This Christmas, we are excited to announce that our sweet baby girl, Eden Joy, will be arriving around early May! There’s a lot of story in this photo, though, and for those who care to read something a bit longer, I wanted to share.
Eden is actually our fourth pregnancy. Last Thanksgiving, we lost our first baby, River Shiloh, at around nine weeks. We were still grieving last Christmas. We chose River because of Ezekiel 47, Revelation 22, and Psalm 46, and Shiloh because of Hannah’s prayer in 1 Samuel and how it was a place that signified God’s presence. There is hope and comfort in the beauty of knowing our baby is with Jesus, and with my mom, and that our baby knows the reality of that river.
During that time, we received a plaque and card in the mail with the beginning part of Isaiah 43. The senders had no idea about our baby’s name. It was extremely comforting and meaningful to us to read God’s promise that when we pass through the rivers or the fires, they would not overwhelm us. We felt really seen and known by the Lord.
A few months later, we were excited to find out on a trip for our anniversary that we were pregnant again. This time, we saw our baby’s heartbeat and were so hopeful, but we lost Haven Phoenix too. I will never forget coming home from the OB and, as we cried and wrestled through our questions and our anger with God, Will prayed so honestly:
“Even though we don’t understand, I can’t escape the reality of the cross and what it says of how You care.”
We played the song May I Never Lose the Wonder of the Cross and cried some more. We chose Haven because our baby is safe with Jesus, and Phoenix because it means fire. We clung to Isaiah 43 again. Haven would have been born this week, Christmas 2023.
I had so been anticipating and looking forward to loving and nurturing either of our babies last fall and spring. It’s a long story, but I felt God leading me to teach at a school that is part of a ministry our church supports. I both really wanted to teach again, loved the kids, the teachers, and the school, and also felt so angry about it.
“God, these aren’t the kids I wanted You to let me pour into this year.”
Through tears, I said yes to the job (which has been such a huge gift, and I love it). One song that was so meaningful to me at the end of the summer was Honest Offering by Cain. I sang it a lot as I worked on those first lesson plans:
“Jesus, You can have it all. You can have it all. You love every broken piece of an honest offering.”
So Jesus, You can have it all—all of our dreams and hopes for our own children one day.
God’s Faithfulness Through the Unknown
On the first day of school, there was another positive test, but it was short-lived. Another loss. But then, a few weeks later, God gave us Eden. There are more details than I can share here, but we felt sure from the beginning she was a girl and an answer to our prayers. Every OB appointment—and the days leading up to it—felt like a journey of faith.
A heartbeat. A strong heartbeat. Growing right on track, not behind. Past the first nine weeks. Past the first trimester. Thank You, God.
Now, almost 21 weeks along. Feeling her little flutters.
And then, a few weeks ago, we got to December 1. A message flashed across my laptop screen with NIPT genetic testing results:
“Your baby has a 95% risk of Trisomy 21, Down syndrome.”
I sobbed and sobbed.
“Why God? Why?”
I was so angry. My thoughts were dark, sad, and scared. All of my dreams for our little girl could be different now. We won’t know for sure until she is born. We pray for a miracle, but we are in a better place of acceptance, preparing, and feeling excited to meet, love, hold, and parent our little Eden no matter how God has made her.
Those first days, though, after reading those test results, I was reeling with a lot of grief.
Peace Beyond Understanding
About an hour after reading this news about Eden, Will had to go to the ER. It is a long story, but after many tests and hours later, the ER doctor came in and told us that they found nodules on his lungs and a swollen lymph node. And then she said the word cancer.
“You might have cancer,” she said—followed by referrals to a pulmonologist and possibly an oncologist.
It was all too much for one day. I felt totally crushed. In a few hours, our whole world and future felt turned upside down. There were a lot of tears.
A week later, before Will’s first pulmonologist appointment, we were reading Isaiah 40. We’ve felt kind of bombarded lately by this chapter from so many different directions. This was the first day we read it. When we got to verse 11, I teared up:
“He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead those that are with young.”
I felt so seen and known by God. I felt His peace and comfort. From that day on, He’s given a shift in my whole outlook. We both feel so cared for and held by Him in the midst of the unknowns.
Defiant Hope
We still don’t know about Will. He had a PET scan Monday and a follow-up appointment today. The doctor seemed hopeful that it’s not cancer and that an autoimmune disease or another type of infection could be likely. We won’t know anything more definitively until after his biopsy on the 27th.
For now, we wait, but we continue to feel so much unexplainable peace and tangible care from God through the love of so many. He has been so good to us.
Isaiah 40 describes a people who were losing hope because everything around them looked bleak. They had been waiting for their Messiah for a while and were cynical and distrusting of God’s promises and care. How we’ve felt that.
And then the writer turns the audience’s focus away from their fear and hopelessness to such a strong, tender description of the power, character, and heart of their unchanging God:
“Go up to a high mountain. Lift up your voice with strength, saying, ‘See your God, behold He comes with power.’”
We will see the glory of the Lord revealed. We don’t know what it will look like, but we WILL see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, and we will never see the end of His goodness.
And so I wanted this photo and pregnancy announcement to be an act of defiance. Defiance against despair. Defiance against the darkness.
As the Rend Collective song says, I want to declare His goodness in the dark, in this winter. We want to say that even though we are in a season where there has been a lot of tears, fear, honest wrestling with God, and hard waiting, we can’t escape His love and all of His goodness that keeps running after us.
“I love You, Lord. You have led me through the fire.
In darkest hours, You were close like no other.
I’ve known You as a Father, I’ve known You as a Friend—
and I have lived in the goodness of God.
All my life You have been faithful.
All my life You have been so, so good.
With every breath that I am able,
I will sing of the goodness of God.”
Merry Christmas, from all three of us.
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