Our son was just handed a life altering diagnosis (possibly). Weird right? The neurologist said, “Looks like he maybe, might have a mild case of _____.”

So does he or does he not?

Banks is 20 months old and his hugs and kisses are rivaled by none. Truly. When he reaches his arms out to you, put up a caution wet floor sign, cause you’re on your way to being a puddle. Just melt. You don’t stand a chance.

We have two older girls and so when Banks arrived on the scene, we were excited to discover life with a boy. He hasn’t let us down.

There has just been these developmental delays and some concerns about muscle tension, and now a neurologist has thrown a heavy hitter out there about what that could be. And if that’s what it is, there’s no going back.

It’s a blow for sure.

Shock, denial, anger, sadness. Over and over. And it’s only been maybe 4 days since hearing this. But, we’re hit. And it hurts.

Maybe that’s exposing a part of us that was not as focused on seeking first the kingdom of God. Maybe it is revealing how much of our kingdom we were really setting out to build. The empire of our family. Pictures and dreams we had for everyone. Who they need to be. Don’t get me wrong, I think we are allowed to grieve, if he has what this doctor said he has. But there is a harsh reality in it, or multiple maybe, that would say, God never guaranteed us those dreams that we’re now having to let go. And He doesn’t need those dreams we had to accomplish His plans.

Can God care about our hopes and desires for our lives, while still not needing to fulfill them in order for Him to accomplish His will?

Ok hit pause…

In tandem with this limbo diagnosis, I have been wanting to grow our family again. I am the youngest of 4, so it feels natural for me to have 4 kids.

(Which in light of recent events on multiple fronts, is starting to seem like an arrogance in and of itself…I just expect to have 4 kids without any thought of life altering diagnoses, infertility, house burning down, losing a spouse, losing a job, state of the union falling apart? Something about that expectation is lacking open hands…)

So, I have been hoping to get pregnant again, and soon. Cause in my mind, we’re inching closer to Banks and the next child being too far apart.

But now…

Now, if we got pregnant again, it might be too complicated. Too loaded. Might need too much from this subsequent child. Might just be adding the possibility of more heartbreak. Might be too stressful of a pregnancy at this point, because I would probably obsess over every detail of it! Trying to avoid another hammer hitting doctor visit that dissolves our hopes…again!

Because we have been here before.

I have been here before.

My older sister was born with physical and cognitive disabilities.

My first daughter was born with cancer, and has completed treatment, now living to tell the story!

But now this…

And this one doesn’t have a cure…

So, I don’t know if it is fair to do that to a 4th child. Cause let’s be honest. In my heartest of hearts (is that the phrase? who knows…bigger fish to fry)…I would want another boy. To some how redeem or undo this trauma with Banks. Doesn’t that seem like too much pressure to put on, really, all of our children?

So maybe I don’t think we should get pregnant again. If it was a girl…unfair disappointment for the girl. If it was a boy…unfair pressure to be some sort of saving grace.

But then I think …well that 4th child…that’s me. I’m that 4th subsequent child.

See, it’s my sister, then my 2 brothers, then me. My sister had the disabilities. My mom had complicated feelings about wanting me to be a girl, but then not wanting the feeling of guilt or ingratitude for my sister. So in a way, the same way I’ve just discussed really, she did and didn’t want me to be a girl.

What if I turned out to be a debacle of a child that only wrought heartache and bad behavior, when somewhere in her heart, she did have a desire for a “normal” girl? What if I was nothing like what my mom wanted out of a daughter? What if I was everything like my mom wanted, and then she felt bad for enjoying time with me as if that meant she didn’t enjoy time with my sister? What if, what if, what if.

But what if this picture stopped after the firefighter in the yellow raincoat? What if there were only 3 on this halloween in 1991?

I am that 4th child. I am that 2nd girl. That 4th pregnancy that might have been too complicated. I’m here. And I am both all of those fears and none of them realized. Those questions have been true about my story and there have also been times where they are not true.

Am I worth being here, despite those fears my mom had? Despite the unknown? And have I crumbled under the pressure of living in the shadow of my sister or feeling like I need to be something for my parents? I don’t know. I don’t think so.

Do we ever really know what is up ahead? Even in the light of revelation?

Like that ancient Chinese folklore about the man saying, “I don’t know…we’ll see.” Never can tell what a situation will make itself out to be on the onset of the news. In a matter time, even that news evolves and changes.

Is the idea of “outcome” even real? When everything is constantly evolving, failing, reviving, and new again? Is there such a thing as an “outcome”, if even that outcome can and will change given time?

Even if we got pregnant again, had a boy, he could be a butthead, and then grown and mature and be an angel, and then do some dumb thing, and then pick himself back up, and then and then and then. There’s no telling how any of my kids’ stories will “turn out”…in fact, I don’t know if there is such a thing as “turn out”.

Maybe they, and we, just are. And it’s never really solidified who we “turned out to be”…

David is called the man after God’s own heart. But within his story, there’s ups and downs and complications and events that are not congruent with the title God gave him. Or at least it doesn’t look that way from a human’s limited perspective.

It is interesting how I am uncovering this expectation to know how my kids “turn out”. What will become of them in the end? I will never know! And even if I judge by the events in their life, the Lord still may call them by a name incongruent with their choices.

Humility. Curiosity.

I don’t know…we will see.

All in all…what I am being drawn to…is the humble reality that I am the clay. And He is the potter. And it is most painful to expect my life to be anything but.

The pride of life is being burned away as we speak. Babel is falling within the inner man. He will allow many things to pass through His hands. And again, it is a call to my bluff. How many times are we bluffing in our faith? Touting our belief and confidence? And then what we say we believe, comes to reign in our lives, changing our path, removing the controls from our hands, and giving us the choice to be led, held, and taken forth…or continue to stand shaking our fist, demanding and willing *our* dreams to come true.

Better to be low…even if to bang a fist on the ground…better to be low and say, “Not my will, but yours…” Though I feel comfort and resonate with our Saving Servant requesting at first, “If it be your will, let this cup pass from me…” For that is my prayer in this hour.

Lord, make the diagnosis wrong…but if not…make my heart right.