Compassion ...

... it's something that many of us think we have, but we don't realize how far off we are until we have walked in another's shoes. Even then, are we walking in someone's Pradas and complain that they don't match our outfit, or are we walking in their worn and torn work shoes ... the ones that carried them through the mud of life's battles?

I remember when my brother and his wife lost their first baby ... yes, I said "first." This was the first grandchild on both sides, the promise of new hope and the expectation of dreams fulfilled. When his wife told me the story of how she lost her baby at only 5 months along, I had tears in my eyes and a broken heart. It was a little baby boy. I was so sad for them and I imagined how it must have felt and believed with all my heart that I had true compassion. Then came the 2nd, 3rd and 4th miscarriage, and I was devastated right along with them. I remember when she was pregnant with my nephew Riley. Daniel and I sent them a card and bought a little gift and were so excited for them. She told me how we were the only ones who treated her normal and had any hope. Everyone else was afraid to comment or get attached at this point. I was either ignorant, or somehow walking in the Spirit with some kind of knowledge that it would all turn out okay this time.

I had no idea, then, that even if she lost that baby, it would still be "okay" and God was still on the throne and still loved her and my brother no more or less than He did the day He created them. Riley will celebrate his 10th birthday in a couple of weeks. His little brother, Silas, isn't much further behind. I am still clueless as to how good God really is.

When I became pregnant, as many of you, my dear readers, know, I went through absolute hell and back trying to keep Sonora alive. I think about even writing that sentence and how absurd it is, since God is the giver and taker of life, and I actually thought I had anything to do with it. Yes, I could do all the right things and eat healthy and stay off my feet when ordered to do so, but really, God has her days numbered and He already knows when the last one is regardless of how long I breastfeed, or how I will force her to hold my hand when we cross a street.

When I went through my first bout with bleeding at about 12 weeks, I remember Daniel saying, "Honey, I used to feel bad for people who had miscarriages, but now I am devastated for them!" We thought back to all the people we prayed for who lost children born or unborn and we wept and prayed again for them and their broken hearts. We finally got a splash of mud on our shoes.

When I had bleeding the second time and landed in the hospital, my sister came all the way from Fontucky (aka:Fontana) and when she walked in, it was the most unusual comfort, knowing she had lay there also in a hospital bed clinching to bible verses, prayers from stangers and the tiniest bit of hope that she wouldn't be the next person in the family to lose a baby. Her struggle was a lengthy one and she was attached to monitors and machines and IV drips and all kinds of medical gadgetry in hopes to "keep her baby alive." Again, the grace of God brought my nephew, Kelton into the world and he just celebrated his 8th birthday. His younger sister, Claire (who also kept my sister and the rest of us on our knees praying as she threatened an early arrival at 18 weeks) is a little pistol with enough energry to rule the planet. Grace of God through the mud of life.

My sister had compassion on me. My brother had compassion on me. They both suffered in ways that I didn't understand. Until the birth of Sonora, I suffered in ways they didn't understand either. Daniel and I watched my sister and brother, and his sister and brother all get pregnant and have their children in ONE YEAR. We kept wondering why God didn't see fit to bless us that way. Why were some of them on their second babies when we couldn't even manage one? Then finally, after wearing and tearing of the proverbial shoes, many years and many tears later, along comes Sonora. Not without drama of our own, but she is here (snoring next to Daniel as I type.)

During my pregnancy, another friend was also struggling with a premature birth ... Brennen and Sue had Haiden at 23 weeks. Talk about miracles. I remember rubbing my belly over and over thinking to myself that they were going through what I was trying so diligently to avoid. As I prayed for Sonora on the inside, I would pray for Haiden who was already outside. I would track his progress with baited breath hoping to never see the dreaded e-mail saying he didn't make it through the night. We just had dinner with them a couple nights ago, and I am happy to report that Haiden is a spunky little guy who just celebrated his 1st birthday.

So many times I thought I would lose Sonora. So many doctor visits, hospital stays, medications, biopsies, lab reports, insulin injections, wheelchair rides ... I can't even believe what we went through. For awhile, I even wondered if it was a bad dream with an amazing awakwening ... until the other day.

I got an e-mail from my friend Christy the other day who said that someone we know is in the hospital at 23 weeks with bleeding and is struggling to keep her baby. All of a sudden a flood of emotions came back and the racing heart, the fears and the sadness of anticipating the worst all hit me at once. I didn't have those feelings when my brother lost his children. I had no idea. This time. I come a little bit closer ... I was there, in my own battle shoes, standing knee-deep in the mud trying desperately to free myself from the fetters of doubt and fear. Somehow, I managed to do it before Sonora was born. I managed to allow God to reveal Himself to me and take me to a place of peace in knowing it would be "okay" if He decided to take her home. Every day, I kept telling myself that her life was a miracle, even if she didn't make it out alive. I kept reminding myself that God knew, He understood, none of it was a surprise and that someday ... Heaven.

It is 7:12 am ... I have been awake since 4 wondering how Becky is doing ... how her little baby, Grayson, is doing and if he made it through one more night. How are her and her husband and family doing? PLEASE pray for them ... all of them, and all the doctors, nurses, friends and family who are watching and waiting to see how it will all pan out. God will be glorified, no doubt ... but is it wrong to hope so hard that she will have the same outcome that I did?

I think to myself ... is this what compassion feels like? Does it keep you up at night praying for someone you barely even know, hoping that God will reach down and touch her the way He did me?

I stole this picture of Grayson off of Becky's myspace. He is 11 weeks old here. To those who have not ever had an unltrasound, this picture is a gray mass with something that looks like a skull and possibly a body attached. To those of us who have had ultrasounds, it represents the first tangible peek into parenthood. I relied heavily on my ultrasounds to monitor Sonora's progress. I would stare at them diligently and be so sad when I had to get off the table. I didn't want the image and sound of the beating heart to ever go away. I would watch the videos over and over to help me fall asleep at night until the next ultrasound appointment. I remember the first time I held my ear to her chest when she was out and heard her little heartbeat. I cried partly in awe and partly in disbelief. When you look at this little baby in the picture above, do you realize that the love of a parent doesn't start when the baby comes out, but long beforehand? Do you see a miracle? I do. I see a baby that God used to get people to turn to Him, and a baby who got people to pray. As I finish up this blog, I know that Becky went into labor this morning and I don't know how it turned out. I am afraid to call and find out.

Compassion?

I think I probably still don't get it ... I think it's only a splash of mud.