Nearing that day...

Forgive me, for this is a rambling kind of post... and it is evolving of its own accord, not on some well -thought out plan.

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I told my father in an e-mail that I was expecting his first grandson (though at the time we'd not had confirmation of gender, just a mama;s hunch). That was April 1, 2008 - - April Fool's Day.

Just a week later I received a phone message from Dr. H (who never calls a patient unless their is an issue). No details, no clarity, just a Friday phone message before two days of pregnant-and-emotionally-fickle worry about why I needed the personal attention.

At that point in my pregnancy, Ya was already fluttering around and I could feel his acrobatic performances. They gave me secret comfort - - assurance of his impending birth. Aside from my immediate family, I'd told only one co-worker and though I was showing, tactful folk who knew me refrained from guessing in my presence. I'd share when the time was right for me.

What followed those 48 plus hours of restless worry was a drawn out episode of educate-deny-accept-pray-hope-resolve in a cyclical, sickening cycle. Dr. H said a screen showed Trisomy 18, bad chromosomes. Fatal. Painful, but mercifully brief life. Incurable. Statistically uncommon. Best to terminate ("You do not want a baby with Trisomy 18" and euphemistically the phrase of choice on support sites called his commentary "saying goodbye early.")

I sought comfort in my odds. I held firm to my mom's steady hand through an amniocentesis. I cried, hiding tears in public and letting go alone. My sweet Chi comforted, my Chi ceaselessly prayed. My cousins spread word, called in shifts, and no doubt did a fair share of praying, too. My colleague (more appropriately called friend - a term I rarely use) prayed, comforted, and calmed me between classes when I dwelled on the negative.

Around that same time, as I obsessed over celebrity-babies.com articles, I found a community of support in blogs. You see, that was the day "Bring the Rain" was mentioned - - the day little Audrey Caroline went home to God because she was too precious to stay on Earth. I read the eloquent, extremely personal, heartfelt, God-driven words of Angie Smith and found peace.

The outcome of my amnio confirmed what Ya's daddy had said all along, "I talked to God, he's fine." And ultimately, our little king was born.

And here I am a year later - still devouring blogs, though the celebs are a last resort and the "regular folk" have become my stars of choice. There's power in sharing pieces of one's life. There's understanding in these stories that stretches across cultures, communities, colors and economics (I tried to find a suitable "c" word, but it isn't working). I relish in shedding anonymity for the sake of sharing a good photo story, an anecdote - happy or sad, or even a blurb of reply from someone who's been there, felt that, or is praying for/about it.

Online, these parents can dish about health, wealth, and all that stuff we deal with in this life on earth. Many preach without being preachy, drawing spirituality from their respective faiths and proclaiming it in their reflections.

And as the day my simple outlook on parenting and pregnancy evolved into it's current uncertain and often cloudy state draws ever nearer, I put my faith in Him who has the plan.

Today I pray for you who read this, for those whose stories I read, and for these sweet little ones who need God's tender touch more than me right now:

Samuel J and Stellan M.