Sunday, Barry talked about ‘what happens when the sun doesn’t stand still?’ I wrote this a few years ago. This is what happened when the sun did not seem to stand still….
In October 2003, we found out that we were expecting our first child. At that point, Barry and I had been married for 4 years and I had been trying to convince him that we were ready for children for all 4 of those years. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when we found out the news. In December, we went to our first doctor’s appointment. We saw a little tiny peanut shaped something on the screen and saw the tiny little heartbeat. From that point, we were in full planning mode: nursery decorating, name picking, stroller shopping, etc. Things were great, right? Not really.
In October 2003, we found out that we were expecting our first child. At that point, Barry and I had been married for 4 years and I had been trying to convince him that we were ready for children for all 4 of those years. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when we found out the news. In December, we went to our first doctor’s appointment. We saw a little tiny peanut shaped something on the screen and saw the tiny little heartbeat. From that point, we were in full planning mode: nursery decorating, name picking, stroller shopping, etc. Things were great, right? Not really.
Personally, I was traveling through one of those ‘dark periods’ that we all have from time to time. Church folk call these times ‘valleys.’ Whatever you want to call it, God and I were definitely in negotiations. It was a difficult time for me. I remember sitting in church one Sunday morning while in the middle of this valley and refusing to worship. In my head, I knew what I was doing, but I excused myself on account of my ‘condition’ from engaging in worship.
Time passed and I began to get bigger. God and I had come to some sort of truce, at least for the time being. I had realized that the issue was my need to be in control and my reluctance to trust God. I was hoping that by acknowledging my lack of trust in Him things would be ‘OK.’ Maybe my epiphany would be enough.
By this time, we knew that we were carrying a baby girl, whom we would name Emma Jane Morton. She was due on July 4, 2004. In May, I started having some swelling but my doctor monitored my condition and didn’t seem too concerned. That all changed in a matter of hours. One day during a routine checkup, the doctor discovered that I had developed toxemia, a condition marked by swelling, elevated blood pressure, and declining kidney function. Left unchecked, toxemia can progress to eclampsia, which causes seizures. The only cure is to deliver the baby. Things started moving quickly. We were admitted to the hospital. The doctor decided that Emma would have to be born that very day. So, on May 28, 2004, Emma Jane Morton was born…seven weeks premature.
The first several minutes seemed fine, but very quickly, we realized that she was struggling to breathe. Immediately, my precious new baby was whisked away and hooked up to all kinds of machines. Over the next 24 hours, her condition worsened and she was life flighted to Arkansas Children’s Hospital in Little Rock. We were devastated and completely shaken. I made harsh accusations against God. ‘If you’re good, then what is this?’ ‘What have we done that would cause this?’ ‘Why did you let this happen?’ Yet again, I had no trust in the Almighty. My lesson was not over.
Over the next several weeks, we saw miracle after miracle. Emma made progress, breathing on her own, eating on her own, and gaining weight. Each day was so precious to us. Every little tiny improvement, we gave thanks to God. While we were in the hospital for that month, I had a lot of time to reflect. I was ashamed that at the first test of my faith, I accused God of things that I didn’t think were in me. At the first sign of trouble, I blamed God! I begged for forgiveness and once again thanked Him for being in control of my life. I still try to take the reins now and again, but I am reminded of how God taught me to give Him control.
There is one other thing I think about regarding this situation. What if my precious one had not lived? Would He have been less powerful, or good, or faithful? His ways are not my ways and His thoughts are not my thoughts. In all things, God is good, God is faithful, God is true. Whatever path He has for me is the one I want. My own way leads to death, but His Way leads to life. So, again God, I choose You.
December 2006: The last six months in the Morton Household had been very eventful. I had quit my teaching job in order to stay home with Emma and to free up time to partner with my husband in the ministry at Mt. Olive. We had seen God do some miracles with providing health insurance and providing less expensive home so that I could quit my teaching job. I was definitely on a ‘God-High.’ (You know—everything from my perspective was going just right. Thank You, Lord!) On Christmas Day, I got that sneaking suspicion that I might possibly be pregnant. I took a test—-negative, it said. However, I was fairly convinced that the test was wrong. On January 6, 2007, my suspicions were confirmed. The Morton 3 would soon be the Morton 4.
As you’ll remember, our first child was brought into the world very early. The LORD had definitely taught us some wonderful things through that time and I was thankful for the lessons, but I had also determined that this pregnancy would be different. I was faithful to pray fervently for a full-term pregnancy and for a safe delivery. Honestly, I prayed over every tiny detail concerning pregnancy and birth. I wanted to make sure I covered every possible base. (As if there are loop holes in prayer?!?!) My pregnancy was going wonderfully. My God-High continued.
It was August 8, 2007 and I found myself sitting in the wading pool at the Alma Aquatics Center trying to find respite from the 100+ degree weather. Anna Claire Morton was due September 13. With a little over a month to go, I was quite miserable. Ugh. Again, I was experiencing some swelling, but not to same degree as in my first pregnancy. Other than that, I felt just fine. I sat in that pool and reflected my pregnancy and dreamed about our new baby girl. It was a good day.
The next day I had a routine doctor’s appointment and ultrasound. My mom and dad were both going to come to see the 4-D ultrasound images. As the ultrasound tech did her job she mentioned that my amniotic fluid (that’s the fluid around the baby) was a little low. (Incidentally, I now know that ‘a little’ is ultrasound tech code for ‘Houston, we have a problem.’) We saw the doctor right away. She thought I might be dehydrated so she chose to admit me to the hospital overnight. I had IV’s in each arm for almost 24 hours. The hope was that my fluid levels would rise and I could go home. The level did not rise so I could not go home. In fact, just as with Emma, the doctor would have to deliver the baby within the hour. Another premature baby…
This time, instead of being broken hearted, I was livid. ‘GOD!’ I screamed in my soul, ‘are you deaf? Do you not hear? Have you not heard me the past 9 months? What loop hole did you find in my prayers?’ I was wheeled to the OR looking like I had been in a fight. (I don’t cry pretty.) The poor nurses and doctors tried to offer words of comfort, but the crazed, enraged look I gave them silenced those words. I wanted to speak to GOD face to face and demand an answer. ’My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?’
After the surgery, I spent hours (ok, I think it was 1 hour) in the recovery area. Alone. I was physically uncomfortable and I was spiritually uncomfortable. As I lay there, the LORD, in His way, began to comfort my soul. I felt His peace and love wash over me. And, as is common with me, in the light of His glory, I started to question myself. Did my faith really fall apart when things didn’t go as I had hoped? Had I really thought that my prayers were in vain? Had I really accused God of being less than good? It was déjà vu. I was even more ashamed this time. I thought I had already learned this lesson.
The next few days were rough. Anna Claire had the same breathing issues as Emma. She ended up on a ventilator for a few days. But, this time, I had also developed a mystery fever for 3 days and I was not allowed to visit my new baby girl. Thankfully, I was still in a numb fog. It was Sunday (she was born on Friday) before they wheeled me to her little isolette. I sat by her bed and wept. I was weeping because she was sick; I was weeping because she was better; I was weeping because I was grieved that my body didn’t carry her full-term; I was weeping because I had been so faithless; I was a mess. Poor Dr. Coloso, Anna’s neonatologist, came by with a Kleenex and said in his best Asian accent, ‘Why are you crying? You should be so happy!’ We still quote him. It was a precious moment. God had an Asian accent that day. All I could say was, ‘I am happy. I am happy.’ And in professing my happiness to Dr. Coloso, somehow in that moment, I did feel the joy of the LORD wash over me.
So, what did I learn through that? I believe that I am still processing all of that. There are lessons that I’ve yet to comprehend, but the biggest one is that sometimes the answer is ‘no.’ When things were good in my opinion, it was easy to give thanks to the LORD, but when things didn’t go as I had planned, I accused the LORD. I can only begged God that He would give me to grace to give thanks when the answer is ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘wait and see.’ God is good, no matter what.
-Sarah
To read other entries in the Sun Stand Still blog, please click here
Time passed and I began to get bigger. God and I had come to some sort of truce, at least for the time being. I had realized that the issue was my need to be in control and my reluctance to trust God. I was hoping that by acknowledging my lack of trust in Him things would be ‘OK.’ Maybe my epiphany would be enough.
By this time, we knew that we were carrying a baby girl, whom we would name Emma Jane Morton. She was due on July 4, 2004. In May, I started having some swelling but my doctor monitored my condition and didn’t seem too concerned. That all changed in a matter of hours. One day during a routine checkup, the doctor discovered that I had developed toxemia, a condition marked by swelling, elevated blood pressure, and declining kidney function. Left unchecked, toxemia can progress to eclampsia, which causes seizures. The only cure is to deliver the baby. Things started moving quickly. We were admitted to the hospital. The doctor decided that Emma would have to be born that very day. So, on May 28, 2004, Emma Jane Morton was born…seven weeks premature.
The first several minutes seemed fine, but very quickly, we realized that she was struggling to breathe. Immediately, my precious new baby was whisked away and hooked up to all kinds of machines. Over the next 24 hours, her condition worsened and she was life flighted to Arkansas Children’s Hospital in Little Rock. We were devastated and completely shaken. I made harsh accusations against God. ‘If you’re good, then what is this?’ ‘What have we done that would cause this?’ ‘Why did you let this happen?’ Yet again, I had no trust in the Almighty. My lesson was not over.
Over the next several weeks, we saw miracle after miracle. Emma made progress, breathing on her own, eating on her own, and gaining weight. Each day was so precious to us. Every little tiny improvement, we gave thanks to God. While we were in the hospital for that month, I had a lot of time to reflect. I was ashamed that at the first test of my faith, I accused God of things that I didn’t think were in me. At the first sign of trouble, I blamed God! I begged for forgiveness and once again thanked Him for being in control of my life. I still try to take the reins now and again, but I am reminded of how God taught me to give Him control.
There is one other thing I think about regarding this situation. What if my precious one had not lived? Would He have been less powerful, or good, or faithful? His ways are not my ways and His thoughts are not my thoughts. In all things, God is good, God is faithful, God is true. Whatever path He has for me is the one I want. My own way leads to death, but His Way leads to life. So, again God, I choose You.
December 2006: The last six months in the Morton Household had been very eventful. I had quit my teaching job in order to stay home with Emma and to free up time to partner with my husband in the ministry at Mt. Olive. We had seen God do some miracles with providing health insurance and providing less expensive home so that I could quit my teaching job. I was definitely on a ‘God-High.’ (You know—everything from my perspective was going just right. Thank You, Lord!) On Christmas Day, I got that sneaking suspicion that I might possibly be pregnant. I took a test—-negative, it said. However, I was fairly convinced that the test was wrong. On January 6, 2007, my suspicions were confirmed. The Morton 3 would soon be the Morton 4.
As you’ll remember, our first child was brought into the world very early. The LORD had definitely taught us some wonderful things through that time and I was thankful for the lessons, but I had also determined that this pregnancy would be different. I was faithful to pray fervently for a full-term pregnancy and for a safe delivery. Honestly, I prayed over every tiny detail concerning pregnancy and birth. I wanted to make sure I covered every possible base. (As if there are loop holes in prayer?!?!) My pregnancy was going wonderfully. My God-High continued.
It was August 8, 2007 and I found myself sitting in the wading pool at the Alma Aquatics Center trying to find respite from the 100+ degree weather. Anna Claire Morton was due September 13. With a little over a month to go, I was quite miserable. Ugh. Again, I was experiencing some swelling, but not to same degree as in my first pregnancy. Other than that, I felt just fine. I sat in that pool and reflected my pregnancy and dreamed about our new baby girl. It was a good day.
The next day I had a routine doctor’s appointment and ultrasound. My mom and dad were both going to come to see the 4-D ultrasound images. As the ultrasound tech did her job she mentioned that my amniotic fluid (that’s the fluid around the baby) was a little low. (Incidentally, I now know that ‘a little’ is ultrasound tech code for ‘Houston, we have a problem.’) We saw the doctor right away. She thought I might be dehydrated so she chose to admit me to the hospital overnight. I had IV’s in each arm for almost 24 hours. The hope was that my fluid levels would rise and I could go home. The level did not rise so I could not go home. In fact, just as with Emma, the doctor would have to deliver the baby within the hour. Another premature baby…
This time, instead of being broken hearted, I was livid. ‘GOD!’ I screamed in my soul, ‘are you deaf? Do you not hear? Have you not heard me the past 9 months? What loop hole did you find in my prayers?’ I was wheeled to the OR looking like I had been in a fight. (I don’t cry pretty.) The poor nurses and doctors tried to offer words of comfort, but the crazed, enraged look I gave them silenced those words. I wanted to speak to GOD face to face and demand an answer. ’My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?’
After the surgery, I spent hours (ok, I think it was 1 hour) in the recovery area. Alone. I was physically uncomfortable and I was spiritually uncomfortable. As I lay there, the LORD, in His way, began to comfort my soul. I felt His peace and love wash over me. And, as is common with me, in the light of His glory, I started to question myself. Did my faith really fall apart when things didn’t go as I had hoped? Had I really thought that my prayers were in vain? Had I really accused God of being less than good? It was déjà vu. I was even more ashamed this time. I thought I had already learned this lesson.
The next few days were rough. Anna Claire had the same breathing issues as Emma. She ended up on a ventilator for a few days. But, this time, I had also developed a mystery fever for 3 days and I was not allowed to visit my new baby girl. Thankfully, I was still in a numb fog. It was Sunday (she was born on Friday) before they wheeled me to her little isolette. I sat by her bed and wept. I was weeping because she was sick; I was weeping because she was better; I was weeping because I was grieved that my body didn’t carry her full-term; I was weeping because I had been so faithless; I was a mess. Poor Dr. Coloso, Anna’s neonatologist, came by with a Kleenex and said in his best Asian accent, ‘Why are you crying? You should be so happy!’ We still quote him. It was a precious moment. God had an Asian accent that day. All I could say was, ‘I am happy. I am happy.’ And in professing my happiness to Dr. Coloso, somehow in that moment, I did feel the joy of the LORD wash over me.
So, what did I learn through that? I believe that I am still processing all of that. There are lessons that I’ve yet to comprehend, but the biggest one is that sometimes the answer is ‘no.’ When things were good in my opinion, it was easy to give thanks to the LORD, but when things didn’t go as I had planned, I accused the LORD. I can only begged God that He would give me to grace to give thanks when the answer is ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘wait and see.’ God is good, no matter what.
-Sarah
To read other entries in the Sun Stand Still blog, please click here
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