Looking Back - Part 1

In two weeks we will be celebrating two years with Eamon Joseph! For the sake of posterity and in thanksgiving, I plan to write a series of posts detailing the arrival of our Prince. I will break it down, both for ease of reading and for me, so that I can emotionally reabsorb the experiences.

Okay, brace yourselves for this picture...

Yes, "Lord have mercy" is an appropriate reaction. I am good-and- 9 months pregnant, actually this is about 5 in the morning and David and I are preparing to go have ourselves a baby...it is February 3, 2007 - Eamon's birth-day.

The frontal view is easier on the eyes. I find it amazing how calm we were, fear was not a part of that day, even though the delivery room would be filled with nay-sayers.

As I have mentioned in earlier posts, we were given a near-fatal diagnosis at our 20 week ultrasound.

I remember the late afternoon appointment, we were giddy - knowing already the baby was our second son, asking the technician all sorts of questions about his size and giving voice to dreams for our little man. The woman was awfully quiet, we barely noticed answers weren't forthcoming. As the exam was ending, she mentioned the Dr would be in to talk with us.

Confused, we sat waiting in the dimly lit room, unaware that our world was about to change - forever. The Dr., a specialist (perinatologist) available at the ultrasound location slipped in, quieting the firing of questions, and began her own exam. It seemed like an eternity until she finally spoke. Gravely, she reported that the baby had fluid in the right and left ventricles of his brain. Ultimately, this would lead to great obstacles in development. Obstacles that could not be overcome, a congenital brain abnormality.

An amniocentesis was suggested, for understanding and potential information that would guide my personal care related to delivery. We agreed, completely at peace with a procedure I never thought would be an option. Literally, lights turned on, a parade of people were in and out (Drs, techs, genetic counselor), my OB was being reached, and the amnio would be done immediately.

David and I had a few minutes alone. We were in shock, I can not recall all our words, but I clearly remember through tears our prayer that God would be near, giving us wisdom, peace and healing for our baby.

The needle was long, the Dr watched on the same ultrasound screen that reported our nightmare, as she pierced my skin and uterus. You could easily see the needle gathering DNA information. To our delight, you could also clearly see our boy reaching for the intruder in his space. Eamon was trying to grab the needle, actually boxing with it. Our very own "Fighting Irish", Eamon was a fighter. Alive and responding. A balm for our wounded hearts.

We left after further discussion of options - "How committed to this pregnancy are you?" A question that would be asked countless times in the next few weeks. There is no hope of correction. Your baby will most likely not make it to term, if the baby does he will not live for very long. There is no hope for this "fetus".

David's mom was home watching Maeve and Myles. God was gracious, Maeve was supposed to be at that ultrasound appointment to see our baby for the first time. I called my mom, numbly gave her the report, asked for prayer and to please call my family. I did not have the strength to retell the scenario.

We talked a bit. God was so involved from the start. In my heart I was at peace, knowing Eamon was perfect in God's eyes, and believing He could intervene on my baby's behalf.

At my sink, a couple of hours having passed, I looked on the windowsill spotting a little lamb Myles had made earlier in the day. My eyes stung with a flood of tears as I read God's voice to me , "Do not be afraid...your prayer has been heard" (Luke 1:13). I have never heard an audible voice, but that simply verse spoke, no screamed, to my spirit, rivaling any human voice.

That word was all it took to set our position - no fear, all trust, God had a plan.