The Invisible String

If you haven't heard of it, The Invisible String is a children's book I first became acquainted with while I was in the hospital with Hailey. A kind person brought it by as a resource to help my young son through the impending loss of his baby sister. The book itself doesn't focus on loss, but the love that connects us all, no matter what, near or far.

This book just reentered our lives once again, through the kindness of yet another, as a gift to our son upon his third birthday. I think in this instance, it will help our little boy feel connected to his father, even though Daddy is traveling to the other side of the world for a while.

The significance of this book and its emergence in our lives is not lost on me. In fact, I've thought about it quite a bit, especially as I've heard from so many of you over the past number of days as we've endured a health scare with baby #3 right before my husband departs. And while many of my posts speak of faith in the midst of this challenging road we are on, I want to write this post in part for the people who do not follow a faith, but DO follow their hearts.

At numerous points over the past number of months, I have been so touched by the many ways in which people have lifted us up. Not the least of these is when I hear from folks who don't profess to pray or put much stock in religion, but offer up their heartfelt hopes for my family, in whatever way they can. They are letting me know that invisible string of love reaches even further than I often know.

The absence of that string --- that sense of humanity and love that connects us all --- is perhaps one of the worst feelings I've ever felt, and one I came into contact with a few days ago. When the nurse practitioner at my OB's office told me she was referring us out to specialists due to two abnormalities on the baby's anatomy ultrasound, I begged her to find a way to schedule us before my husband's deployment. She said they'd see what they could do, but I will admit I didn't have great faith in her statement after the way the entire appointment had been handled. I checked back in later that day, and the next day. No news whatsoever, and our timeline was quite short. I asked if I could call the specialists myself to see about the appointment and they gave me the number. I didn't want my husband going to war, worrying we might lose another child. I was heartsick and desperate.

I called the specialists' office and spoke with the most heartless person I've encountered --- really the ONLY one --- since we lost Hailey. She told me she wouldn't speak to me, wouldn't give me an appointment, and that they would only deal with the referring doctor's office. I calmly replied that I understood that, and believed they should have already had my referral in their possession for a bit of time, but just wanted to call to explain our situation. I told her we had buried our daughter in January, that my husband was deploying in days, and that I didn't want to be trying to track him down with potentially bad news as he leapfrogs across the globe to his final destination. The woman curtly replied that she understood and told me the doctors would "get to it when they get to it", and hung up.

I felt so crushed, I cried. It wasn't that they couldn't fit us in --- that, I could understand and accept if I had to. It was that the woman didn't care, wouldn't take my name, wouldn't even LOOK. My suffering was simply a nuisance to her. I understand rules and regulations exist for a reason (I did marry into the military, after all), but it all just felt so cruel. Like every painful moment we had been through didn't matter at all. She at least could have been more gentle about shutting the door in my face, rather than slamming it. I felt disconnected from the world around me, in suffering, in lack of understanding, desperately reaching out for that invisible string. In that moment, dejected, I gave myself up to the world and whatever else it might subject us to.

It wasn't that I feared what may be wrong with the baby. Of course I felt worried, but that bit of stress I'd already agreed to give up to God and our Hailey-in-the-Stars. Baby #3 would either be okay, or she wouldn't, and we would face it either way, just as we did with Hailey. Any control I tried to exert was out of an aching concern for my husband's heart. It is already hard enough for him to leave us for this deployment (and for us to see him off) and if I could move mountains to spare him any suffering, I will always give it my best effort. And I did. Apparently to no avail.

But then, the following day, after I'd already given up, I received a phone call from the specialists. Apparently the doctors had finally gotten to our file, and were willing to give us the next available appointment, which was on Monday. Excitedly, I asked my husband to clear it with his command. Then I spent the weekend praying to God and Hailey-in-the-Stars, and trying to truly enjoy some of our last days together with my husband.

At our appointment on Monday, I found out from the woman conducting the ultrasound that we had been referred to them not just for the two abnormalities I'd been told about, but a third as well. My heart dipped. There was a kidney concern, a heart concern, and (news to me!) a concern with the nuchal fold measurement. The nuchal fold measurement can pertain to Downs Syndrome, but luckily, I already knew from the genetic testing we'd done earlier in the pregnancy that baby #3 does NOT have Downs.

I clutched the necklace around my neck --- one I wear in remembrance for Hailey --- and prayed through the whole ultrasound. The tech was very sweet and kindly obliged us and turned on the 3D function to show us our daughter's face. It is too early on to have the fatty baby cheeks, but I knew seeing her face would do our hearts well and help us to bond with our daughter throughout whatever storms we might be about to weather. Here is our little beauty!

And then the time came to meet with the doctor. I wondered what the odds were that both the heart AND kidney (it was just one that had been off) could be okay.

My husband and I received a blessing we often prayed for with Hailey, but so rarely ever received. GOOD news!! Whatever the odds were that everything could be okay, they were! I don't know if our issues from the first ultrasound were due to old equipment, a bad tech, the baby's poor position that day or likely some combination of all three, but who cares!! Our daughter --- picked out by both God and Hailey-in-the-Stars --- is okay! And please know, for all those parents out there who don't get the news they were hoping for, I understand. We've been there. So I don't offer our proclamation lightly or without sensitivity for the broken hearts of others. I just need to embrace our good days when we have them.

With love and a grateful heart: for this good news, that it could be shared in person with my husband, and for the invisible string that connects us all.