Where to Begin...

Where to begin? So many thoughts and emotions surrounding this baby’s arrival, the gravity of his condition, and how our lives are about to change forever, loom on this pregnant momma’s mind constantly throughout my days. I’d be lying if I said that I was ready to for this new chapter to begin. If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be about ready to deliver our first child, I would have been overwhelmed with joy and excitement, after struggling with infertility for years. I have been wanting to write a blog for the past couple of days but there are so many different aspects that I want to write about; I don’t know how I would successfully cram it all into one blog—but I’m daring enough to try!

I have to tell you, that Stephen and I have been overwhelmed by how the past couple of weeks have played out. I don’t think I could even begin to effectively communicate just how much God has provided for us and continued to pave the way as we prepare for Easton’s arrival. People, some strangers and some friends, have willingly opened their homes to us over the past few weeks. When we found out about our little man’s condition, I always had a peace when it came to where we would stay in Houston; I never once doubted that God would provide and He certainly has. We’ve met people and attended churches who have heard of our story, and who have been faithfully praying for us since they found out about Easton. As I try to wrap my mind around it, it’s hard to process it all because it’s bigger than my little mind can comprehend. That’s when the tears, uncertainties, and doubts about Easton’s diagnosis and condition seem to slow down a little because I think about how God is orchestrating it all—He has captivated my heart to trust him because Easton’s heart is not perfect.

Recently, three of my friends have had babies, and they have all shared how they are excited for me to experience motherhood with Easton, but I can’t help but question what motherhood will look like (for me). Part of me thinks, sure, I’m just the same as them, but then the other part of me, knows that I’ll have such a different experience. I think one of the hardest parts in our situation is acceptance. I’ve played along, accepting news as it comes because that’s what all moms do—you do what you have to for your babies. But some of the hardest news to accept is knowing that I probably won’t get to hold my son until the day after his birth. (Insert dagger in my heart) I’ve been scheduled to have a c-section, and I honestly never made a birth plan because I didn’t even know if I would make it full term. Well, here I am, nice and plump, 39 weeks pregnant, and finally having to accept being cut open (that sounds dramatic—but it is true). After they get Easton out, they will show him to me, and then a team of NICU doctors will stabilize him and assess his condition before they take him off to the CVICU. Stephen will go with the baby and the NICU team over the CVICU, as the cardiology team begins to run his first echo and try to put define his diagnosis. All the while, I’ll be sewn up and wheeled away to recovery. Once I’ve been in recovery and then relocated to a hospital room, I’ve been told to expect a potential 12-hour recovery before I can go over and meet my son. I don’t even know what to think or how to process being in the hospital, birthing a child, and then having to wait to meet him. It’s hard and I’m sure I’m not the only one who has ever walked this path, but it doesn’t make accepting that it’s my path any easier.

As a believer, Easton’s heart not being complete doesn’t make me question the existence of God, but it does make me question why God chose us to be Easton’s parents and why his little heart isn’t whole. I know that deep down, his heart not being whole and the pain/suffering we’ve endured the past four months has made us cling to the truth and hope of something greater than all of our affliction. Hope. A hope of a life that knows no sorrow, pain, suffering, and where we are all complete. For those of you reading who aren’t a believer, it’s ok. You don’t have to believe what I believe and you can totally think that I’m sipping on some “kool-aid” theology, but at the end of the day, I go back to my core and put my hope and faith in the one who holds my future. I can tell you, with assurance, that I do not hold my future, nor do I care to at this point in time. I don’t understand it all but even tonight, as we were eating dinner, and I was overly emotional (again—what is up with these 39 week pregnancy hormones?!?), Stephen reminded me that all of this is for the better. How? I don’t know, but if I ever find out, I’m sure I’ll write a blog post about it:) 

So, what’s next? Well, we wait—with great anticipation, fear, worry, concern, but also with hope. This time, next week, we will have a son, as long as he doesn’t make his arrival before then. Easton Bauer Sparks is set to make his debut next Monday, June 15^th. I can’t begin to tell you how much this date overwhelms me but it makes me think back over our journey and know that it is from the prayers, love, encouragement, and support of so many that we’ve made it. What started off as a beautiful February day ended up with us hearing potentially some of the hardest news of our married life—that our little boy’s heart was broken, he wasn’t promised to live a long life, and I wasn’t promised I’d make it to full term pregnancy. Today, a beautiful day in June, I write being 39 weeks pregnant, with a baby who weighs over 8lbs, and his health and growth has left the medical community puzzled. Easton is a fighter. He is the little red ninja. He has made our marriage stronger. He’s made us focus on what’s important. He has brought us closer to friends and family. He’s taught others how to help those in pain and suffering. And all of this, before he even takes his first breath on this Earth. It takes me back to one of my previous thoughts in this blog—why us, why were we chosen to be Easton’s parents? All along, God knew and He still knows what’s best for us. On days like today where my brain is in panic mode and I can’t seem to wipe the tears fast enough, I’m reminded that God has chosen us to be apart of a beautiful story. A story who’s ending I don’t know—there isn’t a summary on the back of the book; it’s one of those stories that you have to patiently read page by page.