Our Christmas Miracle

Last year Luke and I didn't make New Year's resolutions. Instead, we shared our hopes for 2013. One of the biggest was that we would become parents this year. After trying to conceive for 3 1/2 years, we were first starting to feel hopeful about the possibility around Christmas last year. We prayed and prayed that the Lord would bless us with a sweet baby this year. And truly felt hopeful He would.

When we learned we were pregnant in May, we were overjoyed. We had given up on having a baby in 2013, but were by no means upset about that. After all, God's timing is perfect. On Tuesday night, Christmas Eve, I had mentioned to a friend those prayers and thoughts from last year, and even joked with Luke about how God does have a sense of humor and it was still possible that He would decide our child would be born this year. After a very easy first eight months of pregnancy, it really was just in jest.

So when my water broke as I stepped into the shower to get ready for the Christmas festivities for the Wessler side, I wasn't sure what to do/think/believe. Nine hours later, at 6:41 p.m. Christmas Day, Michael Alden was born at 17.25 inches and weighing 4 lbs. 14 oz. Wow! God is good! So good! And while his name has been picked out for many months, it couldn't be more fitting since Michael means "Gift from God." In addition to the marvelous gift he is, God's grace has been gifted to us in many other ways this week:

- Many of you know from this post that we were concerned about Michael's kidneys. One in particular was substantially larger than normal at earlier sonograms and we weren't sure what sort of follow up treatment he would need. We prayed. Many of you prayed. God answers prayers! His kidneys only showed a bit of swelling after birth and the doctors are not at all concerned!

- With Michael making his entrance 5 1/2 weeks early, we were told during labor that he would likely be going to the NICU. This is where the earliest and sickest babies go. But our little warrior is strong, and was sent to the level 2 nursery instead. Though it is hard to not have him at home, we are blessed that he is as healthy as he is. Right now he's the smallest baby in the nursery.

- Location location location. Seriously. We live about a mile or so from the hospital, so when they determined I was in labor, Luke easily went home to gather some belongings. And as we spend as much time as possible with Michael in the hospital while also trying to get some sleep, we are so blessed that very little of our time has to be spent in transit. Praise God!

- We are also just in awe of how God designed each of us. The human body is incredible. Labor is named as such for a reason, but is nonetheless a demonstration of God's sovereignty and power and gentleness and love. Designing women's bodies to nurture and develop another human being, and providing everything that human needs to thrive through breastmilk and love is just… wow. We'll spare you the details and just leave it at that.

- Our friends and family are amazing. AMAZING. Not a need has been expressed that hasn't been met, and we've received so much more support, encouragement, love, and practical help than we could have ever imagined. From the many lunches brought to the hospital (plus restaurant gift cards and coffee), to the friend who bought us toilet paper and dish soap simply because we didn't have time to get to the store, to those who have provided rides, and for the many wonderful gifts (who really knows whether or not they will need to buy preemie clothing?!?) brought to the hospital, to our home, or sent in the mail, it has been overwhelmingly wonderful. Even more than all that, we are in awe of the number of people who have prayed for, over and with us. Thank you! What a gift!

- And while a week ago, we didn't know how we would spend our New Year's Eve, we are ecstatic for the opportunity to spend it in the hospital with our precious newborn son, even if he is resting peacefully in the incubator.

Michael's birth drew us into the events of our Savior's birth so many years ago in the manger, knowing the pain and joy Mary felt, and sensing angels singing over the birth of each sweet baby born. In fact, I've been singing Mary Did You Know? every day since then.

Our God is so good. Please continue to pray for us and for Michael. We are exhausted, but plugging along. Michael is very tired too. It is common for premature boys to decide they don't really want to put forth the effort to eat around day four or five. Sometimes it's a short lag and sometimes it lasts days or weeks. Michael hit that wall on Saturday or Sunday and we've done most of his feeding by tube since then. He is given a very specific amount of fortified breastmilk every three hours. It seems so much for his little body, but is necessary for his growth. He is starting to gain weight, but we will not be able to bring him home until he can take all of his feedings by mouth for 24 hours. Otherwise, he is progressing very well, maintaining body temperature and proper vitals. After a few days of phototherapy, his billirubin (jaundice) has gone down and he is no longer in need of that treatment. He's becoming more and more alert (when he's not super sleepy) and more and more beautiful.

Will you pray with us that we will be together at home soon? Daddy's birthday is this Sunday, and we would really love to have Michael home to celebrate. Luke says he's the gift that keeps on giving. And if he's not home, you'll know where to find us - cradling him at the hospital.

As for 2014? We're a little wary to be too specific because we may end up surprised! But in addition to practical hopes like returning to Zambia and our goals related to that, we can say that for 2014 we hope to become better parents each day, growing in love for God, for each other, and for our sweet baby.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

God is good!

One Cup at a Time

It’s hard to see people suffering. For many of us, our very nature wants to jump in, meet the need, and end the hurt in the world. But one thing we had to learn early on to survive the mission field, is that we as individuals cannot physically help everyone in need.

Shortly before we left for Zambia, my grandfather scoffed at the idea of us helping impoverished people in Africa. There is so much need. How were we going to make a difference? He compared it to the seemingly ridiculous idea of draining the ocean one cup at a time. I told him, “Then I’m going to take my cup and get to work and hope that others join me; and when I can’t go on, I’ll hope that more will pick up where I left off.”

Perhaps the overwhelming need in Zambia – for food, shelter, clothing, medical care, role models, education, and the love of Jesus – has desensitized us. Sometimes you have to put blinders on as you walk through town just to make it through your day without giving up. And with the tornadoes that whipped through central Illinois last Sunday and destroyed so many of our friends' homes, we find ourselves doing the same thing for the first time on this side of the world, just to get through it without giving up.

It’s not that we’re ignoring the need. It’s just that if we look at all the devastation, all the need, all the hurt, all the people who’ve lost everything, we get too overwhelmed to be effective in the task before us. It becomes paralyzing.

At seven months pregnant, my options for helping are fairly limited (no piling up large debris by the roadside for me), and I’d more likely be in the way than a helpful blessing in such settings. So I’ve helped where I can – taking inventory of a friend’s battered home, listening, praying.

The beauty of it all is, that as we all give what we can where we can, the needs are met. There has been a tremendous outpouring of support from the entire community, state, and nation in response to these tornadoes. Everyone is doing something. And a lot of somethings add up to everything. I personally may not be able to help everyone, but I can help someone. And as we all help someone, a lot of someones are helped. 

That’s how it works here. That’s how it works in Zambia. We can’t feed every hungry mouth or clothe every underdressed child. But we can help the one. We can serve where we are able. We can train others like our Sports Friends coaches to do the same and they can help the ones in their lives. No one can meet every need. But everyone can meet a need.

Whether it’s contributing to hurricane relief in the Philippines, helping clean up from the tornadoes in the Midwest, sponsoring a Sports Friends coach, serving as a missionary, partnering with a missionary, or committing to prayer, you too can meet a need. And there are plenty of needs to be met, that’s for sure. But hey, I’ll do my small part as part of the body. As a laborer in the harvest. Will you do yours?

“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” – Matthew 9:36-38

With that, I’m reminded of the story of the man and the starfish.

“While wandering a deserted beach at dawn, stagnant in my work, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near, I could see that he was throwing starfish, abandoned on the sand by the tide, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. there were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said, 'It makes a difference for this one.' I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish.” ― Loren Eiseley

Let’s make a difference for the one. One cup at a time.

UPDATE: Mama Prays

So we just got home from the doctor (who, by the way, receives our newsletters because we had his information after we visited his church three years ago). The scans showed basically the same results as we had on Tuesday. The one kidney is about twice the size it should be (about 10 mm), and the other is slightly enlarged. 

What does that mean? Well, there's no way to know for sure at this point. There is a possibility it will work itself out before or just after birth.  That's not highly likely with the size, but our God is in control and we're just trusting Him. We will go back in eight weeks. If the kidneys are still enlarged then (or grow in pace with the rest of the body), they will recommend that the baby is checked by a pediatrician either right after birth or in the weeks to follow. If one or both kidneys is grossly enlarged at that Christmas-week appointment, there is the possibility they will recommend an early delivery (37 weeks or so). 

Though it all still could "work itself out," the cause could potentially be reflux, or a sort of back flow from the bladder. Depending on the severity, this could require long-term antibiotic use or even surgery. There's no way to know right now, and there's nothing we can do to affect the outcome. We were told, though, that if there was going to be something wrong, this would be the thing to have because it is very common.

Obviously, this could change our plans on when we go back to Zambia, but we are optimistic -- hopeful -- that we will still be able to return within two months of his birth. Either way, it's in God's hands and we just ask that you pray with us for the best outcome and for peace and patience along the way. 

One benefit of these extra appointments (that I'm sure we'll be paying for when the bills come in), is the extra sonograms, including some cool 3D shots today. Baby has a big head (we blame the Ludwig genes), a chin dimple (that's mostly from Grandma Wessler's side, though a bit from Grandpa Ludwig), and a seemingly perfect heart and skeletal system. For that we praise God. 

For the original post, click here.

He does not have a strange growth on his face - that's just a byproduct of 3D ultrasounds. :)

Mama Prays

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isaiah 41:10

This may come as a shock, but I like to be in control… of pretty much everything. It helps me feel safe. Comfortable. Grounded. Granted, 2 1/2 years in Africa has helped "cure" me of this, at least when it comes to circumstances outside my home. Because, frankly, all plans in Zambia are contingent on the weather, any local funerals, road conditions, last-minute conferences and the current status of the harvest. So day by day, as planning and controlling become obviously fruitless, I relinquished some of that control. 

In the four years Luke and I were trying to conceive, we also had to let go a bit of the control, the dream, the "perfect timing" we had determined. We learned we weren't in control, and that God's perfect plan is, well, perfect. And when we found out we were expecting just a few days before leaving Zambia for home assignment, it was confirmed, once again, that God is in perfect, wonderful control. 

^^ That timing has nagged at us a bit, though. We find ourselves wondering why, exactly, we need to be in the US when this child is born. We've had friends tell us that they really feel there is a reason for this. And that's been a bit scary to think about. 

Six weeks ago, baby boy's anatomy scan showed that his kidneys were slightly enlarged. They said it was likely nothing to worry about, as this is very common with boys in the womb. Even so, they scheduled a followup sonogram for yesterday. His right kidney was in the normal range. But his left kidney was more than twice the size of the right. 

What that means - we're not exactly sure. We see a specialist tomorrow to get a more detailed scan. He is urinating and amniotic fluid levels are fine. Everything else is fine. But in this 48 hour period before seeing the specialist, mom and dad are not so fine. We've been told not too worry. It's common. It will likely correct itself before or shortly after birth. The follow-up is "just to be safe" and to determine if he's "high risk"…

Oh, please don't tell this mama-to-be that her baby may be high risk. Not after four years of waiting. Not after such an easy and healthy first six months. Not when you also tell me that there is absolutely nothing I can do differently to change the outcome. Nothing I can do? Really? So what do I do? 

Maybe it's nothing at all. Maybe it is. Maybe it changes everything. So, I've been fearful. Like stick-your-head-in-a-cereal-box-til-it-all-goes-away fearful. Mopey, schlumpy, "what-do-you-mean-there's-nothing-I-can-do?" fearful. This, combined with the slightly more reverent crying-out-to-God-in-desperation prayerful. 

Which got us thinking about Abraham and Sarah and Isaac.  They waited some 80 or so years for Isaac, and then had to be willing to give him up. Ultimately, God provided the sacrifice for them, as they were willing in faith to give Him their son.

"'Do not lay a hand on the boy," he said. "Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son."' - Genesis 22:12

Though God was there in the end, I can't imagine all that Abraham was thinking through the process. Lord, I don't want to go through that! I'm willing, I am. But, please... no. Not me. Sometimes I just don't want to be that example of faithfulness proven (or failed in a spirit of crazy fear). 

I do trust. He has proven Himself over and over in majestic, amazing, and sometimes frightening ways in our lives. And it's been for our good. Oh, how He is good. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I wriggle away and cry as I approach the refiner's fire. And I definitely don't want this sweet boy to face that flame. I mean, how did Isaac feel as Abraham tied him to the altar? Lord, I want to pray that if you put us through the fire, you at least spare our son. 


But then I look to the cross. I see the sacrifice of your Son. The fire He faced. And I feel selfish. Greedy. Ashamed. I think of Mary and the strength she must have had, and how she probably had very little idea what the precious baby in her womb would do for the world. And I know that You will give me strength for whatever may come. That You will hold me up when I have nothing else to stand upon. And I trust You. I do. But I'm scared. Forgive me for my fears.

And so now, I pray. The doctors say nothing I can do will change anything. But as I've learned in other times when I can do "nothing," I know I can pray. So I'm praying. And I'm sure I'll be praying every day of this child's life. Because as Chris Rice sings in the song I listened to this morning, Mama Prays:

"Mama prayed, and Jesus stood beside us

Daddy prayed, and the devil had to run

God looked down, and his angels guarded through the harder days

'Cause mama prayed, and daddy prayed."

Will you pray with us?

See the update here!

What's so bad about a bikini?

*Note: I am not trying to start a political debate. Nor am I trying to hurt anyone in my family or the people I knew growing up.  This is me sharing my heart and it's about a personal choice that I am making for my family.  I respect the decisions you make for yours.*

A few months ago a video went viral in which swimsuit designer Jessica Rey talked about the evolution of the female swimsuit and the effect of the bikini on today’s society.

And let me tell you, I thought her modest designs were cute and agreed with much of what she said – but thought I was the exception.

You see, I grew up in bikinis.  I grew up surrounded by bikinis.  With a lake in our backyard, summer wardrobes consisted of pajamas and swimsuits.  We didn’t need much else.  Neighbors came by in their boats, friends swam from dock to dock, and most of the women wore bikinis.  Thin, beautiful women, lying on lawn chairs with Coppertone tanning oil and fashionable sunglasses while their kids competed to make the biggest splash with their cannonballs.  

It was life.  It was normal.  Throwing on a pair of shorts and walking to the neighbor’s house with no shirt was no big deal.

Then the girls hit puberty.  There was a group of us, all with “perfectly” shaped mothers weighing in around 100 pounds, and we were outgrowing them.  Our mothers wouldn’t dare say anything beyond a subtle warning about impending weight gain, but we felt it, and we knew that it really wasn’t normal. 

In the midst of all of this, we were boy crazy.  Through our young years of observation, we learned how to draw compliments or approving eyes with our bodies, and the bikini became about more than cannonballs and suntans (and who can safely do a cannonball in a bikini anyway?).  I remember going to a pool party in seventh grade, for the first time wearing a bikini on a maturing feminine figure, not just that of a small girl.  And my focus was one boy, and making sure he noticed me in my new, barely there swimwear.

I went home disappointed.  The party may have been fun – with water fights and barbecue and friends hanging out… but I didn’t attract the boy, and I felt ugly and worthless.  Over the next few years, though, I wore a lot of bikinis and attracted a lot of boys and to me that was, as a woman, just what you did.  And when a boy I liked didn’t like me, I assumed it was because of my body – my outward appearance.  I wasn’t tan enough, thin enough, pretty enough…

And man have I struggled through the years with being “enough.”  It wasn’t until college that I learned that I was “enough” and loved because I was a child of God.  Not because of how I looked or acted or how many boys were attracted to me in a bikini.

Even so, I’ve struggled with this bikini debate.  I liked the attention I got when wearing them.  Don’t tell anyone, but I still like the attention I get in a bikini, pregnant body aside.  But as we expect our first child, I've had to wrestle the whole idea and think about how we want to raise our children.

Do I want my son to hang out with the girls who are just trying to get him drooling over their bodies?  Do I want my daughter drawing that sort of attention?  As I started to think about all this, I just went back to the idea that it was life, it was normal, and I turned out okay.

But I also know the paths I could have so easily taken.  I listened to the lies that men would only want me if I gave them my body.  In high school I was told by a family member she was surprised my boyfriend was still with me since I was committed to waiting until marriage for sex.  Because that was the lie she had been told and believed and my heart breaks for her.   

While those sorts of thoughts might be “normal” in our culture today, I realize I don’t really want our kids to be “normal.”  I want them to know they are loved as children of God. 

For our daughters: that men who love them for their integrity and faith are far supreme to those who lust over their bodies.  For our sons: to seek God first, and find women after God’s heart.

It may be radical or countercultural, but as I become a mother, I may have to retire my bikinis (or save them for special times with my husband – because after all, we were created to be sexual beings  - one man and one woman – in marriage).  To set an example of modesty for my children.  To demonstrate to my husband that he is special enough to be the only one to see me bare and vulnerable.  And perhaps, to bring a little personal healing along the way.

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” – I Corinthians 6:19-20