Olive’s Blog

Thank you to everyone who has been thinking of us, praying for us and checking in on us. Colby and I are doing very well, considering all we’ve been through only four moths ago. I feel like a tornado has passed. The first stage was getting the diagnosis: seeing the tornado and knowing that it was coming right toward us. That stage was filled with dread, panic and despair, as well as a level of faith and hope we’ve never known before. The second stage was enduring the chaos: going into labor. The tornado was here. There’s nothing we can do now, but experience it. Then we found ourselves in the eye of the tornado: everything stopped when we gazed upon our beautiful baby girl. Nothing mattered -nothing that we had been through or were about to go through in order to have this moment with her. And then the other side of the tornado hit us. Adrenaline levels have plummeted. We were left to pick up the peices and now find ourselves rebuilding our lives, knowing we’ll never be the same.

Time heals, so they say, however the grief comes like waves: crashing down, subsiding, crashing down again. Thank God our hope is elseware: a place we can envision slightly clearer than before Olive because we know she’s there.

Throughout all of this, I’ve felt like I’ve been walking around with a massive, gaping wound. Ironically, this has given me an immense sense of compassion and empathy for people I encounter, especially strangers bacause I’m aware that they have no idea what I’ve just been through and therefore I become accutely aware that I have no idea what they are going through, or have been through, or are even about to go through. When strangers are short with me I think, “If only you knew…” but then I’m forced to turn that around on myself.

As far as future children go… We are undergoing genetic counseling. Despite everything we were told about this being a random, fluke thing, we’ve gotten contrary opinions since getting Olive’s autopsy results and figure the more we know, the better. Colby and I recently had ultrasounds to verify that we each had two, functioning kidneys, which we do. This was a relief because, if one of us did have something wrong with one of our kidneys, it would mean a 50% chance of something like this happening again with each of our future children. That whole kidney ultrasound experience was pretty emotional since we found ourselves in the same exact room with the same exact unltrasound tech as when we had our “routine” 20-week ultrasound, where we first learned something wasn’t right. De ja vu, anyone?

We’re definitely wanting more babies. I’m daunted by the thought of another nine months of pregnancy, considering I’ve been emotionally ready to hold my baby since last November. We are currenly not “trying,” but are “alowing” for another baby. =) I am nervous when I envision our next “routine” ultrasound with our next pregnancy. I feel like my innocense has been stripped and I will never again enjoy the naivness that should accompany routine check-ups throughout a pregnancy. I’m reminded of Adam and Eve being suddenly ashamed at their nakedness, even though they’d been naked all along. Anyway, I’m confident that, because of our trust in Jesus and our relationship with Him, we will be just fine.

As for healing… Olive, as described by our pastor at her Celebration of Life, is our muse. She forced us to claw for truth more intently than ever before. I still believe in a God who heals, who wants to heal, who has already paid for our healing. While we’d be expected to drop this whole subject after Olive’s death, on the contrary, we’re stirred and can’t shake this desire to see more of this side of God. I recently heard a quote by Jack Hayford, “If we pray for someone and they’re not healed, the only thing it proves is that we haven’t yet arrived.”