Abigail's Birth Story

Shall I share with you my daughter's birth story? I'm sitting here looking at her photo and it strikes me: just as we did not plan for her death, we also did not plan for her birth and this fourth child (third pregnancy) was also a sweet surprise. 

Just around the time COVID started causing such a ruckus we had twin boys age five and a younger daughter age three. Our home was lively and often chaotic. Even so, I was not convinced our family was complete. I had this persisting feeling someone was missing. My husband on the other hand was not convinced our family was NOT complete! Thus I remained on a hormonal contraceptive with  nearly 99% efficacy when used appropriately. I think you see where this is going! 

In January of 2020 I was hit with a severe case of mono. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I was well enough to function in normal daily life. Sometime in early March I also had a rather hilarious and embarrassing mishap with my contraceptive of choice, only I did not realize this until mid-March when I was hit by that same mono-like fatigue. I remember lying of the couch (obviously rare occurrence with three young children) when I jumped up realizing the said "mishap".  Adam then quickly jumped into the car and returned with enough pregnancy tests for the neighborhood. We only needed one. Less than two minutes later I came out the bathroom laughing. 

It definitely wasn't a mono relapse. The irony is not lost on us knowing we conceived on the heels of recovering from the "kissing disease" in an era where everyone was staying "six feet apart". My dear husband walked around in a state of shock for nearly three months. I, on the other hand, knew this "surprise" was the missing person in our family. The Lord knew our family needed Abigail. He so intentionally placed her in our life. 

The other three kids were so excited and made many very frank observations about mommy's growing belly for the remainder of the pregnancy. Adam soon came around to our sweet surprise, and because I had named our older daughter, he was the one to choose our second baby girl's name. 

Abigail: "my father's joy". It seems even more appropriate now looking back. She was indeed an unexpected and unplanned joy to her daddy. Yet, even deeper still, she was given life within our family to my Father's joy. And to the Father's joy (at the expense of her daddy's sorrow) she is now held by Him; and her joy is complete. 

Abigail knew nothing but love from her daddy; and she will never know anything but love from her Heavenly Father. 

I'm getting ahead of myself. 

On December 9, 2020 Abigail was to make her arrival. I will spare you many of the details, but her birth was the most traumatic of all my deliveries- and I've had twins! I am so thankful for the quick thinking of my amazing OB and nursing team. Abigail had shoulder dystocia, which means she was "stuck". Suddenly what seemed to be a swarm of nurses rushed in to assist, knocking my flabbergasted husband out of the way. Abigail was eventually delivered safely and well. I on the other hand began to hemorrhage. I am so thankful for the way God used my precious doctor. The day could have ended very differently, but it did not. Once more, I can see how God so intentionally placed Abigail in our arms that day. 

I never wanted to have to place her back in His so very soon. Yet again I have this feeling, confidence actually, that someone is missing, and it's her. Our family is missing it's Abigail.

I sit here marveling about God's intentionality and purpose for her precious life. I don't think I'll ever really grasp the full extent this side of Heaven. In a way, I'm glad. I'm glad because it tells me God's ways are higher than mine and her life has profound purpose beyond my imagination. It aches me beyond description to know her precious little body is resting in a three-foot wooden box. It relieves me to know the full scope of who she is cannot be contained as such and thus is living vibrantly with her Heavenly Father. It encourages me knowing her purpose cannot be restricted to a tiny plot in a secluded cemetery.