Alder needs constant and immediate medical attention and intervention. But medicine does not create, it maintains--mimics, even, but it does not knit. The One True God, the Holy One of Israel, our Rescuer, Redeemer, the great I AM, only He can make something from nothing. Only He form life from dust.
I also do not make presumptions upon the outcome of Alder's story. I must actively choose to lay my child's delicate life at the foot of the cross. But time and time again I have witnessed the Lord's miraculous work in our daily lives. I believe He has brought us thus far. He will bring us to 5:00, 6:00, and to tomorrow. And tomorrow He will bring us to the day after. He will carry us daily, even when the days are black and the last thing I want to do is to sing His praises. He will not forsake His beloved. And, out of the pure goodness of His magnificent and abundant grace, He has called even me His beloved daughter, Alder His beloved son. That and that alone is what gives me strength for today and hope for tomorrow.
"Those who hope in the lord will renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31