Ordered Steps?

"The heart of man plans his way,

but the LORD establishes his steps."

-Proverbs 16:9

I had a plan. Well, kind of. I wouldn't have called it that, I would have probably called it my "hopes" or my "desires"... but at the end of the day, whether even I realized it or not, it was THE plan. MY plan.

Step 1: Serve the Lord in China until He called me home-check.

Step 2: Wait for the Lord to bring me a godly, handsome, wonderful man and get married- check.

Step 3: Teach for a few years while enjoying the newlywed bliss and adjusting to life as a wife and a stepmom to two boys- check.

Step 4: Have a baby and "retire" to full time motherhood and homemaking- check?

And it seemed like everything was right on track... until a few weeks ago. After serving as an English teacher in China for a year, the Lord opened the door for me to return to the United States... Step 1. During my time in China, my courtship with a wonderful, godly, amazing man (Craig) had developed into something quite serious, and within three months of my return, we were married... Step 2. In ways that only He can do, He provided a job working for godly people that was more perfect than anything I could have even thought to pray for... Step 3. Life had fallen into place so beautifully, and I couldn't believe the blessings that God had allowed me to have. So, after a year of teaching and the ups and downs of adjusting to my new roles, we seemed to have found a balance and decided it was time to allow for Step 4- a baby. So we began praying and opening ourselves up to that possibility and were somewhat surprised when only one short month later we learned that we were expecting our first child together! I marveled at how things seemed to have come together. Could it be that it was all happening? Just like I had imagined?

And then came pregnancy. Somehow I have been fortunate to have a dream pregnancy. Though I expected the worst I found that I had no morning sickness, no nausea, no aversions, no aches and pains... just smooth sailing. I couldn't believe how fortunate I was. When people would ask how I was feeling, I would respond as truthfully as I knew how:

"I'm feeling great, everything is going so easily, but I'm not taking that for granted because I know it can change any day." And I truly meant that. But, Oh, how little I understood the depth of those words...

Until March 30. We went in for a routine check-up and towards the end (after an ultrasound) the midwife returned with a little packet of information and the news that it appeared that our baby had a cleft palate. It was a blow, I won't lie. All kinds of thoughts went through my mind, thoughts that now seem so superficial, so silly. I wondered what she would look like? how bad it would appear? would kids pick on her? would she be able to find a husband one day with a scar above her lip? I went home and struggled through the rest of the day, but with a few days of prayer and research, I had wrapped my head around it and was able to accept it. Now the countdown was on until our appointment with the specialist to determine how severe it was and what kind of surgeries we may need, etc.

Fast forward to April 20. I was a combination of anxious/excited/nervous to see our baby on the higher level ultrasound. I wanted so badly to know how severe her cleft was, secretly hoping it was minor, something a simple surgery could repair... I now look back and remember what seems like the longest day of my life. The appointment took forever, we waited for almost an hour and a half before even being called back. When we finally did go back, they began the ultrasound that also took another hour or so. When she first started, our kind technician did all of the normal scans, and after a few scans of her face, we quickly recognized that our baby girl had a complete cleft of the lip and palate.

"Okay, we can do this."

My mind went to planning and processing... as the technician continued her thorough inspection of our baby... a little too "thorough" around the heart.. the brain... the spine... but not the face.

"Doesn't she know why we're here? Our baby has a cleft.. shouldn't she be looking at her face? Why is she taking SO many pictures of her heart? her spine? her brain? Does she see something I can't? Is there more?"

All of these agonizing questions rolled around in my mind for the duration of the ultrasound, which seemed like an eternity. Finally, she put the tools away and said she would step out to find Dr. E. So there sat Craig and I...

"She sees something else doesn't she?"

"Yeah, definitely something with the spine.."

"What do you think she saw?"

"I have no idea.."

And there we sat for 15 minutes going back and forth with our questions. Still, I wasn't prepared. When the doctor walked in he greeted us, but it was very methodical and ominous. He said that though he was sure the cleft was obvious, "its clear your baby has some more serious issues."

"My baby? The one on the screen?"

He then proceeded to go through, in medical terms, each of our baby's vital organs and explain what was wrong them. Her heart has a hole, it's missing a major artery, her brain isn't connected, her liver has too much calcium, her kidneys are the wrong size... on and on and on. (On the summary sheet we received later, there was a neat little chart which showed that more of her parts were considered "abnormal" than "normal") Craig and I just sat there, holding hands, nodding...

Dr. E finished his explanation by concluding that our baby most likely had a genetic disorder, a chromosomal one. A Trisomy. (we would later learn Trisomy 13 to be exact...) "Do you know what that is?" he asked. I did. Unfortunately, I did. Craig said, "No", so the doctor proceeded to explain it to him, while my mind drifted back to a blog about a sweet woman and her daughter Nora Rose, who had been born with Trisomy 18. I recalled how I had followed her blog years before and ached for her, cried for her, prayed for her... and now, it seemed, I was to be her. The doctor explained how our daughter's condition was fatal, how she was "incompatible with life" (a phrase that I have now come to deplore because of how often I have to hear it in reference to my living baby girl...) The doctor offered us a few moments alone before sending us to have a blood test to be done to confirm his diagnosis. Up to this point, my movements, responses had been almost mechanical, nodding, agreeing, but the second he left, Craig pulled me into his arms and we just cried.

No words, no thoughts, just sorrow. Just brokenness. The loss of our child. Our hopes, our dreams, our plans. OUR plans.

"This ISN'T part of the plan."

As soon as I thought it, I realized that it wasn't true; it wasn't part of MY plan. But it had always been a part of HIS. God had known. He had known when He created her life. He wasn't taken by surprise, caught off guard. He formed her. Of course He had known all along. And He knows more still: He knows how long her life will be, how much we will love and miss her, how He will sustain us through each day and the days ahead, how He will give us faith that is not of ourselves, peace that is beyond understanding. He already knows, has already PLANNED the good that He will bring out of the brokenness and heartache we are now experiencing.  Most of all, He already KNOWS how He will be glorified and honored through it all.

THESE are the steps that HE ordered. I can't pretend we understand why, and honestly that's not a question that has even come into our minds. I know that I don't know, that I may never know why the Lord has given, and why the Lord is taking away. But I understand that He loves me, that He cares for me, that He promises to be faithful to me. And so we have peace, we have hope. Not in the circumstances we are in, not in the sickness of our daughter, not in our future loss of her. But in who God IS. Who He has ALWAYS been. In who we KNOW Him to BE.

And knowing Him means we can trust Him, hope in Him, rest in Him, to fulfill His glorious and beautiful purposes in and through our life, our loss, our sorrow and the precious life of our sweet Loran Ruth.