I'm very leery of statistics. Three weeks ago I made my IWU students read an article by Christian Smith debunking some popular stats floating around the Evangelical world. It's not that I don't like statistics, it's that I don't trust them without some thorough data backing them up.
However, I entered into a new relationship with statistics on Easter weekend. Right before Easter, John and I learned that I was pregnant with our first child (yeah, by the way, I'm pregnant!). Our excitement gave way to fear as we received some discouraging reports about levels that were lower than the doctors would have liked. We entered into a lengthy period of doctors visits, blood tests, and continually hearing the phrase, "...this is cause for concern."
Prior to my decision to seriously limit my time on Google, I spent countless hours on-line looking for statistics that would give us hope.
Eventually, we started receiving some good news, and I began to rejoice at hitting certain milestones. I knew the stats of keeping a baby after five weeks...after seeing the heartbeat...after hearing the heartbeat...after the first trimester. My anxiety began to melt as we entered into these phases...I clung to each statistic along the way.
And then somewhere along the way I realized this wasn't a stat, this was a baby. I wasn't calculating odds, I was growing a life. This was not a statistical report; this was a gift that God has entrusted to us for however long he has appointed. We are supposed to nurture this life for however long a season God has ordained. This child belongs to God.
Lord willing we will get to see this Little D sometime in mid-December. If this little one cooperates (and everyone has already told me it won't), this baby will arrive between semesters.
Here's a picture. Little D is 2 inches long with a heart rate of 179. We saw the little one bouncing around like a pinball machine--we even got a little wave. And yes, I am thrilled to report that everything looks healthy! The doctor said this little one is very active.
I told my students in youth group last night. A 7th grader asked if she could pray for me. Here's what she said: "Um, God. Please help Pastor Amanda to feel better. And please help her baby to grow bigger than two inches. And, uh, help Pastor Amanda to be happy and the baby to be happy. Yup."
Yeah, I kinda think "yup" and "amen" are about the same, too.