Mary's Prenatal Diagnosis

Christmas 2016 was not the most joyous in my collection of yuletide memories. I was "great with child," but even more burdensome than my cumbersome belly was the weight of anxiety heavy on my heart and mind. We were two months away from our due date with Verity (FT18), and though I had learned much in the couple of months since our diagnosis, I felt I had absolutely no idea what to expect in the days and weeks ahead of us.

This year, we are grateful and blessed to be celebrating our 4th Christmas with Verity Irene. And while our everyday life now is characterized by an unexpected sense of "normalcy," I will never forget the uncertainty and angst that blanketed our holidays that year.

I'm sure Mary felt those emotions as well! She had a "prenatal diagnosis," if you will--it was revealed to her that she would carry a special child, too! Can you just imagine the uncertainty SHE felt?! Where and when would she deliver her baby? What would the outcome be of a pregnancy that from the outside looked to be illegitimate? How would she attend to the special needs of a child who would be like no other?

God's heavenly purposes are carried out in each and every individual, including the precious babies who have an "anomaly." It is true that some are called to heaven before even taking a breath on earth. And it is true that some get to experience life only for a short time. Our thoughts and prayers are with those families who are mourning and missing those babies. And we continue to pray for the ones who are still growing and for the mamas carrying them, waiting for the next chapter in their own lives to unfold.

From the Jacobson family to all of you--I wish you a merry Christmas. May you savor the quietness of the season and experience true rest...may you know the grace and peace that only comes from the real reason for the season.

P.S. If you or someone you know has received a prenatal diagnosis, I'd love to offer encouragement and support. 

Let Freedom Ring!

This is an Independence Day post, but I will start with a flashback to Christmas vacation when I was tucking my 3 little boys in bed. Lucan, my 8yo, was talking about something (I don't recall what exactly) that would happen in the future, and he was rattling off the ages he and his siblings would be at the time. His words were matter of fact: "I'll be 12, Zaden will be 10, Seanin will be 8, Rhema will be 6, and Verity will be 4, if she's still alive."

If she's still alive?!?!

My breath caught in my throat, and a knot formed in my stomach.

I don't remember how that conversation ended, whether I said anything in particular or not. I only remember standing outside of the bedroom after the door was closed and sobbing my eyes out.

Two months later, on February 28, 2018, Verity turned one year old. It was a huge milestone. Statistics we had heard since Verity was in utero indicated if she reached that one-year birthday, she would be one of the 5-10% who did.

The very next morning, March 1, Lucan ran upstairs to find his baby sister. When he saw her, his eyes grew round, and he shouted with excitement, "She's still alive!!!"

The weight of his surprise settled on my shoulders with a heavy realization: my sweet, tenderhearted son thought Verity would succumb to statistics now that her birthday was over.

And it hit me that twice now, my son had voiced the uncertainty of the burden under which we all were living, even if we didn't talk about it or acknowledge it...even if we didn't realize it was there to begin with.

Verity's birthday party came and went. Appointments, therapies, sleepless nights, little developments and progress, an overnight stay in the hospital, a bit of regression, more appointments and therapies, another hospital admission, recovery, more appointments and therapies, more developments...days slipped into weeks, which turned into months. And at some point in the middle of all this daily LIFE, I experienced a startling realization.

We had spent pretty much all of Verity's first year of life holding our breath, waiting...in a sense...to see if she would die.

Does that sound absolutely awful? I was heartbroken when I realized how true it was. We had said goodbye to more little ones in our Trisomy community than I could have imagined possible. Some of our closest little friends were in and out of the hospital, some fighting for their lives and making miraculous recoveries, while others fought valiantly only to slip away.

The unspoken question in our house for so many months--How long would Verity be with us?--somehow evaporated. We submitted requests for therapeutic and adaptive equipment. We registered for the Support Organization for Trisomy family conference. We stopped subconsciously wondering whether our baby would leave us and simply enjoyed living with her.

Do you know what that is, friends?

Freedom.

Freedom from fear and worry.
Freedom from uncertainty.
Freedom from depression and anxiety.
Freedom to savor and relish the little things.
Freedom from expectations.
Freedom to simply...be.

I'd be lying if I said we never feel fear creeping in. (A bout with aspiration pneumonia terrified me as I watched my baby struggle to breathe.) And I'd be misleading you if I said I never deal with uncertainty, or if I said I have managed to perfectly enjoy and cherish Every Single Moment instead of being concerned with what's for dinner or whether the toilets have been cleaned recently.

But overall? Our lives are characterized by far more joy than nail-biting fear. This is a testimony to the grace of God in our lives, to the growth He has allowed us to experience because of the sweet and precious gift He gave us in Verity.

I've told friends that I feel as though we have come out of a long, dark tunnel, that we are finally able to see the light and the beauty every day even though some days are still really hard.

And that to me is FREEDOM.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

    because the Lord has anointed me

    to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

    to proclaim freedom for the captives

    and release from darkness for the prisoners,

  to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

    and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

    instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

    instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

    instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

    a planting of the Lord

    for the display of his splendor.

--Isaiah 61:1-3

Celebrating LIFE

A few weeks back our small group leader approached me to discuss the fact that some ladies in our church were wanting to put together a baby shower to honor Verity's life and to be a blessing to our family. I was so incredibly touched, especially when she asked for my input and acknowledged that no one was quite sure how to go about doing this given our situation.

Mamas in my FB Trisomy community gave some valuable input, which I passed on to Connie, and the ladies did an amazing job of putting together what truly was a celebration full of joy and meaning. Our church family showered us with love and blessings last night, and we are humbled, encouraged, and thankful.

The event was open to husbands as well as wives...I believe this was our first couple's shower, now that I think about it! It was so nice that Ted's mom is also here with us and was able to be a part of the evening. We left our kids at home in the capable care of their teen siblings along with another larger family who joined forces with them for what was, I'm sure, a rowdy and delightful evening for the kids as well, lol.

The potluck dinner was wonderful with plenty of good fellowship and fun shower games to keep us engaged. As I looked around the room at the nearly 3 dozen people who had gathered with us in person, I was overwhelmed not only at who was there attending our celebration in person, but also at the many who have expressed their love and support and were not able to be physically present, whether from our own small church community or from vast distances.

Our pastor shared some thoughts from Psalm 139, a beautiful and profound message. He has given me permission to share publicly, which I will do in a separate post at another time. Then we closed the evening singing "10,000 Reasons," "Blessed Be the Name," and "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." It was a beautiful and precious time with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

At home, Ted and I had some quiet moments reading the beautiful messages folks had written for us. The gift card and money tree is a blessing that will keep on giving as we reserve the resources and wait to see what Verity will need. And our freezer already has a stash of meals that will be easy to prepare when things start happening and Mom isn't home to oversee the menu plan.

I confess I was uncertain going into the event whether I would end up being emotional, but honestly, it was truly such a celebration with so many dear friends that there was no sadness at all, only joy and thankfulness in shared acknowledgement of precious truths...

"Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me...let me be singing when the evening comes...
Bless the Lord, oh my soul, oh my soul,
Worship His holy name;
Sing like never before, oh my soul, worship His holy name."

"Blessed be your name when the sun's shining down on me, when the world's all as it should be,
Blessed be your name.
Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering,
Blessed be your name.
Every blessing you pour out I'll turn back to praise;
When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say: 'Blessed be the name of the Lord...'"

"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth; Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow...blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.
Great is Thy faithfulness, great is Thy faithfulness, morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided; great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me."

Oh, yes! One other thing I think is worthy of reporting...Ted, his mom, and I were all approached at various times and told in no uncertain terms that I was NOT to write thank-you notes, that we had enough going on in our lives and no one wanted me to have additional stress! So sweet! But my mama raised me right, so I WILL write a note for Connie to put in the church bulletin...that was deemed acceptable, lol. I love the hearts of these men and women who didn't even want their names on the money tree envelopes.

Of Demon Bugs and Broken Alabaster Jars

Written in my journal October 28, 2016, at a beautiful setting for our fall ladies' retreat:

I'm at the retreat center now, sitting outside on a beautiful late afternoon, feeling the wind in my hair, the cup of hot tea on my lap, and little Verity dancing in my belly. I'm on a wooden bench in front of a simple wooden cross. The lake behind and below this little overlook is entrancing with its endless ripples moving in the same wind that sways the branches above me and tosses leaves beneath me.

It is extraordinarily peaceful. I long to fully enjoy this quiet solitude. But I am irritated by these stupid little stinging black bugs! They have been a source of evil distraction since I first sat down, causing me to don my sweater despite the warm temperature. I've swatted and murdered a growing number of these diminutive demons, but their constant presence is definitely marring this experience! I had hoped for some poignant, reflective moments, maybe a rhema word from the Lord. And while I have searched out some Scripture and used my Blue Letter Bible app for a quick word study, so far this hasn't been the spiritual awakening and/or renewal I was envisioning!

Somehow that seems all too appropriate. I sit at the foot of the cross, longing to fully worship my Jesus but instead swatting at the demons of fear and anger, whose legions continue to torment me even though through Jesus I live in a place of rest and peace. I realize--NOW--as I write this--that these horrid little bugs, stirred up by the recent harvest, will linger through these warm, mild days, finally dying in the cold and dark days of winter.

As I think about the darkest times in my life up to this point, I realize that my deepest worship, the truest worship I have ever been capable of offering, has come in the cold, dark days of winter: times of death, loss, pain, hardship. And the doubts and fear? Gone. Dead. Completely overshadowed and overcome by the One who is worthy of all my worship, not because of what He did or didn't do in that season, but simply because of WHO HE IS.

I don't know what our "winter" with Verity will look like. All I know is, my current struggle with the demon bugs is all too real. Yet I say with Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him" (Job 13:15). I hate the unknown, the uncertainty, with a passion. It's where the fear and frustration live and grow. But one thing I know--when the winter comes, I will yet praise Him. And the praise will slay the demons.

God...I have to trust you more than I need to explain you. I choose to continue offering myself to you. I want answers...I want a reason...but so much more than that? I want YOU. And I want you more than I want a sense of control. When my fingers tighten around the bottle you're asking me to pour out, then Lord--give me strength and courage to break that alabaster jar and let the extravagance overwhelm me and all who are near enough to inhale that fragrant offering. Make your name glorious, Jesus...my beautiful Savior.

Worship in the Storm of Suffering

Last Sunday morning I wrote the following to my prayer circle:

This morning I am torn. I long for music, prayer, corporate worship, and hearing from the Lord through His servants. But I dread facing our church family--some of whom already know [about Verity's diagnosis], but many others who don't. I can't stay home and hide forever. But I am not sure I'm ready to face this in a large group setting. We are very much in prayer about how and when to share publicly; our biggest desire is to bring the sacrifice of praise to our loving Father, the fruit of lips that confess His holy name. Salvation is found in no other name!

One of my dear friends, mentors, and ministry and prayer partners responded with this, below, which I share with her permission. It was a fitting response, especially in light of the fact that we celebrated the Lord's Supper during our church service (I did, in fact, end up attending the service with my family, sans mascara and with extra tissues in my pocket).

Oh my sweet friend. You are in a type of no man's land of sorrow and grief...I started to write something more and then received a picture of our Lord Jesus on the cross. Often we hear, and as believers we agree, that we are to walk with our Lord in His suffering....today I had the image of Jesus having to yield his flesh to the perfect will of the Father and He had to do so to the point of death. I saw a bloody, bruised, and brutalized Jesus. 

So how does this apply to the life of little Verity? She is God's perfect plan for you and Ted. You are carrying life, a sign of the love between the two of you and of the oneness of your relationship with God. You praise Him for life and you are continuing to praise Him not only with your lips, that sacrifice of praise, but with your continued devotion to Him as you walk out His plan in the midst of sorrow, grief, and the pain of a broken heart. You are actively yielding your flesh to walk out His purpose, to fulfill His plan. Jesus had to yield His human flesh to pay the price, to bring the gift of salvation. You are wrestling...not against God, but rather that wrestling of desiring to bring that sacrifice of praise in the midst of your sorrow and suffering and how to do that in a way that honors Him. My temptation is to retreat to my Father's arms in times of grief and not let humanity in to observe my pain and suffering. I know He will give me rest but then I thought about Jesus...His suffering was visible...he groaned, cried out, was tormented, and felt abandoned by God. And then the victory..."into your hands I commend my spirit...it is finished." 

We are able to walk through the whole process and celebrate the perfect plan of the Father revealed in the suffering of Jesus. We know the end of the story. It makes reading it easier....I know that you are fully human and God loves you with an everlasting love. He has placed [Verity] inside of you, to grow and be nurtured by you, protected by you, loved by you. He has made her visible to the world through your growing and changing body. He has also given you knowledge that her life is compromised and she might not live to birth. This is contrary to what we  expect when bringing life into the world...and Jesus' suffering and sacrifice is contrary to what most people expect when thinking of the Son of God. The question is why did God choose the sacrifice of His only son to bring salvation to the world? Wasn't there another way? Why is this God's plan for Verity? For you and Ted and your family? As your flesh groans, you ARE praising Him. Each word you share about your desire to bring honor to God is praising Him. As you share your sorrow and still walk through the process (yielding your flesh) to His purpose you are praising Him, as you love and desire this little girl, IT IS an act of praise in our fallen world. Sharing with your church family and allowing them to see the reality of the yielding of the flesh, in the midst of pain and sorrow, to the perfect will of God is a high calling...one for which you have been well prepared.