We were wrapping up our 36 week ultrasound, which had to have been our 7th one. Truly. With high blood pressure, my doctor was overly cautious. We were so appreciative of this attentiveness. We loved our Tech too, but she was unusually quiet during this appointment.
“You’re seeing your doctor today?” she asked.
We nodded. I had a passing thought – but that’s all it was: a thought. And it wasn’t enough to really complete an entire idea and definitely not something I even thought to mention out loud to Patrick.
She printed our pictures and we were on our way. Patrick was present for every ultrasound, but chose to leave during my physician’s exam this time to run work errands.
I waited in the waiting room an unusually long time. Then I waited even longer in the exam room. The doctor finally came in and was quick to the point. “We noticed that the baby has one kidney.”
My entire body seemed to fold in on itself. The room began to spin. I cried. Hard. She moved in with tissues and I remember watching her speak but heard next to nothing she said.
A week later, on a gloomy day, Patrick and I drove to see a Pediatric Nephrologist in Marshfield, Wisconsin. I had been carrying fear that our little boy would need extra care. Our doctor insisted there was nothing more to this discovery and that one in seven hundred people are actually born with only one kidney. Still, how did we miss this for so long? What else could they have missed? I wasn’t bitter. I wasn’t upset. I was worried. I loved our doctor and her staff. I felt complete comfort in everything except that lingering thought that maybe a missing kidney meant something more.
We were almost to the hospital when the song “Hidden” began to play. There are few times when I feel an instant sense of peace, where I feel that God places something in my life at the exact moment that I need it. This was one of those moments. As I listened to it play, I had complete assurance that my baby would be taken care of. I also had to acknowledge that my idea of fine may look different than His. To date, Maddox’s single kidney has had no affect on his health. None. It’s perfectly functioning for two. And I do acknowledge that a missing kidney is nothing compared to what others battle with their babes. He has not had to face surgery and has had nothing but a raspy cold since his very rocky entrance into this world.
This morning before church, I laid on my bed with our sweet boy. I sang this song to him and thanked God that our unknown of yesterday is now a promise for tomorrow.
Through times of unknown, may you hide in His safety. May you know His peace. And may you give Him glory.