“Oh my God!” Mikayla shifted on the lounge trying to cope with the physical pain of the contraction. “This can’t be happening, not now.”
“Honey, what do you want me to do? Do you want to go back to the hospital?” Pete’s heart was in his throat as he faced the hopeless situation unfolding before him.
“No, they have already sent us home twice. Let’s just ring them. I don’t think I could handle the 45 minute drive in the Ute like this.”
Pete handed Mikayla the phone and paced as he prayed. His darling bride had been bleeding since week eight of the pregnancy, it was now week ten. The bleeding had gotten heavier throughout the day and the contractions had now developed from the backache that had come on earlier.
“Here Pete,” said Mikayla passing the phone back to him, tears streaming down each cheek.
“What is it Mik? What did he say?” Pete felt as though his heart were about to burst.
“There’s nothing we can do.”
Pete held his precious wife as he kneeled on the ground next to the lounge. Together they prayed for God’s mercy and intervention. They had already waited for a year to even fall pregnant. The joy that had been their’s for the past ten weeks was indescribable. They knew and loved this baby so deeply. They had chosen names, made plans, prayed constantly for this little one inside the womb. But the life within seemed to be fading as the contractions increased.
“OHHH!! Pete, help me” Mikayla’s desperate voice aroused undiscovered compassion in Pete’s being. His prayers became more intense.
“Honey, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wept.
Within the next twelve minutes it was all over. Mikayla had delivered a 10 week old foetus right there on the lounge. The truly shocking thing about the event was how perfect and whole their tiny baby appeared.
Pete held the pale, almost translucent body in the palm of his hand. “Look how perfect he is Mik. Ten fingers, ten toes, gorgeous face…oh God!” Together they sobbed as they marvelled at the tiny baby in his hand.
As the weeks that followed grew into months Pete and Mikayla cried a river of tears. Their longing to be parents fuelled their grief. Every evening at sunset they would sit on top of the backyard table and gaze upon the mountains, waiting on the Lord for strength and direction.
“You know Mik, the Lord spoke to me today. He asked me if he was enough for me.”
Mikayla knew where he was going with this and nodded, “He’s asked me the same question. We might never have the opportunity to be parents but we will always have him.”
“Yeah,” Pete paused and breathed in the fresh winter air. “I want so much to be a Dad. I know you will be the greatest Mum to ever live. But I also know I want Jesus, I want to love him more and really believe that he is enough.”
“So do I Pete. You know I was thinking today what a gift it was to actually see and hold our baby. From what I can gather most miscarriages don’t end like that at all. I think the Lord really blessed us in that moment.”
“Absolutely.” Pete put his arm around Mikayla and drew her close. “Father, you are more than enough for us. I thank you for the precious gift of our baby. I thank you for the ten weeks of joy we had getting to know him as he grew in Mik’s womb. I thank you we got to hold him and see him, made in your glorious image. Lord, thank you for grieving with us and now I ask Father, would you impart to us your strength? Would you give us a love for your son that would dwarf every other longing in our lives?”
“I agree Lord. And would you make real to us the Scripture from James 1:2, ‘Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” Lord, we want to lack nothing, how can we lack anything when we have you?”
The question hung as the sun sank below the tree line. And with it, hope and joy grew.
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