We have a daughter.
And we almost lost her.
In the last five days, I have been brought to my knees and humbled by the power of miracles. Because the thing is, she is still here, and that is indeed a miracle. Still, I pray for another one, and so here I am, typing at my computer, praying for one more.
Late afternoon on Sunday, it became abundantly clear in a span of five seconds that something was wrong. That pressure I was feeling was my baby's sac, coming out. The terror I felt is indescribable, but I followed my instincts.
An ambulance ride later, Trevor and I were given devastating news. I was almost all the way dilated. There was very little cervix left. I was 22 1/2 weeks pregnant. Baby would probably not make it. But the doctor would try. We were given a 25% chance of success at the placement of an emergency cerclage. We took it.
I was put asleep and the surgery was performed. When I awoke, we were delivered our first miracle. The surgery went remarkably well. The doctor was able to do the procedure with great success. Our chances of eventually delivering a healthy baby went to 80%.
It's a bit hard to fall to your knees when laying in a hospital bed in a recovery room, but in my mind and in my heart, I did. We were given a miracle. And I haven't stopped praying since.
The following morning, we had an ultrasound. Three - who was once announced as a he, is now most definitely a she.
We have a daughter. A daughter who is fighting to be here.
And I want to know her, with every fiber of my being.
So we wait. We wait for her to stay put, to grow, to arrive safely and healthily preferably in a few months time. But I understand that as I lay here on bed rest doing my part, the rest is in God's hands.
And so I pray for another miracle. The miracle to one day look my daughter in the eyes and say, "You have a way of making a point, my love."