Miracles

Today, we celebrated our twin girls' 14th birthdays. I spent some time this morning reflecting on the miracles that surrounded their emergency premature delivery and found myself in tearful awe of the many ways we saw God's hand in the experience. 

I'll spare you the details, and tell you that I received a very clear message of comfort the morning of their birth -- before we knew anything was going to happen that day (I was only 30 weeks along and was in the hospital for high-risk monitoring, but we thought we had at least a couple more weeks). It was a feeling of peace, accompanied with a gentle but very clear thought that said, "Everything is going to be okay." 

I found it a little out of the blue, but I appreciated the nice thought. No more than 20 minutes after feeling that, the scans showed that one or both of the girls was in danger. What was a peaceful morning turned into a flurry of doctors, nurses, and technicians zooming in and out of the room in preparation for the big event.

As I sat in the middle of the commotion, the feeling of peace and the clear + comforting thought returned. 

"Everything is going to be okay."

I was anchored in peace, and I was able to stay calm. 

So many scenes from that day live vividly in my mind. Chris walking in and the relief I felt to see him and hug him; talking with my doctor, being wheeled down the long hallway to the operating room and knowing the next time I was in that hallway my babies would be born...the kind but urgent way my doctor spoke to us before surgery; laying on the operating table, holding Chris's hand and watching the tears stream down his cheeks as each of our girls were born; hearing their tiny little cries for the first time, wondering if the sounds were actually babies; desperately wanting to see them and hold them but having to trust in the capable hands that whisked them away to the NICU. 

Through all of this, even though it was so hard, the thought held me tightly. "Everything is going to be okay."

That night was a long one due to medical issues of my own following the surgery. When I was finally stable enough, I was wheeled down to meet our girls in person. Their little bodies were shockingly tiny. I couldn't believe what I saw, and wondered how on earth they were going to make it. I knew there was a good chance they wouldn't.

From day to day for the next 5 weeks, we celebrated forward progress and cried through setbacks. Each gram of weight gained or lost felt like a huge deal. Gradually, they reached the point where they were finally developed enough to come home. 

 I will be eternally grateful for the miracles we experienced through the process of bringing these beautiful girls into the word. I recognize that many stories don't have this happy of an ending. I've experienced those kind, too.

But there are miracles in those stories, as well. Miracles of comfort through grief, of people knowing just what to do to help, of the ability to breathe through the brokenness, of learning how to function even with a hole in your heart.

God's hand is in our lives, bringing miracles that carry us through. I'm grateful for these sweet, hilarious, creative, bright, generous, talented 14-year old reminders of this powerful truth.