About A Baby

I'd like to tell you the story of how this picture came about. I bled last month.


We went to ER in a panic, biting back tears and praying that the baby was okay.

I sat in a thin blue hospital gown and read Psalm 34 and prayed and praised and tried to breathe.

"I sought the Lord and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant and their faces shall never be ashamed..."


Hours later, the doctor, frazzled and grey, pressed the ultrasound scanner to my barely there baby bump and looked at the monitor screen. "He looks like he's praying." (Later, I tell Ryan, "If he/she lives, and it's a boy, we need to name him Daniel, after the man of prayer.")

We listened to the heartbeat, watched the tiny one jump, and left in joy. Our baby lived.

But my bleeding didn't stop. We were told 50-50 chance of survival; a possible miscarriage. I didn't want to miscarry my baby, and I very much feared I would.

At long last, I quiet and I listen to still songs, and my soul calms and I suddenly need to cry. Not because not knowing is hard but because I feel release and the release is a promise. He knows; He knows. 

I have wished to either know one way or the other: that the baby would be just fine and he always will be, or that he has passed on. The not knowing - the fear of what could be - is what terrifies me.

Another doctor's appointment, another strong heartbeat. Our baby lives, but I still bleed.

A thought comes to me slow: perhaps suffering is necessary so that we will depend only on our God. That it makes us dig deep and find solace abounds. That I have been made to bleed so I can be taught to praise. And there is shelter in praise.

He turns all things beautiful in their time. Giver of beauty for ashes, gladness for mourning. Giver of Life, He who brings all things to completion. (Even babies.)

I ponder this. I dream one night of having a son and naming him Daniel Judah: a man of prayer and praise. I praise.

Faith is the assurance of things unseen, and in praise I find a deep peace that God will sustain him (or her).

Another doctor's appointment, another strong heartbeat. This time, I see a tiny perfectly formed skeleton and wee fingers and a tiny adorable nose. (Good heavens. I grew bones. I've never done this before, you know.) It is a shockingly generous gift to grow life. Who am I that I should grow a human soul?

And the praise is driving out fear and I am saved. Because He is a God who longs to deliver. And He is good.