I just finished Karen Kingsbury’s Summer, the 2nd in a series of 4 books. I sobbed my way through the final chapter, where a woman gives birth to a baby girl, only to lose her a few hours later due to a birth defect. She and her husband knew the baby would die, but chose not to abort and they got to spend those few precious hours with her as a result.
Very close to home, People. Very close to home.
When we conceived quadruplets, EVERY SINGLE DOCTOR told us to “reduce” i.e. kill two of the babies so the rest had a better chance. Due to their positions, Bennett and Connor would have been the ones chosen to die. We lost Connor 10 hours after he was born. Bennett is still with us 8 1/2 years later and I cannot, for one moment, imagine life without him.
We finally found a high-risk pregnancy specialist who saw things our way, namely, NO THANK YOU WE DON”T WANT YOU TO KILL OUR BABIES! and things smoothed out from there, until the babies were born prematurely at 25 weeks.
Reading through this fictional character’s experience brought everything back. Holding Connor, saying good-bye, seeing Jim hold him and watching as his little life went to heaven.
I prayed this afternoon, thanking God that Connor would never have to experience all the junk down here that we have to–all the political messes, racial stuff, hatred, worry, anger etc. He’s living out a perfect life with Jesus. And someday–some blessed, wonderful day–I will get to meet him.
Karen’s book said this: Life is God’s to give and God’s to take.