The Unforeseen Conclusion, Chapter I

I am convinced that God speaks to us in a variety of ways. I think He uses any means at His disposal to teach us something, to point something out, or to point us in the direction we need to seek. He presents us with choices, and He waits. He presents new people, old friends, difficult circumstances -- all for our benefit so that we can learn from these events and become a better, more complete person. It's not easy or pleasant sometimes, but it's all for the greater good.

In my life, God has taught me lessons in a variety of ways. Sometimes it's a direct, very difficult time that shocks and hurts me. I panic; I cry; I pray; I talk; I learn. Other times the approach is more gentle -- a nudge in one direction or an idea that just seems right. Sometimes there is silence while He waits for me to make up my mind based on my past experiences, prayerful consideration and common sense. Twice in my life now, however, God has presented a rather life-changing experience in a very unique way. I call it "the unforeseen conclusion." It's the solution that wasn't even in your realm of thinking, but when it comes, it's absolutely amazing.

The first time this happened was when I was pregnant with the boys. At 20 weeks, I had no idea I was having twins; I just knew I was big -- really big. I had the routine genetic testing done, and the results came back as problematic. I was told to see a counselor who would give me information about the baby and what could possibly be causing the odd numbers. For 10 days I waited until my appointment praying about my unborn child, researching different birth defects and what would be required for care, watching families with disabled children walk around the supermarket or the mall, and wondering how on earth I would cope.

What I noted during my observations of families with special-needs children is that they didn't look overly sad or depressed. They didn't rend their garments or act any way other than loving towards their children. I knew that this was the root of everything: love the child that was on the way, no matter what. Grant and I spent lots of time talking, and we both prepared ourselves. No matter how long our child lived and what was needed, we would handle it.

The day of the appointment arrived, and we spoke to the counselor at length about our family history, ethnic backgrounds and current environment. She then said that because of the numbers present, her best guess was that I was carrying a child with spinal bifida, or this was a multiple birth. Could we come back in an hour, while the clinic shut down for lunch, and they would do a simple ultrasound to check? Seriously? After the completely unfair extra hour, we went into the exam room, held hands and waited, still resolved to love our child, no matter what and for however long we had.

As the technician ran the ultrasound wand over my large belly, we watched as the outline of not one but two skulls popped up side by side. Twins. Identical. I cannot really describe the feeling of seeing them that day. I had steeled myself for an outcome that would require a different set of emotions. Joy, yes, but also resolve and sadness for a life that would be shortened by an ailment that could not be fixed. At seeing the two little ones moving around, I broke completely, overwhelmed by the gift that God had given us. Two lives. We looked at each other in amazement. These were two healthy, perfect babies. Twins we could handle with ease! (God then laughed really, really hard.)

I go back to that time in my life often, wondering why God needed me to experience those 10 days and that one extra hour. I know that He wanted me prepared for any eventuality. I know that my love for my child needed to be first, no matter if that child were physically or mentally impaired or both. He needed Grant and me to be a single parenting unit, joined together by purpose. The experience also made me realize that there is often an unforeseen conclusion that only God knows about.

Perhaps if I had found out about having twins all on my own, my reaction would have been one of worry and hand-wringing. Perhaps I would have freaked out and needed bed rest for my anxiety. As it turned out, I carried those babies for 38 1/2 weeks, with no bed rest, and I delivered naturally. Two baby boys, Gavin Michael and Sean Ellis, were born May 20, 2002 and weighed 6 lbs. 6 oz. (Sean) and 6 lbs. 3 oz. (I told you I was huge.)

On some days, when there is a slight breeze and I can see the leaves just barely rustling in our ficus, I am obliged to close my eyes and stand quietly. I know that God is trying to get my attention and that He is hoping to remind me of the lessons I learned so many years ago. My children, and all their imperfections, need to be loved completely just like God loves them. No matter what their impairments or difficulties, they are still the greatest gifts. He gave them to us, to me, with the thought that I would be the best mother for them. I need to remember that while there might be better scenarios or wishful thinking (we all want our children to act differently sometimes), there are also worse scenarios and people who do not get to have their children for long. The surprise and joy I felt on that day was the result of God's love for me and for them, and I need to remember that every day.