Shocking News from Subway

Wisdom Wednesday

If you have been following my Christian testimony series, this is the next installment. Enjoy!

A few months before Orville was born, Michael and I made the move from Memphis to a nearby rural area. Michael had been teaching elementary Spanish at a school that was around the corner from our dream house. The year previous to our move that program had been phased out, and he was transferred to an inner-city high school. It was rough. That stuff you see in movies about inner-city high schools is fairly true-to-life. At the end of that school year, right in the middle of my pregnancy with Orville, Michael decided that he had to make a change. We put the dream house up for sale, thinking it would take some time to find a buyer. It was sold within a month of our listing by owner. My parents lived in the county next door and offered to let us move in with them for a few months until Michael could get settled in a new job and we could find another place to live.

My great-grandparents lived next door to my parents. Grandma was 91, and Grandpa was 101. It was a joy to be near them, especially because it was their last few months with us. Two weeks after Orville was born, Grandpa died. Grandma passed shortly after Grandpa. Michael had settled in his new job, teaching Spanish at the high school in our new county of residence, and Dad, who had inherited my grandparents' home, offered to let us live there. I spent several weeks cleaning out the house, transitioning it from my grandparents' final earthly dwelling to the first real home that my sweet baby would know.

Grandma and Grandpa married in 1929. Starting their lives together at the onset of the Great Depression built such character in them. It also created in them a habit of storing for the future, maybe a little too well. I sorted through 70 years worth of payment stubs, receipts, toothpaste boxes, coffee canisters and aluminum foil scraps. The nice part was I found at least one hundred years worth of newspaper clippings and documentation of my family history. I also found my prize possession of a photograph of my great-great grandparents taken in front of their farmhouse in North Dakota shortly after they immigrated from Denmark in the late 19th Century. Priceless.

Soon history moved forward. Antique furniture made way for a crib. Grandma's pretty rose-colored walls were painted baby blue. Reader's Digests and magnifying glasses were replaced with board books and finger puppets. The sound of The Wheel of Fortune blaring from the t.v. at a volume the neighbors could hear was replaced with sounds of gurgles and coos. And crying… a lot of crying!

Orville was a colicky a little guy. He almost never stopped screaming! He screamed in the crib. He screamed in the carrier. He screamed in the bassinet. He even screamed when he was held. The only place he was content was in his baby swing. We tried everything. Here's where I could insert a huge list of things we tried, but I'll spare you. Just trust me on this, we did everything in the book. It was a trying time, and the fact that nothing that was supposed to work ever did made me feel like the worst mother in the world.

When Orville was five months old (and still colicky), I realized (in spite of my sleep-deprived delirium) that a visitor had not arrived. This visitor was supposed to show up at a particular time each month and had not shown herself in almost six weeks.

Oh no! No! NO! NOOOO!!!!

"This can't be," I thought. "How in the world can I handle a pregnancy, NOW?!!"

I recalled my pregnancy with Orville. I hadn't had first-trimester morning sickness. I had around-the-clock sickness the entire pregnancy. How could I manage that again, so soon? And with a little screamer, ur… baby, to care for?!?!

As I mentioned earlier, we lived in a RURAL area. Our house was about fifteen minutes from the nearest town. This "town" had one traffic light, two gas stations, a Fred's and a Subway. That was about it. I decided I had to know if a baby was on board, ASAP. I drove to Fred's, bought a pregnancy test and decided I couldn't take the time to drive back home. I went to Subway and took the test in the bathroom there, with a crying Orville in my arms, mind you. I had to wait a few minutes for the results so I bought a sandwich, sat down to eat and gave Orville a bottle. After a few bites, I looked in my purse (where I had stored the test) and saw two pink lines.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I decided to go to the high school and tell Michael. I couldn't hold onto this news all day. I drove to the school, shaking and crying and found Michael on his lunch break. He knew something was up the minute he saw me. I think he feared I had finally endured all the screaming I could handle and had flipped out. I nearly hyperventilated while telling him the news.

"Oh, is that all?" he asked.

IS THAT ALL?!?!? Are you kidding me?

"Michael," I said. "Do you remember how sick I was during my Orville pregnancy? Do you realize that Orville will only be a year old when this baby arrives? Do you understand that this one could be a screamer, too? We may never sleep again!"

"Dawn," he replied. "It will be alright. God made this baby."

During the drive home, I thought about that. God had indeed made this baby. We live in an era in which we have been taught that we are in control of such things. That we decide when a child will be formed. That we decide if and when our children will have life. We had "tried" for four years and had no baby to show for it. Then we "decided" to give up, and God gave us Orville. Now, we had tried to prevent pregnancy, but Wilber was in my womb anyway.

I could not help but reflect on Psalm 139: 13-14 as I drove. "For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well." This child was woven within me by God. He was fearfully and wonderfully made. Why was I so upset? How could I have lived through miscarriages and said "blessed be the name of the Lord"? But now I had what I had always wanted and was anxious! I would NEVER consider having an abortion, but my attitude toward this precious human being was not very different from the mother who considers it her right to choose when pregnancy is or is not convenient for her. Convenient or not, this child was God's beautiful workmanship and I prayed for the grace to savor every wonderful moment with him.

Just so you'll know, my pregnancy with Wilber was not too hard. God's grace was once again sufficient. Wilber was not a screamer, a snorer, but not a screamer. I did get a lot of weird looks carrying around a one-year-old and a new-born. In our day of Planned Parenthood, I did not make the grade. I often was asked if Wilber was a "mistake" or an "accident".

"No," I always answered emphatically. "He is neither a mistake nor an accident. He is, however, my precious little surprise fashioned by the hand of God." What a nice surprise he turned out to be!

One in Her Arms

Wisdom Wednesday

In my first Wisdom Wednesday post, "Why Homeschool Dawn?", I shared my Christian testimony. A few weeks later I wrote "Harvest Time" in which I revealed the greatest lesson I learned as an inner-city teacher. The next month I continued the chronology of my life's lessons in "The Strong Tower." In it I wrote about how God's sovereignty became my resting place as I faced the challenges of infertility and miscarriages. After reading these posts, a few of my bloggy friends sent me e-mails asking for the rest of the story. I will probably dedicate a few more posts to this series of testimonies, but for now, here is the next installment.

After the doctor had the dreaded talk with us, Michael and I decided we were not ready to begin fertility testing. We had been told that things did not look good for us and that we should be prepared for the worst. We knew that would require extra measures of grace. The school year had just begun, so we committed to spend the year praying for that grace and focusing on the work to be done at our schools.

I taught third grade at DES, Dilapidated Elementary School. No, that is not its real name but the pseudonym I have given it in order to protect the innocent. DES was in one of Memphis's poorest neighborhoods, not far from the Mighty Mississippi. It was a "best practices" school. That probably is not what immediately comes to mind when you think "inner city" and may come across as a bit pretentious. It's really just a term used in education circles to indicate a dedication to looking beyond oneself. We sought out what was working at other successful schools, not just in our district but nationally.

Before Christmas break our school decided to adopt a program widely used in the New York Public Schools, specifically at primary schools in Manhattan. A team of five teachers was chosen to go to NYC and observe schools using the program. I was selected as a member of the team.

We arrived in Manhattan in late January and spent a week and a half observing and taking notes. About mid-way through our stay, I experienced dizzy spells. My colleagues said it was probably from riding the subway and elevators. That might seem silly, but I do get motion sickness and am afraid of heights. However, I thought I was getting an ear infection.

Once back home, I went to the doctor expecting to be given a prescription for antibiotics but received prenatal vitamins instead.

What a great day it was when I held BT in my arms. He was born without any problems, full of life. Everyone had a different response. There was laughter. There were tears. Michael jumped around the delivery room, smiling from ear to ear.

All I could do was hold BT and feel the comforting presence of the Lord. It had been an arduous journey, filled with heartache. But, He had been with me every step of the way. His will had been accomplished in losing and in receiving. And I was fully aware that the gift of this little baby was His alone to give. Just as Hannah rejoiced in God's Sovereignty after the birth of Samuel, my heart sang, "There is no one holy like the Lord. There is no God but you. There is no Rock like our God." 1 Sam 2:2

People often ask me what happened. Did the doctors know what had caused the previous miscarriages? Had we opted for a particular therapy? At that time, however, there was no medical explanation, only the knowledge that as our Sovereign God willed, "the woman who was unable to have children, now had seven." 1 Sam 2:5

Well, at least three… two, possibly more, in heaven and one in her arms.

The Strong Tower

Wisdom Wednesday

As with most Americans, September 11, 2001, started as usual for me. The boys were babies, so my mornings began early with diaper changes and feedings. By about 7:30 (CDT), they were settled, playing with toys. Then, I would grab my breakfast and turn on the television to get the weather report and news. I flipped on the Today Show and saw the towers.

By this time, both planes had crashed, and smoke billowed from the gaping holes in the buildings. At first, I wondered what movie was being promoted and thought that the special effects were over the top. I turned up the volume to hear Katie Couric and Matt Lauer explain that this was indeed real. Two hijacked planes had been flown into the World Trade Center.

Over the next few moments, a flurry of emotions swept over me.

First, I felt fear.

Who had done this? Why? What would happen next?

Then, I felt sadness.

My thoughts turned to a school in Tribeca, not far from the towers, where, two years previously, I had observed teachers. Most of the parents of children at that school worked in the Financial District. Were those children watching their parents die?

Next I felt helpless. I yelled at the television, "Those towers are going to fall. Get those people out of there, NOW!!!" I wanted to fly through the TV screen and rescue those who were trapped but could only watch.

Then, the worst happened. The South tower fell. The North followed. Smoke and debris flowed through the streets of lower Manhattan like a tidal wave as New Yorkers ran for their lives. The world stood still. I was paralyzed as this horror unfolded before my eyes. I felt sick and numb with grief. I knew that the United States of America would never be the same.

A few years earlier, two different towers fell.

Near the end of my first year teaching, I learned I was pregnant! Finally!!! We had been praying for a child for two years. After facing month after month of disappointment, we had finally conceived. How great our joy! I finished out the school year and resigned. There was no returning to work for me; I would finally be at home with my little baby.

We bought our first house. It was a beautiful, older home in a neighborhood listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It had been lovingly cared for and retained its original Victorian charm. There was a wrap-around porch and a gorgeous foyer which led into a cozy library. The library had a fireplace, original light fixtures, and built-in bookshelves and window bench; it was a dream. It was going to be the most beautiful nursery that would later be the most beautiful homeschool classroom ever!

Soon after we moved in, I started experiencing pain in my lower abdomen. I kept calling my doctor and was told it was normal and to take it easy for a few days. Then the spotting started. Once again, I was assured this was common and was told to prop up my feet for a while. After a few days of this, I insisted on being examined and was checked into the hospital. As I lay in the hospital bed, feeling pains that I knew were abnormal, I was still being told that everything was okay. I didn't believe it and was consumed with fear.

About an hour later, I miscarried. I was 12 weeks into the pregnancy, but that was far enough along for me to see a child, my child. He had little arms and legs and blue dots where eyes were forming. He was fully human but seen as no more than a fetus by the hospital staff. Instead of him being carried home to our sweet nursery, he was placed in a Petri dish and carried off to a lab. I had never experienced such sadness.

My doctor encouraged us to try again, and we faced eight disappointing months before conceiving for the second time. This baby, however, only lived to 8 weeks gestation.

Over the next year, there were four more times that a pregnancy test gave a positive result. However, before I could get to the doctor for an exam, I was no longer pregnant. The doctor could not determine if I had miscarried or if those tests had been false positives. I was beginning to feel helpless.

My OBGYN suggested it was time to begin testing. She sat with me in her office and explained the possibilities; she wanted me to be fully informed before I began the process. It was her best guess that things didn't look good for me. She wanted me to be prepared to find out that Michael and I would never be able to have biological children.

That's when they fell… those two towers I mentioned earlier. They were the towers of my hopes and my dreams. Disappointment flooded me like a tidal wave. My world stood still, and I was paralyzed by the thoughts that I would not have what I had wanted for so long. I felt sick and numb with grief and worried that I would never be the same again.

But as I looked through the dust and debris of my fallen towers, I saw that "The name of the LORD is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe." Prov 18: 10 This does not mean that I will never experience injury, insult, or heartache, but I am forever safe. Jesus is my strong tower, and His Kingdom will endure forever.

Furthermore, Jeremiah 29:11 says, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." I had to come to terms with the fact that the hope and future that Jeremiah wrote about is not wish fulfillment. My hope and my future is Jesus. And I am to pray, "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

The true prosperity of which Jeremiah wrote is that "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Rom 8:38-39 Our Sovereign Lord reigns, and by His grace alone I am forever His. Nothing can destroy that.

So whether we face national disaster or personal pain, may we run to Christ alone. May our faith not waiver in the face of trials. But may we instead, by God's grace, persevere and proclaim , "The LORD giveth, and the LORD taketh away; blessed be the name of the LORD." Job 1:21

Day of Remembrance

In Memory of My Babies
My First Little One: Miscarried at 12 weeks, June 1997
My Second Little One: Miscarried at 8 weeks, February 1998
Though I never had the chance to hold these babies,
I rejoice that they are securely in the Lord's arms.
I look forward to the day I will meet them.