If you would have asked me a few years ago if I would have considered today’s events to be miraculous, I probably would have said no.  I feel differently now, and for that I am grateful. We had our first ultrasound since I have started writing this blog, so this was the first time we have seen Audrey in 2 1/2 weeks.  It appears that God has been busy….

Our technician’s name is Patti.  I say “is” because we have pretty much given her no choice but to stay with us during the coming weeks. We know that she was handpicked by the Lord to walk with us, and we have no intention of letting her off the hook:) We just adore her. Patti works with Dr. Fortunato, and was with us the day that we had the confirmation ultrasound at Centennial Hospital.  Today, she spent two hours with us.  She would not give up until she had seen everything she thought she could see.  In any situation, this would have been considered amazing, but even more so considering the circumstances.  The fact of the matter is that she sees our baby as a child worthy of the time.  As a mother, I could not ask for more.  Patti told me not to write about her, and said that she was “just doing her job.”  It appears that we disagree about exactly what qualifications are required to make a difference in someone’s life.  She may have been doing a job, but it wasn’t one that you get by earning a degree.  It was one of compassion and of dedication, and we are forever grateful for 12o minutes of looking at our sweet baby with a near stranger who loved her with us.  Thank you, Patti, may God return this blessing  to you tenfold during your days…
Because of her relentless work, we were able to see glimpses of our Father’s Hands at work. Dr. Fortunato will be reviewing my pictures in the morning, so I will wait to comment on details…when we have a better handle on what to ask for in prayer, I will update the blog again. For today, we rejoice in what we feel are miracles.  Although we have no reason to believe that the outcome of her life will be different at this point, she is already defying what we have seen as reality.  Here are the highlights…
Firstly, we have never seen a bladder.  It was our assumption that she did not have one. 
She does.
We had never seen her stomach.  
We did today.
We had never really been sure if she had four chambers in her heart. 
She does.
And remember those “non-functioning, polycystic kidneys?” 
Well, it looks like our God decided to heal one of them.  
Medically possibly? I’m not sure.  And that in itself is enough to leave us speechless.
There were also some things that we hadn’t seen before today that brought up more questions, but they are small questions compared to big answers.
Todd said tonight that he had never seen me so happy.  I tend to agree.  I can’t remember ever looking at an ultrasound and thanking God for a stomach or a bladder.  I don’t particularly remember even seeing the six healthy kidneys that I have created before today.  The truth is that I have taken a lot for granted.  I’m not going to say that I won’t ever do that again, but it certainly won’t come as naturally.  If you had been a fly on the wall in our car on the way home, you would not have thought we were carrying a tragedy.  You would have laughed with us in joyful awe, as I hope you are now.  As far as how God decides to paint the rest of her life?  We don’t know that yet.  What we do know is that He is in our midst, and the glory of this moment belongs to Him.  We are not afraid to pray the unimaginable and I beg you to join us.
I hope to know (and write) more very soon.  I could not stand to go to bed tonight without sharing this with you all.  Know that we are peaceful and resting where we are, holding onto hope.  
We are not praying because we believe that God will heal our Audrey.  We don’t know that He will.
We are praising Him because He can.  

We celebrated my nephew’s 11th birthday tonight and we laughed and cried over burgers and miracles.  All the kids took home balloons from the restaurant, and Kate became particularly connected to hers.  When I say “connected,” what I mean is “screaming bloody murder when anyone touched, approached, or looked at her balloon.”
After all the candles were blown out and the house was quiet, Todd called me into Kate’s room, where she was (finally) sleeping.  She was clearly in dreamland, but in her left hand, she was gripping the balloon string as the object of her affection floated unassumingly over her head.  That is so Kate, I thought.  After I laughed for a minute, it occurred to me that she was doing exactly what we are.

Against all odds, she was refusing to let go.
Thank you for reading, for loving us, and for praying.  
With much gratitude and joy,