My Double Life

I feel like I’ve been living two lives lately. 

No, this isn’t some confession of a duplicitous, devious second self. I mean it for real. Although I don’t usually blog about details of my personal life, I think I’ll make an exception today. After all, I’ve posted every week or two for the past three years, and now that pattern may be disrupted for a little while. 

Why? Because I have a NICU baby. 

Foiled Plans

Several months ago, we found out that the baby girl I was expecting was at risk for four different complications, three of which basically ruled out our plan for a home birth. To say I was bummed out doesn’t quite sum it up. I had delivered my first baby at home with a wonderful midwife and a superstar birth team including my husband and sister. That birth was no walk in the park, but at least I knew and trusted everyone who was present. We were all on the same page about what was best for baby. I didn’t have to worry about them whisking him away as soon as he (eveeeeentually) popped out. I felt safe.

But as it became apparent that Baby Girl might require immediate assistance even for breathing or circulation, the dream of a second home birth was washed out to sea by the waves of The Greater Good. But that’s all right. Worse things have happened, right?

Expecting the Unexpected

Then I underwent several tests so the doctors could figure out what, exactly, we could expect when she arrived. They tossed out scary-sounding diagnoses. Polyhydramnios. Duodenal atresia. Dilated esophagus. Trisomy 21. Missing hepatic portion of the inferior vena cava. Of course I knew that not every baby is born perfectly healthy. There are myriad problems that can surface even before birth. I just never applied that fact to my baby. But there we were, meeting with five medical professionals from different departments, all bracing us for surgery and an extended NICU stay when Baby finally arrived. This was certainly not in my plans. 

What’s In a Name?

We decided on a name just over a month before Baby Girl was due. Because I’m slow to commit to anything, that was a big deal for me. We didn’t officially name our son until we were already holding him. But with our daughter, we wanted a name sooner. The doctors were telling me that, because I had a humongous excess of amniotic fluid, I might pop early. We wanted to be prepared for at least one thing: her name. 

We chose Evangeline Sparrow. Evangeline means “bringer of good news.” While much of the news from doctors had been far from good, there was still much to be thankful for. The complications they expected weren’t fatal. With surgery and care, they were surmountable. That was plenty to rejoice in! But the good news we had in mind was the news of God’s love in the gospel. We wanted Eva’s story to bring hope of God’s mercy and grace wherever it was told. 

We chose Sparrow because of the comforting truth in Matthew 10:29-31. Jesus assures his disciples that not a sparrow falls to the ground apart from the Father’s sovereign will. If God cares even for something as cheap and common as a sparrow, how much more will he care for our baby, whom He had chosen for this special task of spreading His glory? 

Special Delivery

So we kicked our nursery preparations into high gear. She was due on February 28, but I had a sneaking suspicion we’d be meeting her sooner. Sure enough, my regular “practice contractions” started getting more serious on Friday, Jan. 29. I went through days of trying to take it easy. We wanted her to bake until she was 37 weeks, at which time the surgeons said they would be comfortable operating on her. On Jan. 29, I wasn’t even at the 36-week mark yet. 

By Tuesday, Feb. 2, I couldn’t deny that the contractions weren’t for practice anymore. Early Wednesday morning, at 36 weeks and three days, we headed to the hospital. At 6:01 A.M., Eva made her grand entrance into the world, breathing, crying, and filling us all with thankfulness for the health she had. She was a full six pounds and looked great. I got to snuggle with her for 30 minutes (another miracle!) before they took her away for tests. Miracle of miracles: of the four concerns they’d had for her, only one remained! Thank you, God! 

A Short Surgery and a Long Recovery

The one issue they’d expected all along turned out to be true: she had duodenal atresia, which is a blocked intestine below the stomach. Without surgery she wouldn’t be able to digest anything. They planned the surgery for the very next morning. Afterward, the surgeon drew us pictures of what “normal” insides looked like compared to what Eva’s insides looked like. God was really getting creative when he knit her together; many of her organs were in unexpected places. The surgeon connected things as well as she could, hoping that food would be able to pass through the stomach and into the intestines. So began the waiting game. 

They had let us know in advance that this surgery could take up to a month to heal. So far we’ve been watching and praying for two and a half weeks with very little visible progress. There have been scary moments and encouraging moments, but it sure has added up to a lot of moments. I wanted God to tell the story my way—if Eva had to have surgery, I wanted the world’s fastest recovery so everyone could celebrate God’s miraculous healing, and then we could take our baby home. But He must have a different story in mind because we’re still waiting. 

Blessings In Disguise

And this is where I find myself—living a double life. I spend the mornings at home with my husband and son. We play, eat, and do all the normal things we’ve always done. Then in the evenings I go see Eva. I sit in a quiet room holding my (usually) sleeping girl and listen to the beeping of her machines, the chatter of the nurses, the breathing of my baby. Hours go by pretty quickly there. Then I come home, go to bed, wake up, and do it all again.

And through it all, God has lavished his love on us. Eva’s surgery isn’t healing as quickly as we’d like, but it’s not infected. She seems comfortable most of the time, apart from the tube that pumps the fluid from her stomach and out of her mouth. She’s getting rest and growing stronger. Our family and friends have stepped in to help with everything from watching our son and bringing us meals to washing our dishes and fighting off a monstrous raccoon that stole the cornbread muffins from our front porch. (True story!) Many people have given money to help with medical expenses. Hundreds of people are praying. We are humbled on a daily basis by these tangible acts of love. God is good!

One Day at a Time

Yes, my heart feels the strain of this double life—sometimes more, sometimes less, but always present. We long for the day that we can bring Eva home. Until then, I’m thankful for the chance to spend time with both of my babies. God is sovereign over all of it, and as much as I’d like Him to tell the story my way, I’m learning to trust His plan. 

So if I don’t send out a blog post as often as usual, I’m sure you’ll excuse my tardiness. And if you think of it, please pray for Eva and pray for us. May God be glorified. Thank you, friends!