About a week later, I had a dream that I had a baby. There was more to the dream, but that's all that's really important right now. I couldn't get the dream out of my head, but I decided to keep it to myself. That morning after church, a man came up to me and told me that a WEEK EARLIER he'd had a dream about me having a baby... and proceeded share with me the EXACT DREAM I'd had THAT NIGHT! Of course I was shocked, and as the man prayed for me, healing began to take place in my heart, and my eyes began to be opened to things in my life that we ready to be "birthed."
The next morning as I was trying to pull Drew away from his love-affair with our bed (he's responsible when he needs to be, I promise), I realized he had something on his mind that he wasn't saying. "I think we should have a baby." He finally blurted out. I was floored. He had had dreams the entire night about us getting pregnant, and really felt like the dream I had was more than figurative. We prayed about it for a few days, and suddenly all of the things holding us back seemed really minor and unimportant.
We found out I was pregnant the week after my birthday. We literally had gotten pregnant just days after Drew had his dream.
No sooner had I found out I was pregnant, and radiating in the joy of knowing we were about to become parents, than fear came crashing in. China is a fearful place when it comes to children. People are terrified their entire pregnancies... some don't even leave their houses. None of them share the happy news until it is undeniable. And as far as people like us (doing what we do), in the last year I had known of more than five pregnancies that had ended in broken hearts. "What makes you think your baby is going to live?" the enemy taunted. Wow, what a joy-kill.
I was gripped with fear... I know it was the enemy. I would wake up every day with a heavy weight over my head and cry as I showered and got dressed. I didn't even want to get out of bed. What an ugly spirit. Finally, with tears falling down my face, I left the house and went for a walk. I cried out to my Father and asked Him for peace.
"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty." The familiar words of Psalm 91 suddenly rushed in my head like a sweet whisper, that was somehow louder than every other screaming voice that was terrorizing me. I sat in silence and let the words rush over my heart like healing waters. I walked home, and tears were still streaming down my face, but they weren't bad ones anymore.
I grabbed my Bible and opened it up. "You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you." I was overwhelmed at the intensity of such an incredible promise.
Days passed, and of course the fear-spirit came back again and again with his razor-blade attacks, and I was still susceptible to them... funny how lies are so much easier to believe than the truth sometimes. When the fear hit me, I would pray, and guess what would happen? The first time fear struck me again, I opened one of my Christian books on childbirth... guess what words were staring me in the face? "Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High..." A few weeks later, fear came at me again. We went to church, and what did the preacher start out with? "Whoever dwells..." We went to get an ultrasound at 10 weeks pregnant. I almost cried at the beautiful life we saw. Then we found out the day our baby was conceived. I was reading a One-Year Bible at the time. Guess which day he was conceived? The day Psalm 91 was written in my Bible. My mom and mother-in-law threw me a baby shower when we were back in Canada. Women were asked to share wisdom and scriptures with me. Guess which scripture came up again? Yep, Psalm 91. He cares for us so much.
We decided to have the baby here in Thailand (we are finally leaving here on Sunday) because we don't have medical insurance in Canada (long story). We met three incredible nurses here from the States and Ireland who have made it their ministry to help expats have babies here. Through them we were able to find a great place to stay, have birthing classes, and pick a great doctor and hospital. My mom came all the way from Canada to visit us for two weeks when the baby was supposed to be born.
We all expected the baby to come early... apparently he didn't get the memo. I went into labor twice for twelve hours each time, and at just about three minutes apart, and getting our shoes on to leave for the hospital, the contractions completely subsided. I went to the doctor eight days after my due date, and three days before my mom was supposed to go home, and received a negative report (I wasn't in labor, or if I was, I was in the VERY early stages). I tried to hold back tears as we left the doctor's office. It had been a discouraging week, knowing my mom had spent thousands of dollars and time away from her kids to see the baby, and still NO BABY!
We all went home and began to pray. Well, I mostly cried, but Drew and Mom prayed. As we prayed, Drew opened the Bible and began to read the words of Psalm 91 again... our baby's promise verse. For some reason in that moment, those Scriptures comforted me.
Moments later (and I do mean MOMENTS), my water broke. I realized shortly after that there was meconium in the water, signaling that the baby was under stress. We rushed to the hospital. I was put on a fetal monitor all night, and we were left alone to watch our baby’s heart rate rise and fall. As the long hours dragged on, and fear was ever-present, there was a great Presence in the room... the Presence of "the Most High." Eleven hours later, the baby was still not far enough down the birth canal, but the doctor asked me to push. The baby’s heart rate dropped drastically and I was rushed out for an emergency C-section. We found out later that the baby was face up, and the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his face.
I had to be put to sleep during the C-section. When I woke up, I put my hand down to my stomach to feel whether there was a baby still in it or not. The moment they handed me our little boy, I was in love. I couldn't get over how much he looked like Drew. We named him Aaron Ezekiel. Aaron means "Mountain of Strength," and Ezekiel means "The Lord Strengthens."
I still can't believe God's protection over him during those long hours. The promise of Psalm 91 had been given to me over and over for that night (and for all the days of his future). I am amazed and overwhelmed when I retell the story of God's faithfulness and hand on our son... and this is only the beginning.
We all look forward in eager expectation to see what happens next.
Aaron, the best is yet to come...
