Declaring God's Faithfulness- July 2018

Amanda then....and now!

My life is in a state of transition; new job, new living arrangements, new responsibilities. I’m excited and many of the first steps have already been taken. The job has begun and despite some early mistakes (to which I must tell my perfectionistic and prideful side to chill out) and the continually new aspects of my job that I’m introduced to (which I am learning to take in stride…breathe, Amanda) things are going well.

During this particular phase in life I’ve been feeling rather upended. The jobs that I’ve held for over half a decade have either come to an end or have been overhauled. I’m prepping for a move. The familiar is being restructured and while it is good, it drags me out of my comfort zone. In the midst of all the change (and my subsequent struggle with anxiety on numerous fronts) it has been especially important to remain grounded by focusing on God’s unchanging character. I have reflected back over my life and today I would like to share one segment with you that has reminded me time and again of God’s faithfulness, provision, grace, and mercy.

I was not yet born and already life seemed uncertain for me. My mom was six months pregnant with me and things were not going well. Though her amniotic fluid had been dangerously low for a few weeks her doctor wanted her to continue with me for as long as possible to give me the opportunity to develop. When my mom began to suffer severe bleeding it was clear that this opportunity had passed. I was born three months early weighing just a few ounces over 2lbs.

I was severely underdeveloped with the most pressing issue at the instant of my birth being my lungs. They lacked a critical substance required for breathing called surfactant which is necessary for regulating the surface tension of the alveoli within the lungs. The lack of this substance causes the alveoli to collapse when the individual (aka, me) exhales. My parents (ugh, my poor parents…I would not have wanted to be in their shoes) were informed of this likely outcome just before my delivery and were then offered some hopeful news. There was an experimental form of surfactant still in its trial phases that the hospital of my birth was utilizing in cases just like the one I was almost certain to experience. With their consent this surfactant could be administered to me at the moment of my birth to try and supply my need.

Now, this trial medication and the timing of my birth itself both are indications of God being at work, but a quick caveat from the current story will show God’s hand at work even before my birth. Perhaps a year or so before I was born my parents had been preparing to move. Long story short they ended up canceling the move because of one roadblock after another (my coming was not even a factor yet). Had they moved, however, it would have seriously affected whether or not I would have received the extent of care I needed. With surfactant only being in its trial phase it was limitedly available throughout the country and though it would have been offered at the hospital near where my parents would have been moving it was not certain that I would receive it. The hospital where I was born was offering it to each infant suffering from respiratory distress syndrome (RDS) whereas the hospital that I would have been taken to had my parents moved was running an actual trial to ascertain the medications’ effectiveness. I may or may not have received it.

So, I am born, the surfactant is administered and I am whisked away to NICU where I spend the next few months. It was a long road. Hours? after my birth my right lung collapsed (perhaps the method of dispersion for the surfactant was not adequate?) and was then re-inflated (that sounds so run of the mill/no worries in writing). I spent weeks, months? hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires, lying in a temperature controlled bassinet. My

contact was extremely limited with no more than three people being allowed in my room at a time and my parents were not allowed to hold me until Father’s day (I was born in May). Technically there were too many family members in the room at the time and the nurses stood guard at the door to ward off any approaching doctors.

I grew. No, really, I grew more than was expected for a preemie. By the time I was released from the hospital in August (irony, right? I was supposed to be born in August.) I was still underweight for my age but doing well. My parents were warned though of things they should potentially expect/prepare for. They were warned that my right foot which had been misshapen at birth might prevent me from walking well, that I could suffer severe respiratory difficulties for the rest of my life, that I might be developmentally delayed, and probably a slew of other things. “Yes, congratulations mom and dad, your daughter has made it this far. Not to ramp up your stress or anything, but statistically these are the things you’ll need to be aware of/on the lookout for. Take care!”

Let’s fast-forward life a bit. I never suffered a brain bleed which has a higher risk of occurrence in preemies, my foot is fine, I excelled in school, and though I did end up in and out of the hospital during my early years for upper respiratory emergencies, and my immune system took its’ sweet time to reach a level of normalcy, the only long-lasting problem has been asthma. Fast forward a few more years and here we are today.

One of my favorite things about my birth story is that I had no part in my survival. For someone who can be such a control freak it seems strange. No? Yet it points all the more clearly to God’s sovereignty, His graciousness, His mercy, His provision, His timing, His hand at work in my life. I cannot try to, even secretly, take any credit. Things around me change; new job, new apartment/home, new responsibilities. Seasons change, but God does not. What a relief, what a comfort to know that God stays the same; that He who was so clearly present in my beginnings continues to walk with me now as I begin a new season in life.

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