Hooray for 31 Weeks!
Sarah's primary doctor came to say, "You're making us look good!" He said that the babies are a great weight, and are what quads usually weigh when they are weeks further. He also added, "We're going to be talking about you for a long time."
She is doing very well--no high blood pressure, no diabetes, and no preclampsia--so he wants her to hang in there. He would feel a lot better if they made it to 34 weeks. He is not worried about delivering the babies themselves. The whole thing should take about an hour. He will try to give each one his or her minute birthday, if possible. He will also try to avoid a blood transfusion. What he is mainly concerned about at this point is the ability of her overstretched uterus to contract. If it doesn't contract and Sarah starts hemorrhaging, he will perform an emergency hysterectomy. He said he will have medicines on hand to help, and will hope for the best outcome. Please pray that Sarah will not have complications and require the additional surgery.
Later, the nurse commented that she didn't want to scare her with typical quad mom conditions, but considering everything, Sarah is doing incredibly well. I told the nurse about Sarah's around-the-world prayer support, and that God was answering those prayers. The nurse added, "That's fantastic! Sarah is very fortunate."
Biophysicals were stressful today because the cord blood flow was checked on each baby. The sonographer measures the cord tension or blood flow from the placenta to the baby. Preferable scores are 3 or below. Quad A was 2.3, Quad B was 2.7, Quad C was 2. 8, but Quad D was 3.2. The technician was concerned enough to put Sarah in her wheelchair and look up the results in her reference materials. She came back with the report saying it was probably okay. Apparently, the flow score is like a blood pressure reading. It can change each minute. Everyone got 8's on the actual biophysicals. The sonographer said, "I have NO idea how they did it, but B and C have traded places, fluid sacs and all!" I guess it's a toss up now about who comes out first.
Sarah and Tony have some names tentatively chosen. It wasn't easy to come up with eight names. I read out hundreds of names and their meanings until Sarah came up with a list of first names that she liked. Then it was time for the second names. Those were easier. She and Tony finally agreed on the following LONG list of names:
Quad A--Landon (Gentle Strength) Anthony (Praiseworthy)
Quad B--Jackson (Gracious Gift of God) Thomas (Twin)
Quad C--Sarah (Princess) Isabella (Oath of God)
Quad D--Samantha (God Hears) Jo (May God Multiply)
I like the names, but I have a feeling that we will be calling them by their letters.
Recently, my cousin mentioned my tendency to turn everything into ministry. She is right. There's a reason.
When I was young, I rode the bus with a young man named Tim. We went to elementary and middle school together, sometimes in the same classes. Tim was older than I was because he had repeated a grade. He was reserved, and his eyes had a far-away look in them. I wondered what he had been through that made him so thoughtful.
Tim's house was not far from mine. It was an old, large house that was well-worn. There was a huge tree that was suitable for climbing in the front yard. Every day, the bus would stop on the busy street to let Tim out in front of his house. When he walked into the yard, the front door would burst open and a number of children would run out to meet him. Tim would drop his books and pick up a child or two. Laughing, the rest would jump around him. As the bus drove off, I would turn around in my seat to watch the regular reunion. I later heard that Tim was a father figure to his siblings. I admired him for that. We became friends.
When it was time for high school, I went to a private school and sadly left my friends behind. I often wondered about Tim, especially when I would drive by his house. We were growing up and moving on, and I had regrets. During all those years of bus ride conversations, I had never told Tim about the most important part of my life: my relationship with God.
One hot summer evening, I went to the fair with family and friends. It was so much fun--the animals, the cotton candy, and the carnival rides. We headed down the hill to ride when I saw a familiar face in the crowd. It was Tim! I was so glad to see him; he had been much on my mind lately. My group went over to talk to his group. Tim and I were the only acquaintances, so everyone else was silent while we caught up. He asked about school and my job. I asked about his family.
While Tim was filling me in, I felt God quietly speaking to me. "Invite Tim to church this Sunday." I laughed a little too loudly at what Tim was saying, and quickly asked about his car. I was stalling while I argued with God. "I can't ask him to church in front of all of these people!" I thought. "He will be embarrassed. I will be mortified."
I felt God speaking to me again, patiently repeating His directive. "Invite Tim to church this Sunday." Tim had a puzzled look on his face; he seemed to sense that I was distracted. He started backing up, telling me again how good it was to catch up. Relieved, I said my goodbyes. I promised myself I would call Tim privately to invite him to church when we didn't have an audience.
Our groups went in opposite directions. I stayed late at the fair, but did not enjoy the rest of my evening. I was feeling guilty.
I had to work the next day, and then babysat. I was so busy that I forgot to call Tim. I didn't feel so guilty anymore, anyway. That Sunday, I remember sitting in the pew at church, purposing to call him soon. But I didn't.
One day, I was standing in the kitchen when the phone rang. I answered. It was a friend who said quietly, "Sondra-did you hear about Tim?"
"Tim? What about him?" I replied while crunching a carrot stick." I saw him not too long ago."
She was silent for a few seconds. I put down my carrot. "What happened?" I asked.
"He's dead. He drowned in the lake."
I don't remember much else about that day. I wanted to run away as far as I could, hoping to escape the horror of what had happened. Tim was gone. I hadn't even asked him about his relationship with God. It was too late, and the reason I had kept quiet sickened me. I had been too embarrassed to ask a friend to come to church.
My grandma used to say, "Regret makes a miserable bedfellow." It's true. In the weeks that followed, I kept driving by Tim's house, full of misery and regret. I never saw the kids playing outside again.
Eventually, the house stood empty. It was torn down to make way for a business. To this day, every time I drive by I think of Tim. I will never forget him, nor will I ever stop regretting my selfish choice to remain quiet.
My cousin was right when she said that I turn whatever I do into ministry. If God gives me an opportunity, I try to point people to Christ. I do it in memory of Tim.
"It’s not important who does the planting, or who does the watering. What’s important is that God makes the seed grow. The one who plants and the one who waters work together with the same purpose. And both will be rewarded for their own hard work."
I Corinthians 3:7-8