An Amazing Journey

Yesterday, I did something scary...I don't normally shy away from speaking to a group, but this was one story I had to really push myself to share with our MOPS group. Back in September I participated in a Bible study that I loved. It was one that pushed me hard, but brought me closer to God. It was tough, but rewarding. Back when I wrote this, I felt God working on my heart to share it, and I did share it with that small group of 10 ladies. I feel like it's meant to be shared more, and yesterday was a tiny step further since I talked to about 45 ladies this time. Telling this story isn't nearly as hard on me as reading it aloud. When I tell it (without notes) I naturally skip over the painful parts, the parts I never wanted to admit to feeling. When I read it, I remember it all, and can't get through much of it without crying. Back when I found out I was pregnant with triplets, I thought about keeping a journal, but in the end I did not because, at the time, I feared my children would read my thoughts and misinterpret them. Four years later, I've written a lot of the things I was afraid they'd find, but there is a freedom. I am no longer afraid that they would find it and think they were unwanted or unloved...now, my hope is that someday they will read this and see how the amazing journey impacted me spiritually.

I was completely and totally exhausted after MOPS yesterday, and the kids throwing boots through the car on the way home just about reached my last nerve. I was still close to weeping as I urged them to pick up the shoes, socks, jackets, and crafts that littered the car. When they sat for lunch, it hit me that four years ago as the rest of the world celebrated Christmastime, I was spending nights in the Ronald McDonald House and days at the hospital yearning for them to be home. I scooped them close and loved on them for a bit.

I was so glad that my friend Ema was also sharing a very personal story, too. Somehow, it made it a little easier to let down some of my walls knowing that she was right next to me if I needed a pat on the back or another kleenex. Here is what I read...and tried so hard not to cry through:

Time. . . sometimes all it takes is time to hear God’s answers to our prayers. Although He answers all along, I don’t always hear it or see it until time has passed and the healing begins. Three of my children, Ben, Maddie, and Jon, are four years old now. They are healthy preschoolers who love to sing and dance and swing and slide. Ben has such a vivid imagination, Maddie finds beauty in garden weeds, and Jon has such a sweet spirit. My children bring me so much more joy than I ever imagined possible, but the first few months of their lives was filled with grief, anguish, and weariness as God worked some of His miracles on me.

Allen and I had a healthy two-year old son, and we were thrilled to be expecting another baby. When we went for a routine prenatal check-up, we were startled when the sonogram showed three small hearts beating inside me. All at once, I was overwhelmed with emotions – joy that we were pregnant, excitement that there was more than one, fear of the unknown, stress about how we would pay for college for four children – and that is only the beginning of the feelings that overcame me in that first instant. After that, my prayers were, “God, why are you doing this to us?”

I rushed home after that appointment and did as much research as I could about triple pregnancy. I learned that sometimes the three embryos are hiding a fourth; and sometimes, one or more of the embryos dies and is absorbed into the body. We scheduled a second sonogram and my prayers over those two weeks were constantly, “God, let there be three – all three, only three.”

After the second sonogram confirmed there were still triplets, I did my best to pray, but I was overcome with fears as the babies and I faced such high risks. Many studies showed that only about half of the women pregnant with triplets actually deliver triplets. Sometimes the embryos are not viable. Sometimes there are miscarriages or still births. Sometimes the babies are born so prematurely that they are permanently disabled or not strong enough to survive. I was focused on the fears I had for my unborn babies, but I was vividly aware of the risks to my own body.


Although we planned our pregnancy and prayed for a baby, this was more than what I wanted, and I could imagine my happy life changing drastically. I imagined the sleepless nights; I imagined the loneliness I’d feel because I’d be stuck at home; I imagined being overwhelmed with the debt of medical bills, diapers, and formula. Although there was still the hope and excitement that comes with planned pregnancy, this was definitely NOT what I asked for. I was grieving that my body, my family, and my life were changing in ways I never planned. My prayers were often, “God, why me?”
During my pregnancy, my doctor gave me a new goal with each visit. First we had to make it to week 13, then week 16. At week 17, strangers passing me in the store warned me that my baby would be here any day now. My belly was about as big at four months as it was with Will just before he was born full-term. We hit the next few benchmarks -- week 18, then week 24, then week 28, which was my target all along. As soon as I had my 28-week check up, I let my friends schedule the baby shower. My prayers quickly changed to, “God, help me gain weight for my babies. Heal my sore back and my aching hands. God, I am exhausted and they aren’t even here yet. How can I carry these babies by myself? and please, please, please keep them in me long enough they survive.”

At week 29, I went to the hospital for a routine non-stress test, but I already knew I wouldn't be home until after I delivered the triplets. I suspected I was having contractions, but the skin on my tummy was stretched so painfully tight I could only feel them if my hand was on my belly. After spending 30 hours trying to stop my labor, the doctor decided to do the c-section. Our triplets were born on October 17, 2006. The babies were 29 weeks gestationally -- 11 weeks premature. The nurses whisked the babies away quickly, but as they passed me, they showed me each of my children. The last one let me kiss the top of Jon's head before she left, but other than that one time, it was almost a month before any of them were kissed. My prayers were, “God, let them be okay. Please let them live!”

Attachment didn't come as naturally as it did with my first child. The first time around, I felt the little legs kicking my tummy, and I knew I loved the little being that became William. With the triple pregnancy, the doctor told us the risks from the start, and I chose not to get attached. When friends wanted to have a baby shower I resisted -- I didn't want to come home to three of everything if I could not come home with three babies. When my babies arrived, the largest just three pounds, I was still afraid to fall in love; there were just too many things that could go wrong and break my heart. God knew what He was doing when he gave me these three, but I still wondered what He was thinking. My prayers were, “God, help these babies grow, and help me learn to love them.”

I stayed in the hospital a week, and leaving was the hardest and bravest thing I've done in my entire life. I had a two-year old at home 100 miles away who needed a mama, but I also had three preemies who were so fragile that it broke my heart to leave. I remember spending two days crying constantly except when I was asleep -- thankfully, my pain meds helped me to sleep often. I took Will to the sitter those few days because he didn't understand why mama was so sad. I know part of it was the hormone roller-coaster, but a lot of it was that I felt like I was the only one in the maternity ward going to the curb in a wheelchair without a baby. Not only that, but I hadn't even been able to hold them yet. My prayers were still, “God, let them live!” When I was home, away from them, my prayers were, “God, let me be happy again someday.”

The babies were considered micro-preemies because they were under three-pounds. Their little bodies had immature lungs, no feeding reflexes, and severe anemia. Two of them had open vessels in their hearts that needed to be closed, but thankfully they were healed without needing heart surgery. Between the three of them, there were nine blood transfusions. All three started life in incubators not much larger than a shoebox, with an oxygen tube, a feeding tube, and at least one IV going into their small bodies. There were three probes on each of them that showed us their blood oxygen levels, their pulse, and their temperatures. My little babies were covered with tubes and wires. At some point, I knew they would live and my prayers changed to, “God, please let them be healthy and without permanent handicaps.”

They were about 3 weeks old before we were allowed to hold them; their skin was so delicate that Allen and I were only supposed to touch their heads or feet, but not caress them at all. That was so hard when all I wanted to do was cuddle my precious babies and let them know that they were loved. Although I still distanced myself, after I held them, it didn't take long to fall, head over heals, in love with Benjamin, Madeline, and Jonathan. For the first month of their lives, each time the vital monitors alarmed, my heart raced as I assumed the worst. Though there were times they stopped breathing or their hearts stopped beating for a few seconds, I finally learned to be calm with the sirens and just do what was needed. Though other babies in the NICU were struggling to survive, our three thrived. Soon I was confident they would eventually come home, and my prayers became, “God, please let them be home for Christmas.”

You know all the photos parents dream of taking – the birth, holding baby in the hospital, big brother holding baby, baby’s first Christmas? Well, we have some photographs, but I still get nauseated when I see the tubes, needles, wires, and bandages all over my children who were small enough to fit in my palms. So many of my hopes and dreams were shattered the three months we were in the hospital, and my heart was broken and aching, even as we celebrated each milestone they reached. What I hoped would be a beautiful-little-baby times three, looked more like little alien than a little me. Our Thanksgiving was spent eating canned turkey in the hospital cafeteria – but we were thankful. What I hoped for was for a cute picture of my three under our Christmas tree at home, but they were all still in the hospital and our family spent the day there with the nurses and our three miracles.

What I hoped was to bring all three home at the same time just to finally have our family together, but Maddie came home on December 29th. Ben came home on January 8th, and Jon on January 18th, just after they were 3 months old. A lot of people said "at least they didn't come all at once," but I disagreed. As hard as it would've been to adjust to life with three babies at home, what was harder was delivering milk to a hospital almost two hours away while staying home with the other kids. Even harder was that we were hit by a lot of snow. My prayers over those few weeks went from, “God, please let them come home soon,” to “God, please help them learn to eat,” to “God, please melt the snow.”

I had so many hopes that never happened, but, looking back now, they aren’t relevant. There were so many things that could have gone wrong that didn’t and I am very thankful for that. I wish someone had told me that joy would eventually replace my grief. . . .or maybe someone did, but I didn’t hear it through my sobbing.

In John 16:20, Jesus tells his disciples, “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.” I can tell you I haven’t forgotten all of my pain yet, but I know someday I will. My heart is scarred just as my womb is, but I am healing, and I am stronger in the places my heart was broken. In carrying, birthing, and bringing home Ben, Maddie, and Jon, I found that God does answer prayers. In fact, He answers MY prayers.

I can now see the progress God has made in me, and I can imagine what the conversation would be like had it all happened at once. It would sound something like this:

God, why are you doing this to us?

Delight in this adventure, my daughter, as I delight in you. I am rewarding you with children, and your womb will prosper. You already know that in all things I work for your good, for the good of all who love Me, so just delight in this adventure. (Deuteronomy 30:9, Psalm 127:3, Romans 8:28)

God, let there be three – all three and only three

Sweet Sarah, worrying will not add a single hour to your life. If you cannot even do this very little thing, why are you worrying about the rest? Just let Me take care of My job, I have it all figured out already. (Luke 12:25-26)

God, keep these three little ones healthy and make them grow.

I hear your cry, Sarah, and I know your heart and your fears. I care about and love those little ones even more than you ever will. They are wonderfully made; I knit each of them together in your womb, and I already know each of them. They are My children, just as you are. Trust Me to take care of them, just as I care for you. (Psalm 139: 13-14, Jeremiah 1:5)

God, why me?

Only I know the plans I have for you, My Sarah. I have plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. You will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. Yes, you will struggle. But seek me with all your heart, then you will find me and I will rescue you. It may seem harsh, but My plan will work to restore you, to make you strong, stand firm, and be loyal. I promise it will all be okay. (Jeremiah 29:11-14a, I Peter 5:10, 11)

God, help me gain weight for my babies. Heal my sore back and my aching hands. God, I am exhausted and they aren’t even here yet. How can I carry these babies by myself?

Oh, Sarah! It hurts Me that you are hurting. You have come to Me with a weary body and a burdened mind; I will give you rest. I created your body to do good and awesome things – things I’ve known about since I’ve known you. You cannot carry these babies by yourself. You need Me to provide strength and the help of others. You’ve never been good at accepting help, Sarah, but I am working on you. Humble yourself before Me so that I may lift you up. (Matthew 11:28, Ephesians 2:10, I Peter 5:6) I have help lined up for you – My willing servants are ready to support you, pray for you, make a hot dinner for your family, fold laundry, and clean your bathroom. They are anxious to start doing My work, but they are waiting for your permission. Humble yourself; quit pretending you can do it all, and let my servants help. It will bring them such joy, and it will bring Me such joy!

Please, please, please keep them in me long enough they survive.

My Child, I am the Lord, your God, who holds your hand and reminds you: do not fear; I will help you. (Isaiah 41:13)

God, let them be okay. Please let my children live!

Sarah, do not be afraid, for I am with you! Do not lose your courage or be upset, for I am your God! I will strengthen you and help you and your children; I will hold you up with my righteous right hand when you cannot seem to hold yourself up any longer. (Isaiah 41:10)

God, let them live!

Sweet Sarah, I have told you over and over again to be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for I am with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

God, let me be happy again someday.

Sweet daughter, it breaks my heart to see you sad, especially when you have so much to be thankful for. I understand your grief, and though now you are weeping, carrying seed to sow, you soon will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with you. (Psalm 126:5-6) You will be happy again, but you cannot know happiness without having grief with which to compare it.

God, please let them be healthy and without permanent handicaps.

Sarah, I give you My peace. It is here for you to take. Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:27) Can’t you see? Can you see what miracles I am doing with your children? Wipe away your tears so you can clearly see how I am molding you just as I am forming them. No? Someday. . . someday you will see the wonder I am doing at this hard time in your life. No one can count all the wonders I have planned for you. (Psalm 40:5)

God, please let them be home for Christmas. Please let them come home soon, help them learn to eat, and melt the snow.

Daughter, I am the God of hope. Be filled with all joy and peace as you trust in Me. Do not hope in trivial things like the day they will go home or the temperature of the day, but be overflowing with hope in Me. (Romans 15:13) I know you still cannot see it, Sarah, but through these trials I am drawing you closer to Me. Instead of struggling against my hugs for you, you now lean in and embrace Me. You are learning to trust Me and to trust your children to My care. I am pouring My gifts upon you . . . little seeds right now that will root and grow healthy fruit. You are learning to love differently than you’ve ever loved before. You are learning patience – not just the sitting and waiting by the isolettes, but waiting for My perfect timing and being content in your quiet wait. You are learning gentleness and self-control. You are learning to be humble, and that your family, friends, and even strangers have more than enough kindness and goodness to share. And you are learning that you are worthy of their kindness. You are learning that many of My children find joy in helping, and that when you are proud, you prevent them from having that joy. (Galatians 5:22-23) Most of all, Sweet Child, you are learning that Ben, Maddie, Jon, and Will are My children whom I have graciously given to you (Genesis 33:5), My gifts to you for a short time. I have chosen you and Allen to care for them on Earth, but you must turn them over to Me so they can receive the best blessings I have to give. You are learning that I hear your cries, your worries, your broken heart, and I am your strength. One day, Sweet Daughter, you will be able to tell this story and your heart will leap for joy and you will thank me for your journey. (Psalm 28:6-7)