"My frame was not hidden from you when I Was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth" 139:15
“Your baby has a prominent pulmonary artery”
Based on my recent binge watching of Grey’s Anatomy, I knew the pulmonary artery was an important part of a person’s physical makeup and well-being, so when the doctor said “prominent” in such a way that did not make it sound “Wonderful” and “Above & beyond great” but rather “scary” and “threatening” I felt something break inside.
This tiny baby girl growing inside of me has a prominent pulmonary artery and there is nothing I can really do about it. The doctor told me not to worry, not to search the web, but rather to go to a fetal cardiologist for a better look. He tried to reassure me that if something was terribly wrong, he would be able to tell me and so the referral was just a precaution.
This did not make me feel much better.
We had to wait a week to see this doctor to know if or how this might affect baby girl.
Waiting has never been my gift. Patience has always been the fruit of the spirit I struggled to master. But it is amazing how in my impatience, God met me right at the pinnacle of my untrusting and anxiety.
Sharing this news with family, our small group, our friends and co-workers, God showed up in these conversations so beautifully. Friends shared with me their own birth stories of God’s miraculous hand working over far more complicated medical marvels than our baby girl’s. Family members sent prayers and asking their church to pray for baby girl’s healing. Our small group prayed over baby girl the night before our appointment, and spoke words of peace and encouragement to my terrified soul. Text messages sent right as we were walking into the doctor’s office offering prayers and comfort that provided an ounce more courage and trust with each step we took.
By the time we walked into the fetal cardiologist, my husband and I looked at each other and knew:
We loved our baby girl whether prominent pulmonary artery or not.
God isn’t finished forming her into the wonderfully made being that she is and will be.
God has gone before us and will continue to walk with us every step.
We met the fetal cardiologist, who is by far the most empathetic physician we have met to date, and she instantly became my new best friend. Side note: any doctor who calls a pregnant lady “slim” when she already feels like she should wear a sign reading “Heavy Load” on her back is a winner in my book.
Dr. NewBestFriend’s prognosis:
90-95% chance baby girl will be absolutely just fine.
In the 5-10% chance baby girl’s heart is affected by the prominent pulmonary artery, she would require a 10-15 minute procedure when she is born and then she would be all better.
This is probably the best news that we could possibly hear, besides the news that it’s miraculously gone (Which we still pray for.)
Our hearts are overjoyed with the news, but there is still that nagging 5-10% chance that baby girl will need a procedure, and in that procedure what if the worst possible scenario of .001% happens. My mind began to wander into the territory of what -if’s and it’s no wonder many become lost in the land of fear.
Fear is gripping and oh-so-real, especially when you love something so much that you can’t imagine losing it.
I haven’t met baby girl yet, but I know that she loves ice cream and milk more than anything. I know that she kicks for mommy, but is shy with daddy. I know that she loves to rest her hands up near her ears, and that her hands move about as fast as her daddy’s. And each day I can’t wait to meet her face to face and fall even more in love with the incredible creation that God has perfectly and wonderfully formed.
But as much as I long for that day, anything that stands between me and baby girl immediately elicits that gnawing, annoying, weirdly attractive thing called fear.
Fear somehow gives me a sense of control.
If I worry about it enough, maybe my anxious thoughts can somehow close the slightly prominent gap in her artery.
If I research the whole internet, maybe one little nugget of information will heal her slightly too big heart.
But that is not the case.
My worry cannot add a single day to her life or to mine.
My fear cannot heal a broken heart.
I am not in control here.
And thank God,
For He is in control.
For he created baby girl’s inmost being, her personality, her soul, her precious heart.
He knit baby girl together in my womb precisely and exactly the way he wants her.
He fully sees her frame and the way her heart circulates blood perfectly even with her prominence.
He knows the exact amount of days ordained for her and they are written in his book, before even one comes to be.
He thinks of baby girl so often, his thoughts outnumber the grains of sand.
When I am reminded of this passage from Psalm 139, I rest assured that my God knows exactly the future for our baby girl. It’s a 100% guarantee that His plan and His will for her life is far better than anything I could ever ask or imagine.
I’ll take that percentage every day.