We had been expecting a baby any day now, and since she was planning a home birth, I thought she was calling to say, “Mom, I’m in labor!” or even, “She’s here, Mom!”
But the moment I heard her voice, I knew something was wrong.
I could tell they were in the car. She couldn’t talk, so she handed the phone to Sam, her husband. And he said:
"We are on our way to the hospital. Annalise had a seizure. We need to get her checked out."
My heart sank.
Later, Sam filled me in on exactly what happened.
Annalise’s moans and restless movements stirred Sam from his sleep. At first, he thought she was caught in a vivid dream, so he called her name—gently at first, then more urgently. But she didn’t respond.
Quickly concerned, he switched on the light, and that’s when he saw blood. It was smeared across the pillow. His stomach dropped. This wasn’t a dream. She was having a seizure.
Rushing to her side, he tried to pry her teeth apart, desperate to save her tongue, but the seizure had made her strength unnaturally intense. He could do nothing but wait, his heart pounding, whispering prayers.
And then—just as suddenly as it started—it stopped.
When she opened her eyes, something in them told Sam she wasn’t fully back. She was there, but not there.
Thinking fast, he gently coaxed her: “Do you want to go to the bathroom?” Anything to keep her awake, to keep her from slipping back into unconsciousness.
As she sat up, he tested her awareness. “Do you know what day it is?”
She blinked at him, confused. She had no idea.
On her way back from the bathroom, she saw embroidered baby clothes next to the bed and said, “Those are so cute! Why do we have those?”
The seizure had temporarily wiped her memory of her current life situation.
Her memory has completely returned now, but she told me she began to feel scared when she realized she didn’t remember being pregnant or why those clothes were there.
We spent the morning watching our dreams for her birth plan shift before our eyes. What we had expected to be a beautiful home birth turned into an emergency C-section surrounded by neurologists and specialists.
Sometimes surprises are fun. Other times, they feel like a gut punch. And lately? Life has been throwing some serious gut punches.
But even in this, we have been able to trace the hand of God and see His goodness.
This past week, we could have lost our daughter Annalise. Pushing out a baby could have been fatal for her. There was no way we could have known about the brain tumor except for the seizure. Never in a million years could I have predicted that I would be thanking the Lord for a seizure, but in this case, I see His protective provision, and I praise His name for it.
Another thing we had asked the Lord for was an epidural. Annalise had her birth plan mapped out—seeing the baby born, skin-to-skin bonding, delayed cord clamping.
Every detail.
But if it was going to have to be an emergency C-section, she reasoned with the doctors, she at least wanted a clear drape so she could see her baby lifted out. Again, the answer was no. The doctors explained that she had to go under general anesthesia because a spinal block would be too dangerous with what was happening in her brain.
She wanted to do everything in the most natural, conservative way. But in her unique situation, a C-section under general anesthesia was the safest way to protect both mama and baby.
We have learned to thank God for His answers because He always has our best interests in mind. We thank Him even when we don’t understand why.
Annalise is my girl, my friend, my soul sister. I raised her. We are close. I love her deeply.
I love all my kids, every single one of them.
The truth is, the more people you love, the more opportunity you have for fun, unexpected surprises—but also for heartbreaking ones.
And friend, if you, like me, are in one of those seasons that just hurts—where you have more questions than answers, where the pain is so raw you never know when it will hit, when you’re afraid to leave the house because you might start crying uncontrollably and rub all your eyelashes off—I see you. I know. I’ve been there this week.
And I can tell you this: God said He will be with us in our troubles, and He will deliver us out of them.
I believe Him. I believe Him even when He’s not following my suggestions and plans—because, let’s be honest, I have some great ideas! But God doesn’t always follow my course of action.
Rude.
But here’s what I know: even when I don’t understand, He is still good. Even when I wonder about His timing. Even when nothing makes sense and it feels like we’re losing. I know He loves us, and I trust Him even when it hurts.
God has the full picture of our lives. He sees above, behind, and beyond what we can see, and His purposes are bigger and more wonderful than we can dream.
So whatever you are walking through, I want you to know—God can be trusted with the plans for your life.
He sees your tears. In fact, Scripture says He counts them and stores them in a jar. He hears your prayers—they rise before Him like incense. He listens. He cares. And when we cry out to Him, we have His ear. Because He is kind. He is compassionate. He is full of grace and mercy.
Friend, whatever your battle is, God is bigger and stronger. I say that from firsthand experience.
Over the past few years, we’ve had several moments where we could have lost a child. But time and time again, we’ve seen God’s hand of protection and provision. And we can testify to His faithfulness.
If you’re in a valley right now, just know—you are not alone. And you are not forgotten. The same God who blessed you before is the One holding you now.
I’ll keep you updated as we walk this journey with Annalise. In the meantime, hold on to this truth—He sees, He knows, and He cares.
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