As you may or may not know, Ruth and I are pregnant with our 3rd child. She is 20 weeks along, and yesterday we went for the ultrasound to find out if we are having a boy or girl. Our day started like any other grumpy day when you get up too early, but after spending hours in waiting rooms and meeting with ultrasound technicians, midwives, and a specialist, we were devastated with the news that our baby girl has a rare disease known as holoprosencephaly.
You can look it up online to get the full spectrum of what we are dealing with, but the term that was used to describe her condition is “not compatible with life.” Basically, her brain is fused into one small mass, instead of separating into two growing hemispheres. Her face has also failed to develop the necessary structures needed for survival. Though she is growing and kicking, and even moved her fingers during the ultrasound, the doctors say that she will not, in all probability survive very long after delivery. They have encouraged us to go ahead and induce labor now, as that would ease the prolonged pain of delaying the inevitable.
We have chosen to carry her to term, though. We feel as though we know what would happen if we were to deliver her now. In her current state, she could not survive outside of the womb. Though there is a strong possibility that she will not survive even if she makes it the full 9 months, we are going to push through and pray for a miracle. The same God that raises the dead to life, and makes people out of dirt is perfectly capable of mending a broken brain, and bringing form to an unformed face.
We know that we are in for a long race: one that we are ill prepared for. Baby girl’s body will continue to grow, as will Ruth’s. She will continue to kick and move about. There will be signs of life that will occur, all the while we will be preparing to deliver her and say goodbye to her at the same time. The reality of this is going to be tough for Ruth as it continues to unfold. The last 24 hours have already shown us moments that we feel fine, and moments that seem as though the world has stopped turning. We don’t feel as though we have a choice in the matter, though.
There is so much more to say right now, but I know this email can’t go on forever, so here is my plea: Join us in praying. Not just today, but for the long haul. Her due date is August 12. Please pray for Ruth and all that she is going through. This has already been the hardest thing we have ever endured, and we are just 1 day in. Pray that Brennan and Abbey will somehow grasp some of what’s going on, and God’s goodness through everything. Its tough to shut the bedroom door, cry for a few minutes, and then engage 2 happy kids who just want to show you their latest LEGO creation, and beg for a snack. They don’t understand the weight of this, nor should they. Please pray that I will know how to shepherd my family. Everyday logistics, such as looking for work and fixing the car feel inconsequential, though I know the opposite is true. Please pray for our baby girl, that the Lord will see fit to heal her broken body. Pray that she will continue to survive and grow. I know that God will be glorified in this either way, and that he will sustain us long enough for us to glorify him through living until he sees fit for us to glorify him in dying. We are praying for a miraculous healing, though we are bracing for the reality that he may not see fit to do so.
Thanks for taking the time to read this and please join us in praying.
Eric and Ruth Brown