Decisions...

One can only imagine that in a place like this (having a child that has a terminal diagnosis in utero) there are many decisions to be made. My first decision was to not accept the "terminal" part until God actually had Phoenix in His hands. For now, he was in our hands and I was determined to be his mommy as long as I could. No, abortion was not an option.
However, I have to say something controversial right now. I cannot blame any mother who has been in my shoes and decided to end her pregnancy. You see, I don't believe that their love for their child would have been any weaker than mine for Phoenix, but perhaps they did not know...did not know so many things. First, that it won't "take away" or "fix" the pain. Perhaps they did not know a Heavenly Father that could carry them through each day as I did. Perhaps everyone surrounding them told them it was the only way. I do not know, but I can only think that they did what they thought they had to do and I pray that one day they will have healing from the scar it might have left.
That being said, it wasn't an option for us. As I said before, I think too much. I knew that even though it would temporarily end a little uncertainty in my life, I couldn't possibly not give my little boy every fighting chance. I wanted to also give God the opportunity to heal him. If not a healing, I at least wanted God to have the opportunity to do what He was wanting to accomplish through this life that He had so graciously entrusted to our care.
The next decision I made was to have an ultra-sound done everytime I went to the Dr. Our Dr. was very gracious and gladly allowed this to me. Those days were some of the most magical of my life. They were the only chance I had to know my little boy alive. He would squirm and move and I would smile and cry.
Naturally, I guess you would think my next decision was concerning delivery, but it wasn't. Not yet. Delivery seemed like it might be the end, so I just couldn't think about that yet. However, my next decision proved to be critical. It has to do with a little booklet I had read a couple of years ago. Years, when I was entrenched in toddler hood and potty training and strong willed children. When I thought my life was so incredibly difficult and frustrating and draining. Oh, what I would pay to have those problems back. In those years, I stumbled onto a book called "The attitude of gratitude" by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. It is small and simple and to the point. I actually believe it is a literary version of many of the speeches my father gave me as a teenager. He would be glad to know that the words he spoke so many times had actually planted a seed in my heart and when I needed them, they were watered by this book. All of a sudden, what he had planted, sprung into action. This book, very matter of factly, lists what grateful people do for those around them and what ungrateful people do. I determined to become grateful. Even if it was only for little things.
So, now, at this moment in my life, when I faced the darkest path I had ever looked upon, I remembered that book. I chose to begin finding everything in the situation that I could possibly be thankful for. There were more than you would think.