New Creation

I am going to tell a long story about bringing Jordan Lynn into the world. I don’t want to forget a bit of it. Not. One. Bit. I do want to share some parts of it here with you.

Months ago, I found myself learning new things. Maybe they weren’t all new things but a revision of some truths I have known for years with new understanding of the Truth written on my heart. Scripture after scripture, sermon after sermon, podcast after podcast the Lord was fleshing out the same things in me and He still is.

But, one thing, kept coming up and it frightened me. I have been intentionally studying how to pray in the Spirit for a year now. It has changed my prayer time from bringing a list of requests to God and then finishing my coffee to get on with my day. Praying has turned into a real conversation, as one sided as it may seem audibly, where I find myself praying for things I would not ordinarily pray about. It’s been more driven by the Holy Spirit. Here is one of my favorite mini-explanations of this practice: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/how-to-pray-in-the-holy-spirit

Learning more of how to pray in the Spirit, to pray and create space for the Lord to work things out in my prayer times, a recurrent prayer kept coming up: save my life.

Every time I would be praying and feel compelled to pray for my very life to be spared, I seemed to stutter. Is it okay for me to pray that I won’t die? It seems selfish. But it keeps coming up and I want to follow the Holy Spirit in prayer but this? Should I pray for this?

Overwhelmingly, I felt the answer was yes. I found prayers for life saving intervention in the Bible. Everytime the compulsion to pray for my life came, I started obliging it. I prayed for my life to be saved, for me to live so I can mother my daughters, love my husband, and serve the Lord with all I am.

When we found out we were pregnant, it was a big surprise. Moving into the mission field, selling all of our earthly belongings and trekking across the world to a new country carry a certain level of anxiety in transition but, adding a new baby to the family right after that? That was another level of crazy.

My first appointment with the obstetrician assigned to me by the health service here was unsettling, to say the least. He had concerns because he didn’t have all the details about my last daughter’s birth and wasn’t sure whether I should naturally deliver another baby that was already measuring ahead of schedule. His concern was sincere and I understood but wasn’t worried for the same reasons he was. My only concern was about navigating a new health system and trying to turn my nurse brain off as much as I could while still advocating for myself and my baby.

Each appointment, I felt a little anxiety. The recommendations would change a little with every different midwife, ultrasonographer, or consultant, each with their own opinion of how my delivery would go with this “big baby”. I started praying this baby would have not be abnormally large and would have slender shoulders. God really is the only One who could control that outcome!

And still this prayer, along the way, to spare my life. With the constant talk about a “big baby”, I started to think that prayer may have something to do with my delivery.

The morning I woke up to a serious pain that any third time mom would call a “real contraction”, I was worn out. I had an ultrasound scheduled that day. My mom had arrived the week before. It was a few days before the baby’s due date but I knew this could be the day. I slept in once my two year old had gotten out of our bed. I am so glad I did.

As I woke up and went to the Lord in prayer, I laid my little anxieties at His feet. I sang to the Lord. I scribbled the lines of worship in my journal and put myself in my proper place, reminding myself of the big, great God that I serve. I prayed for strength, to remember His promises, to find resilience in my firm foundation of Christ alone, that my precious baby would have a full, healthy start and that I would do all I should and thrive during and after labor. I was sure that this was the day I would go into labor, the infrequent but real contractions indicated I was right.

And I repented. I’m not gonna list those utterances here. I prayed for conviction that I would repent and He faithfully convicted me and I repented. I wanted to be close to God. Having a baby is such a time that closeness to God in creation is purely evident. I wanted no unrepented sin to cloud that closeness.

God took me to Psalm 1, Psalm 32 and Psalm 84. I read them back to God and praised the Lord. May I delight in the law of the Lord and meditate on it day and night. May I be, that day and always, like a tree planted by the streams of water, yielding fruit in season and not withering away. May the Lord watch over my ways. Blessed am I because of the sacrifice of Christ on the cross and His conquering sin and death! That my sins are forgiven in Him! Surely when the mighty waters rise, they will not reach me. God is my hiding place. He will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds me, I trust in Him.

Every word of Psalm 84 stirred my heart in praise and faith. My heart set on pilgrimage, going from strength to strength. Blessed is the man who trusts in God. I prayed:

“You are watching over my ways, Oh Lord. I come fully to You, every bit of myself exposed before You, and You forgive me! In all of my troubles, my fears, my battles, You protect me! I am surrounded by Your singing: songs of deliverance! Songs of Your unfailing love! I will sing and rejoice, I will join You in song, Your promises surrounding me, my praises rising to You! Hallelujah! Amen!”

Little did I know how these prayers would be heard, answered and brought to mind.

Billy drove me to my ultrasound and, once again, baby’s bones were measuring long and I looked impressively large and low. She asked if I was having pains and I told her I had had a few real ones throughout the morning. An hour later, a midwife assessed me on the labor ward and said things hadn’t moved too far along yet. Off to a consultant downstairs who assessed me and said things were not moving too fast and they would induce me in three days if I hadn’t had a baby by then. Between the two assessments, I had a couple of real contractions and the difference noted on assessment confirmed my suspicions: things were actually moving along.

So, Billy and I walked to get some lunch but stayed in the town near the hospital. The thought of me having a baby at home or in the car thirty minutes away was not something Billy was up for entertaining. By the time we finished eating, the pains were more frequent so we went up to our local church where an outreach had just finished and they were sitting down for dinner.

Our pastor’s wife met me outside and prayed for me. I know my anxiety was coming back after getting so many opinions at the hospital and feeling a bit confused by everyone’s different thoughts. Her prayer brought me back to the Lord and I felt an immense calm.

As we talked with the team and heard of their great, providential day of ministry in Ballinasloe, I realized the pains were indeed real, not imaginary, and things were moving along even more. When you are a nurse, you try to downplay your own feelings sometimes. I think we fear being wrong about our assessment of ourselves. Well, my water broke on the way to the car so there was no denying I was right and going to meet our baby face to face soon!

I’ll spare all of the details from then to delivery (you are very welcome). We renamed the baby Jordan Lynn as she was born safely, quickly, and with little time to spare! This would honor both of her grandmothers: Yordanos (an Ethiopian name for Jordan) and Penny Lynn.

But, as soon as she was born, I looked around and thought, Wait...why the spiritual preparation for this? That was quick and healthy. She is perfect.

Then I saw the midwife’s face. Determined confusion puzzled her and I knew it would be my own body that would be the problem. She was trying to determine why I was losing so much blood. By the time she paged the consultant, I knew this was already the most severe post-partum hemorrhage I had had to date. They knew my history and were ready but this was not like the last times.

People flooded the room and I told Billy to message every person he could to pray for my life. No medical provider wants to be in this situation: knowing exactly what is happening and being completely unable to do anything. I remembered my prayers. “In all of my troubles, my fears, my battles, You protect me! I am surrounded by Your singing: songs of deliverance! Songs of Your unfailing love!”

Overwhelmed by the promises of God, I prayed for my mind. I knew He had heard my prayers for my life all these months. I knew those prayers were for this moment. I knew He had gone before me and I was delivered already from this battle. But, I prayed to keep my mind in this battle. I called out repeatedly to God, into my oxygen mask with the anesthetist at my left arm feeling what I knew was becoming a weaker pulse.

My face and arms were getting cool and tingly. I asked what my blood pressure was and was told it was “just fine”. I looked them in their faces and said, “I’ve been a critical care nurse. What is my blood pressure.” Platitudes don’t do much to a nurse who knows this is a tenuous situation. I watched every person in the room, watched the stretcher come in to take me to the operating theatre, watched the face of the young, bright obstetrician explain all the things they would try before they would perform a hysterectomy to save my life.

I heard the familiar sounds of paging for blood products. I thought to myself, They are ordering 4 units of O Negative blood...they don’t even think they have time to cross match me with my own blood type? I know my samples went to the lab when I arrived earlier. I told the frenzied nurse which of my IV’s was still open for the fluid she was setting up. I never lost consciousness, praise the Lord. I heard them say my estimated blood loss was 2.5 liters and I looked at the stretcher. Lord, isn’t that enough? Please let me keep my womb.

Then I stopped bleeding. I could see surprise on the faces of the five midwives, two obstetricians, one anesthetist and the hospital administrator on shift (you know you made a good fuss when the people in dress casual clothes come into the room). I laid there hooked up to IV infusions, monitors, and a precious baby that decided to nurse in the midst of the chaos.

The room was complete peace to me. It didn’t look like it but it sure felt like it. The anesthetist said he was glad he didn’t have to explain everything, that I knew something about medicine. He told me I was a good patient, that I stayed calm and helpful. I told Him the Lord gave me my mind in that moment, that I prayed not to pass out. I told every midwife that the Lord had delivered me! That He had surrounded me with songs of deliverance!

The next few hours were bizarre. Everyone seemed content that I hadn’t needed surgery but surprised. Two and half liters of blood is severe. Billy was at a loss for words, having been so supportive while fearing I would lose my life. He told me that the people running in the hallway when he had to leave the room really scared him. I received four plasma transfusions and countless other medications and blood work were done. The delivery was a dream. The post-partum hemorrhage was a potential nightmare.

I didn’t see my main midwife for a while and I knew she had to be doing some serious paperwork. The young doctor came back in and I thanked her. She did very well under pressure and I shared with her about our call to Ireland. The anesthetist returned and the three of us, while I peacefully nursed my baby, agreed that God had intervened in that room.

Though I felt physically weak and short of breath with walking, my spirit was so strong. Every prayer that God would spare my life came rushing back and I knew the Lord had heard my cry. My baby was perfect. I was little worse for the wear but no one could understand how I wasn’t out of my mind exhausted or why my bloodwork still looked so good. I kept telling them each that the Lord had delivered me! I remember looking at Billy and telling him what a miracle it was that I was leaving this hospital walking and with my womb.

We have been asking our prayer team to pray that we would be a living testimony to those we encounter, especially in labor and delivery. That prayer was answered. I testified of the Lord’s goodness in Christ to every person who would listen (maybe to a few who wouldn’t). When God does something like this, praising Him is the first and best response! Then, you have to tell people!

Were there skilled providers there? Yes. Did I live a healthy life before that gave me a better shot at surviving that situation? Yes. But do we get any of the credit? Absolutely not. The Living God placed the right people at the right time in the right place to witness and assist in His deliverance of my body. Of that, I have no doubt.

When the medical interventions seemed not to work, the prayers of so many people encircled me. When the Lord surrounded me with songs of deliverance, I felt certain His accompaniment was the petitions of my beautiful family in Christ praying on my behalf.

I thought of Gideon going into battle in the book of Judges. This explanation could go on for pages but I will limit myself. When God tells Gideon in Judges chapter 7 that He would defeat the Midianites and give them into Gideon’s hand, God does something important first. He tells Gideon that there are too many men on his team.

God says, “In order that Israel may not boast against me that her own strength saved her, announce now to the people, ‘Anyone who trembles with fear may turn back and leave Mount Gilead.’ “ (Judges 7:2-3). Twenty two thousand soldiers leave. God goes on to prune away more men from this army until only 300 men remain to fight this battle (Judges 7:7).

The attack happens and the Lord’s hand in it is obvious to all. God does just as He said He would: He goes before them and gives Midian into their hands. He does it in a way that shows that only He could have done this.

I rehashed that in my mind for days following Jordan’s birth. So that Israel could not boast of her own strength, God took that army down to a small portion before delivering a large victory. Everyone who heard or saw would know that surely God had His hand in that fight. You could substitute my name for Israel and find what I think was the working by God for my good and His glory in what was a very near tragedy.

I don’t believe that, in my own strength, I could stay conscious, strong-hearted, and even minded through the morning that roughly 30% of my body’s blood volume was gone in a 30 minute window. I would never have thought about getting up and walking to the bathroom alone to shower after such a blood loss, but I did it. I watched a physician stare oddly as she saw me in the hall, shaking her head silently. I even heard them saying there was no way my hemorrhage had been that severe considering my physical assessment and lab work the following days. I assured them it was. Anyone in that room could confirm what had happened. I watched the scene unfold… but the Lord is my strength.

How do I finish this story? I am still at a loss for words despite the hundreds of words I have poured out here. They seem completely insufficient.

Once I was ready, they discharged me home with my precious baby and Billy collected us. We got burgers on the way home and I have enjoyed a bit of bed rest as I regain my endurance. God providentially made a way for my mother and an Austrian teenager to both live with us for the entire month of August. Our big girls are loving having them here and my mom has made me enough lamb livers to boost anyone’s blood supply back up to normal.

It is completely incredible. And life moves on. Baby Jordan is growing. Jane is getting ready for her first year in primary school, called Junior Infants here. Johanna seems like a giant, though she was my little baby a few weeks ago. Billy will go back to work. Our house guests will go home. Ministries will be back in full swing.

Then I will make my coffee in the mornings, sit at my kitchen table, watch the misty rolling hills beyond my garden wall and pray. I will pray and know that, if the Lord puts it on my heart, I better take it to Him. I will enjoy this sweet fellowship with God, driven by the Holy Spirit inside me.

I may never clearly know why I am praying for certain things or people. But, I will pray in the power and righteousness of Christ who has so graciously sacrificed Himself to pay for my sin, that I may come to the Father and know Him deeply. He will hear me and act, maybe not in the ways I expect but in His ways that are higher than my own.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9

“14 For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, 15 from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, 16 that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, 18 may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
20 Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”
Ephesians 3:14-21