When I found out I was pregnant with my 3rd and it was also a boy (its more common in males) we started doing everything we had learned to do to win the battle in the spirit. We went to the elders of the church and were anointed. There is no "fervent prayer of a righteous man" quite like the prayers of a mother. I claimed healing and testified to its immanent arrival. We spoke scripture over our unborn son. We prayed in the spirit. Two or more had come in His name. My hope had been built to such a mighty climax, that the day before my scheduled induction I sat in the car and cried thinking of the miracle we were about to witness.
The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever;
Do not forsake the works of Your hands. Psalm 138:8
Then it happened, 13 hours of labor had passed and we were going to see a miracle, except we didn't. Extra pinkys, extra big toes, webbed middle and ring finger on his right hand, and webbed toes. I felt my heart break in that moment. We did EVERYTHING we were supposed to do. If I were a different woman I probably would have cried right then and there, but I soldiered on like it was no big deal. But it was. When the pediatrician came in and said "webbed fingers and webbed toes, I guess you're the one that gave that to them?" it was a big deal. When I had to call the children's hospital and they knew my name and it was like talking to old friends it was a big deal. For a couple weeks I walked around like a zombie. I didn't want to go to church and answer questions. I didn't want strangers bringing meals and trying to not to look at his hands. I didn't cry until about 3 weeks or so later as I stood over a sink full of dishes and I lost it. And He said to me "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are My ways, your ways." And quite frankly that wasn't really good enough.
Fast forward a few months after his surgery. While sitting and praying I heard Him say "the things you battled for have been won. There are things unseen that have been shifted." I thought well if all that was so that my future grandbabies could be set free, it was worth it. I shared with ladies from church the word that was spoken to me and took comfort in that. Almost 2 months after that I got a positive pregnancy test. I can remember talking to my best friend, who knows this battle better than most, and saying "I don't know that I feel like praying for a miracle. I don't know that I am brave enough to hope and have it crushed again." She informed me that not doing so was not an option. (side note: those are the best kinds of friends) Again I am pregnant with a boy. I am now 3 weeks away from my due date. People talk as though we are sure to see it again. Their is no doubt in the OB's mind we will be doing all of that again. This time my prayer is different. "God let me be okay with the outcome." "Don't let my faith waiver if my prayers are not answered." "Guard my heart Lord." Hope would seem silly to most, sometimes it seems silly to me. But I have no other choice, I can't hope for all the others and not for him. I can't let myself believe less than His promises. At the 20 week appointment, without knowing a thing, the ultrasound tech got a super clear picture of both his feet, and said "Look at his cute little toes." Because both are soft tissue issues, they won't show on regular ultrasound, but I felt like he said "It's okay Mom."
I don't know if he will be born unable to wear shoes until he's 1. I don't know if he'll grow up to be a master swimmer. (we hear that a lot) I don't know if prayers will be answered or not. I do know that He loves me, I know that He has a hope and future for my little man. I know that whatever the deal He is still God and seated on the throne. No matter how many times you've prayed for breakthrough, however many times you have cried in the dark for healing and heard nothing, my prayer is that you would be brave enough to hope. That your faith would look foolish to those who don't know Him. Hang in there, you are shifting the atmosphere.
