Category Archives: Snippets

Ainsley texted me saying Gelayol (another amazing woman from church) was coming to pray if I wanted to join. I said yep; I would be there though I wanted to be anywhere but there. If anyone knows me crying on someone’s shoulder, being vulnerable, etc., is my worst nightmare. Sure enough, I was center stage, and the tears weren’t just flowing. They were spewing out of my eyes. I could barely catch my breath. I sat there as they prayed over me and felt like it was time to get involved in my own story. God was asking me to speak aloud some of the lies I had allowed Satan to tell. I knew they were lies, but I felt they had attached somewhere in my DNA, and I was ready to get them off me.
-God had spoken to Tyler and me about foster care, and I irresponsibly got pregnant. Not out of spite, but he was allowing this to happen because I disobeyed.
-God is MORE disciplinary than loving. He allows suffering because He wants us to grow.
-There is more corruption and dysfunction in the world than this tiny baby having a backward heart. How could He have the same compassion for me when my life is pretty kush.
LIES, LIES, LIES.
As I confessed each of these ugly words, they detangled themselves and left my body. I was reminded this baby is a gift to Tyler and me, but he does not belong to us, and we are called to be his parents regardless of what his interworkings might turn out to be. We have ONE option: to plead with God that we would get to glimpse the kingdom of God on this side of heaven. I felt different going into this scan. I guess you could say I felt at peace—what a gift.
We entered the same doors as the day before: same gloom, but a bit of new hope. We met Dr. Chan, our babe’s cardiologist. Dr. Chan’s voice is tender and calming. He thoroughly looked at the heart and gave us some good (if you can call it good) news. His delivery was quite different. TGA is complex but fixable. Most babies do well since they never get a chance to live with a normal heart. He explained the intricacies of the surgery. They take the walnut-sized heart out of their little bodies and perform an Arterial switch operation. Chances of stillbirth are low, survival of surgery is high. Kids with TGA go on most of the time to live a semi-normal life. Genetic issues are still possible, and complications from the surgery causing more surgeries in young childhood are a risk. Still, if I allow my mind to rabbit trail into all of the what if’s, I will be back throwing up in my toilet, and honestly, I don’t have time for that.
The cherry on top of the day is that I just so happened to interact with two other moms (one through insta and one through a friend) who also had Dr. Chan and the same surgeon we will most likely have.
The familiar feeling came back —the sense of breathing for a second, and I guess you could call that feeling peace.

• 

• 

This is long buckle-up.

Tyler came home from London HALLELUJAH LORD ALMIGHTY! I was anticipating him being at home so he could help me wrangle, but most of all so I could feel less isolated in this weird in-between of unknown. I dropped Si off with a friend, picked up T from work, and we drove the wet, cold, dark, depressing drive to the doctor. The technician did a comprehensive scan of his heart. After she was done, we were asked to go to another room to chat with the doc. My heart sank. This. Was bad. We looked at one another; we knew it. We sat in the room, and the doctor proceeded to tell us that our baby had transposition of the great arteries-TGA. TGA is one of the rarest and most fatal congenital heart defects. There is no cure; the chance of stillbirth is high–if you make it full term, open-heart surgery will be done the first week of life. This surgery is a milestone if he does make it. There is a higher chance of other genetic disorders, a higher chance of abnormalities, and lastly, not sure if this will be one of many surgeries, etc. etc. etc. blah. blah. blah. She reminded us we had two weeks to terminate and I completely tuned everything out from there. I became more concerned I would throw up on the table than listen to anything else this woman had to say. I wanted to punch this innocent doctor in the only spot visible on her face, right in the place between her protective goggles and covid mask. We made an appointment for the next day with the cardiologist and the elevator shut. I began to wale. The waling did not stop.

We got home. I curled into bed, only getting up to vomit here and there. We put the boys to bed, and Tyler and I looked at each other, still in shock. He said, ok, let’s figure out how we are going to move forward with this. What do we think? What do we believe? I said, well–it’s our responsibility to believe in a miracle. If we have based our lives on the belief that our God cares, sees, and heals, then this was our test if we believed it or not. I wasn’t sure.

Tyler had been in London for the week. He brought a new team from Bridgetown to visit our sister-ish church to KXC. His week was busy. He preached multiple times, had tons of meetings, and was installed as the US director for 24/7 prayer. No big deal. HA. The Monday before the team left, we sat in our living room full of expectation, knowing that these folks were most likely going to have a fantastic trip with incredible stories of crazy encounters with the Holy Spirit. The anticipation was palpable.

My mom (Mia) had flown to Portland, our new home, for the first time to help me take care of the boys/keep me sane while he was away. I dropped her off at the airport on Monday morning; both of us were a little more sleepy than average, not from the boys, but more because we stayed up way too late every night binge-watching Maid. (So GOOD). We said our goodbyes, and I returned home. Simon and I were playing with magnet tiles by the fire when Karen, my midwife, called. She asked if I had made an appointment for a heart echo. I had NO clue what she was talking about. Last I heard/saw, I had a 20-week anatomy scan just the week before where I was told my boy was perfect. Perfect baby, ten fingers, ten toes, a wiggly body, and a perfect little face– There was no mention of any issues with his heart. I didn’t panic as that’s usually never my MO and said, “sure, ok, totally, got it, I’ll call and make an appointment.

I set up some play-doh for the boys to play with, finished cleaning, and then sat for the first time. The worry set in. I obtained a copy of the actual scan (MISTAKE) because questions began to fill my mind. I bet it’s just a hole in his heart. Hm oh wait, probably a murmur or an arrhythmia, oh wait, what if it is what Van was born with and his heart needs severe operating on when he’s an adult? I looked at the scan and read a bunch of medical terms, and then instead of turning to God went straight to good ole Dr. Google. Perfect. Mistake number #2. LVOTO is all that showed as abnormal on the scan.

I couldn’t believe what I started to read once I typed those five daunting letters into my search queue. I shut my phone off, determined not to look one more thing up. I went to pick Hank up from school and tried my hardest to shove this weird news down deep into my stomach. Later, I texted Peter and Stephanie. Peter is a doctor and an elder at Bridgetown. I knew he’d tell me what was up, but most of all, I knew this couple would PRAY. They did just that. I knew as soon as I sounded the alarm they would be on their knees contending on behalf of my unborn son. 

I woke up the following day. I opened my eyes and immediately was devastated that I hadn’t had a nightmare. Hank and Si came running into my bed. This usually is very unwelcomed, but this morning I was just fine with the distraction. Hank grabbed my face. “Why in the world are you crying, mom?” Every part of me wanted to toss the news back into the bottomless pit, but I knew my son would not find that satisfactory. I said, look, Hank, your brother’s heart is sick, and it makes me angry and sad and confused, and that is why the tears. Hank, in Hank’s fashion, grabbed my face put his hand on my stomach, and said, “Mom, don’t worry, everything is going to be just fine. His heart is beating just a little too fast-he is going to be just fine”. (He is his father’s son). We will pray. You told me God could fix anything”.

I guess God knew at that moment that those words were more powerful coming from my 5-year-old than Mother Teresa herself.

.

The boys were racing around in their costumes from the moment they woke up. They had been anticipating this day for a while. Pumpkins, “spooky” activities, being with new friends, and most of all candy DUH. It was our first Halloween in Portland, and I must say it did not disappoint. We indeed ended the night too late for all our good and with stomachs coated with sugar. I will remember this day as the last before finding out our perfectly forming baby’s TGA diagnosis.