The grass withers,

The flower fades,

But the word of our Lord endures forever ....

He was lent to us for a short time,

A reminder of how tenuous is human life

How enduring the Lord's grace and mercy

Duncan Reid McNear

Born July 2, 1999

Taken home July 13, 1999

Our sweet baby boy, sixth blessing,

Safe forever in the arms of Jesus!

Our hearts are aching

Yet we have peace in knowing

That sweet eternity waits

Just beyond the veil

 While browsing the saved posts from my homeschooling message board, I ran across this prayer of Tuesday, July 13, 1999....

<<Thank you for the precious life you have given in Duncan. We ask You for a miracle, and we say "not my will, but Thine be done." Thank you for your perfect peace and perfect love for this precious family that you have created.>>

This was just the closing paragraph ... the Lord answered all that was in her prayer and then some.

Some of you know already that we received our miracle before Duncan quietly slipped away. In actuality, the miracle began even before the birth, as the Lord set in place a framework of prayer warriors to stand around us. Just two days before, at least five people called or emailed me to tell me that the Lord had laid it on their hearts to pray strongly for me and the baby. I shared with some how the entire pregnancy was difficult, and the last few weeks I had to deal with things that had been said by others and felt by even myself ... will I ever know if I could have made things turn out differently by more warfare? Either way, it's past now, and under the Blood.

Nothing, not even the start of labor, was clear with this pregnancy. I had Braxton-Hicks contractions for two months and was "sure" I was in labor at least twice before I really was. My husband Troy and I felt I would go early, and the weird thing was I really stressed over it until my "due" date actually came and went. Hadn't I gone "over" with four of the five previous ones? And wasn't that date just based on an average, anyway? One week passed, then two ... finally I was sixteen days (more or less) "past due." It was a Wednesday evening, and Troy turned to me and announced that the reason I hadn't gone into labor yet was because we hadn't agreed on middle names. Ridiculous! I thought, and said so. He insisted, however, and since we hadn't settled on that yet, we went ahead. I didn't care for his choice of a girl's middle name, which made us even, I suppose, since he didn't like my choice for a first name. But we did eventually agree ... and immediately I had a pretty strong contraction. "See?" he said.

I had them off and on all evening and the next day. As had been their pattern for weeks, they were fairly strong and regular (promising, anyway) until mid-afternoon, when they would slack off and not begin again until late evening. This time they awoke me around 1 AM. I got up, did a few household things, but wound up having to go lie down a couple of times since my toddler awakened and needed me to settle her back to sleep. During these times I dozed off and would have strong contractions in my sleep. I also remember dreaming about spiritual warfare, rebuking and binding all fear while actually sleeping! By the time I was awakened the second (third?) time with VERY REAL contractions, the fear was not an issue. I posted a prayer request to my homeschooling message board, contemplated calling my mother and a couple of local people for prayer support but decided against it, and walked the floor, concentrating on praise and thanksgiving. "THANK YOU, LORD, FOR THIS BABY!!!" And I could finally, really, mean it!

The hot water finally ran out, and the pushing urge was increasing, so I climbed out of the tub and sat on the potty just for a minute or two-until the next contraction hit. My scream/yell brought Troy running. I stood up between the toilet and tub, leaning on the side of the tub, and looked down at the floor to see a few drops of bright red blood. A chill gripped me and I asked Troy to start praying. He misunderstood my intent-thinking I meant against fear, since that was my battle in the past two labors-and I told him, no, against the bleeding. He did so, and says that after that point there was no more bleeding until after the birth.

The baby's head descended quickly: total pushing stage was less than 15 minutes-the minimum time it would have taken to prepare for a "crash" c-section had we been in the hospital. My waters broke as the head came, and Troy said the fluid was completely clear-a confirmation of no distress till the actual birth, since Duncan would have passed meconium had he been oxygen-deprived during labor. After the head was born, Troy announced that the cord was around the baby's neck, with no slack to pull it free. I reached down to feel for myself and I can attest to the fact that it was too tight to even clamp and cut, which is the usual procedure at such a time. Troy could see that the baby was struggling at that point and urged me to push with everything I had ..... I screamed, I cried out to the Lord, for it felt like pushing against a brick wall and I didn't feel I had it in me to complete the task. Not even Breanna's birth, with her hand up by her face, or Ian's, with his shoulder stuck, was so difficult. When the body slid free, Troy cried out in praise; and I turned to look at our new little one .....

It took me a minute or two to register that he wasn't breathing. I was caught up in wonder at his beauty-and the fact that he was a HE, after I was so sure I was carrying a girl-then I realized Troy was praying and working over him, coaxing him to breathe. I sat down on the edge of the tub and Troy handed Duncan to me, and I continued to marvel even as I took my turn praying and working with him. I could feel his heart still beating, and along with the physical things like suctioning and doing gentle mouth-to-mouth, I was rebuking the spirit of death and speaking the verse which the Lord had given me during an earlier attack, "You shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord." (Proverbs tells us that death and life is in the power of the tongue ... I felt the Lord told me to pray/speak this for both of us, continually, since a week or two before the birth.)

The next stretch is rather hazy to me-a cluster of details that I'm not sure I can string together in proper order. We moved from the bathroom to the bedroom, and Troy went to call one of the neighbors for prayer, then made the call to EMS. He started CPR while on the phone with the 911 operator. Duncan and I were still attached-we hadn't cut the cord yet-and I was dimly aware that I was losing more blood than I should, so I started nipple stimulation. Finally the placenta came (before EMS arrived) and I had been feeling extremely dizzy, so I lay down on the floor next to Duncan while Troy continued CPR. By this time one of the neighbor women was there with us, praying (we have some wonderful brothers and sisters in the Lord who live near us). I remember feeling so desolate-crying "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" to Duncan and asking the Lord to send him back to us-and just wishing as I was lying there that the Lord would take me, too. I felt Him very gently but firmly telling me no, He wouldn't release me yet. (His voice has been so clear at times throughout this!)

EMS arrived and started doing their thing on Duncan, and they decided to send for an additional ambulance for me. I must've looked like the poster child for every home birth horror story ... lying on the floor, white as a sheet, a towel draped over my upper body and my lower body covered in blood. Yuck. They took my blood pressure and it was something like 83/40-I don't remember exactly. Even I knew the numbers weren't good and consented to an IV and transport. They never did have to give me pitocin, though-so my continued nipple stimulation must've helped-slightly embarrassing to do in front of people (though I did try to be discreet, under the blanket) but I knew also that it was needed.

At the hospital, Duncan was taken directly to the ER and I was wheeled upstairs to Labor and Delivery. My only prayer was for a female attendant. I was relieved to find that the midwife on duty was one in the practice which delivered my second and third children-she actually remembered me, though we hadn't met in over 5 years. Come to find out later, she, the nurse who cared for me in L&D, AND the doctor on call in the ER (who later came up and actually prayed with Troy and I) are all believers and attend the same church! Wow-an awesome detail from the Lord's hand.

Duncan was intubated by EMS, stabilized in the ER and then transported to the medical university children's hospital. They brought him up to my room before the transport, and I just wept over him. I did not see him again until the next day, after being released from the hospital myself, and even then I wasn't strong enough physically to spend very much time with him for the first few days. I was very grateful that Troy had the next week off from work and could be there from morning till evening.

The first day, I lay in the hospital-weak from blood loss, exhausted but too wired emotionally to sleep, my mind numb with shock at the morning's events. It was an incredible relief to have the presence of a few of our friends, and then later the pastor of the church we'd been attending for only six months. I have to say that I was probably a bit too cheerful most of the time-the effect of the shock, coupled with a determination not to place too much emphasis on the seriousness of Duncan's condition ... God could do anything, including the miracle of complete, instant restoration. Indeed, this is what we were believing for. At the least, I knew Scripture says to look at the spiritual rather than the natural-and even though what was taking place in the natural was a horrible tragedy, in the spiritual-well, who could say? Only the Lord knew what He intended to bring through it. We had the promise that He would work it all together for good. We also had the reminder that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen": i.e., Duncan's healing. What we were seeing with our eyes only led us to fear-which, as one dear friend from church put it, could be defined by the acronym False Evidence Appearing Real. So, which was the reality? What we could see, or what we knew God could do?

While these questions and more were arising, the Lord assured both Troy and I that this was HIS work.

So many decisions in the first day or so I had to leave in Troy's hands. He called at one point, while I was still in L&D (they later transferred me to the main maternity floor), to ask whether we wanted them to be as non-interventive as possible with Duncan, or do everything they could. I was at a complete loss. How could I answer such a question right then? "Pray about it and do what you feel best," I told him. This was part of the Lord's work in me-to believe that the Lord would give Troy the needed wisdom, and let Troy walk in his place as head of our household. For so long I had worried, nagged, tried to control my husband. Now it was time to step back and completely let him be who he was meant to be-whether he stood or fell-and trust the Lord with the results.

And to Troy's credit-or maybe, as always, to the Lord's-he stood. I am still in awe of my husband's faith through all this, and the changes wrought in both of us.

In the first few days, the prognosis for Duncan was not good, as given by the two main doctors on call at the NNICU. One doctor estimated that he had been without oxygen for as long as 45-50 minutes. (We did not believe it had been that long, since we were doing rescue breathing and CPR at home.) Only time would tell whether his organs, specifically his brain and brain stem (which controls basic functions such as breathing) would recover. We had been warned that this particular doctor tended to be very pessimistic, often encouraging parents of "hopeless cases" to give up even though some of these cases grew up to prove his predictions completely wrong. It angered me to hear them talk as if they expected to lose Duncan. At least, by the Lord's mercy, there were no direct recriminations about the home birth-although I knew people had questions and we did field a few of those-but the medical staff could give us no light, at all. It was completely a waiting game. We waited through the first couple of days, while Duncan was part of a "study" involving hypothermia therapy-his body was kept at 91-92 degrees for 48 hours in an effort to help reduce the swelling and trauma of the oxygen deprivation. He seemed to do well through that, then after they brought his body temperature back up (a slow process, over the course of Sunday afternoon and evening), he began running a fever. Before that point, there were some signs of improvement, physically, and even some responses-reflexive movement (such as response to being tickled), agitation while a rectal temperature was taken, and sucking movements-but after the fever, all of that stopped.

The day after the hypothermia treatment ended, an EEG was scheduled. I was present while the technician prepared Duncan. Aware after a few minutes of someone else beside me, I glanced over and did a double take (almost a triple take), for the person next to me, who had been chatting with the technician, was someone I knew! His name was Rusty Turner, a pediatric neurologist who had walked into my husband's sports card shop the summer before seeking to sell a set of classic baseball cards. My husband had regretted not being able to buy the collection-he couldn't pay Rusty what the cards were really worth-but was very impressed from the start by this man's love for the Lord and godly demeanor. His family, likewise, just shone with the Lord's light; there was no other way to put it!

Later, this family joined the "health food" co-op that a good friend and I run, so I had a few more opportunities to get to know this man. He and I at least knew each other on sight. Standing by Duncan's bedside, I explained what had happened and he seemed genuinely grieved for us and promised to keep us in his prayers. Though we did not know it at the time, Rusty was to be on call at the hospital for the next two weeks, filling in for someone else, and thus was the neurologist in charge of interpreting the results of Duncan's EEG and giving us his perspective.

What an incredible blessing! Not only did we feel that the Lord had just given us an ally in the middle of the enemy camp, but Rusty was there to help support Troy-and that in itself was an answer to my prayers. It seemed I had so many around me to uplift and encourage me, but I couldn't see Troy getting much of that, and prayed that the Lord would send someone to "feed" him.

The first EEG showed almost constant seizures. Rusty recommended giving Duncan Phenobarbital in an attempt to control them. They did a repeat EEG the next day, which was still showing some seizures, so they added Dilantin to the mix ... Duncan's metabolism did not respond well to this, so it was back to the Phenobarb by itself. (Some of the other medications he was on included a diuretic to help his kidneys; there was a possibility of renal failure, especially at the beginning, but his kidney function improved). After this, they kept him on the EEG machine around the clock for a couple of days to watch his brain activity. Again, what they saw was not promising ... Rusty reported a marked decrease in normal brain waves over that time.

Other things that were happening, medically, included a concern over Duncan's kidneys. There was a possibility of renal failure, especially at the beginning, but this improved after they gave him a diuretic. A day or two later, an ultrasound was done, and this showed hemorrhaging in his stomach and adrenals (the stomach they knew about, since they had a tube coming from his stomach to drain excess gastric juices, etc.). Duncan's white blood cell count was elevated, as well, doubtless stemming from infection related to the hemorrhaging. The staff also had some difficulty keeping certain things stable-his temperature, after the initial high fever early Monday morning, and his calcium levels. After the hemorrhaging, Duncan required a blood transfusion. This was one of the details which bothered me most (along with the anti-seizure meds) but there wasn't a lot we could do about it. Troy did go in early one morning to donate blood-just in case we needed it again for Duncan-but it wouldn't be cleared for use for at least three days. (One of the side effects of Troy giving blood, even though he felt it was necessary, was he himself being left physically vulnerable to illness.)

The staff felt almost as helpless as we did, I'm sure. All they could do was keep his body going while waiting for his brain to recover enough from the oxygen deprivation to at least take over his breathing function. And if it never did that much ... what then? I couldn't bear to think of losing him. I literally never allowed myself to think of anything but his complete recovery, whether that was immediate or over the course of time. When my milk came in, I diligently expressed and stored every possible drop, waiting for the time when he would be able to nurse or at least tube feed.

Wednesday, we had another consultation with the doctor, a different one this time, but no more hopeful. She gave the order for me to hold Duncan as much as I wished, though I knew only because she believed we would lose Duncan anyway. I was quite angry with her when we left the NNICU and went out to the main waiting room.

I am ashamed to admit that not until this point did I actively seek out my husband's thoughts about everything that was taking place. In the twelve years of our marriage (our anniversary fell on the day after Duncan's birth), clear communication had been difficult for us. We did not have a terrible marriage, as some would define it, but on the other hand, we never seemed to achieve true unity, either. We had tasted it just after the birth of our fourth child, our first home birth, and I prayed for it to happen again during the months of my pregnancy with Duncan. It was, in fact, my most heartfelt prayer during the time I carried him.

Although after Duncan's birth I'd stopped grappling for mastery in our relationship, our conversation never went much below the surface. Finally, in the midst of my turmoil after the consultation, I recognized that it just wasn't enough; and I asked Troy what he was thinking. I also confessed to him the controlling, disapproving attitude I'd held toward him all the years of our marriage, since this was something the Lord had been convicting me of and I'd just caught myself once again getting impatient and talking "over" Troy as he tried to share his thoughts. He just looked at me in surprise, but opened up and began telling me how he had always feared losing a child. (He mentioned Abraham and Isaac, and this was how I defined this "dealing" for Troy, as I defined mine by Sarah and Abraham.) He told me that when he inquired of the Lord what this was all about, that the Lord told him to just trust Him: "This is MY work." The word from others who where praying and seeking the Lord on our behalf was similar. One thing had been made clear: the struggle centered around Troy, not me, not even Duncan. It was as if Duncan was not even in danger!

Another thing Troy shared was that he felt whatever was going to happen, whether a miracle or Duncan just "going home," would take place when they shut off the ventilator. That was to be our step of faith. A few times over the days to come I would start to doubt and question, and he would remind me; and the Lord gave me peace that this was, indeed, what we should do. All I had to do, really, was to stop and reflect on how perfectly each detail had been lovingly arranged by the Father's hand ... and I knew that whatever happened, it couldn't fail to be just what He intended.

We talked about other things, too: the differences between us-me, with my intensely emotional nature, and Troy, with his equally intense logical approach to life-and how this had created barriers between us. I told him how I had been afraid for most of our marriage to tell Troy what I really felt, including my discernment about spiritual things, because I thought he'd just disregard it and think I was being emotional or just imagining things. This seemed to be a real turning point for us. Over the next few days, we grew closer to each other, closer to the Lord (though I felt the nearness of His presence since the very beginning), and repented to each other of several things that had needed to be dealt with.

We returned to the NNICU unit, and the staff prepared Duncan for me to hold him. This would be the first time since the morning of his birth. When they laid him in my arms, after juggling tubes and wires to get him there, tears began to run down my cheeks as I sang and prayed over him. I told him how sorry I was for being so grouchy while I carried him, and how much I loved him, and how his brothers and sisters were looking forward to him coming home. Oh, my sweet child! I was determined that this would make a difference for you, when nothing else could.

Though I was unable to return that night (Wednesday), my friend Cyndi brought me back to the hospital after I'd returned home from my usual "day" time on Thursday. The unit is much quieter on the evening shift, no doctors doing their rounds, hardly any visitors. I sat in the rocking chair with Duncan in my arms for more than two hours, just soaking in the satisfaction of being close to him and the freedom to sing and pray without interruption. I didn't leave that night till after 1 AM, and because Cyndi had to pick up her husband from work, wasn't home and in bed till after 3. During the next few days, I pushed myself to the limit physically-rising by 9 AM, going in to the hospital for part of the day, staying till Troy came home then returning for part of the night, all to be able to hold Duncan as much as possible. For the first few days, Troy had spent the most time with him, since I had very limited endurance after the birth. For more than a week, when I did make the trip to the hospital I needed to conserve my strength by riding in a wheelchair up to the NNICU. I chafed at my physical weakness-Duncan's need seemed so much greater-but unfortunately, only two days of the longer hours spent at Duncan's bedside took its toll. By Saturday afternoon I was far too exhausted to come back for the night shift, though I longed to be with Duncan. As difficult as the hospital atmosphere was to endure (the spiritual oppression is strong there, and worse in some places than in others), I could not bear to be away from my baby. At Duncan's side I felt at rest, as nowhere else. An almost tangible "bubble" of peace and protection surrounded him, giving comfort both to me and to others who visited. One friend described him as appearing strong and serene, just waiting for the right time to be where he belonged.

Our sense of expectation increased with each day. My mother was preparing to fly out from Missouri to be with us; she had been prevented from doing so the previous weekend and we felt that this delayed timing was actually perfect in the Lord's scheme of things. Believing we were about to see our miracle occur, I was excited at the prospect of my mom being present to witness it.

Friday brought the news that my request to begin breastmilk feeds had been approved, and Duncan received his first milk that afternoon. My return visit that evening held another joy: the NNICU staff relaxed their rule of "two visitors only" and allowed both my pastor and his wife to come visit Duncan while I was there. For at least an hour and a half, we sat close together at Duncan's bedside and basically "had church." We prayed, we worshiped. Pastor Dexter shared the miraculous story of his son's premature birth, during which his wife Barbara was declared clinically dead but raised up again by the Lord. I, in turn, shared the long (very involved!!) story of how we had come to their church just six months before. The Lord truly blessed the time we had together.

Saturday evening I rested, and on Sunday Troy made the decision to take the children up to visit Duncan. This would be their second time (the first was on the Monday previous). The staff prearranged it to move Duncan to an unused alcove; here we would be able to bring in all the children at once and have some measure of privacy. Ian, my second oldest, had a very hard time with being there; he was literally sick to his stomach and couldn't stay in the NNICU itself for very long. My only regrets about this visit were failing to hold Duncan and giving the other children the opportunity to do the same. Because it was such an ordeal to transfer Duncan to another area in the first place, and the staff seemed busy, I didn't even ask. Later, my oldest son Alistair had the hardest time with this one detail-the fact that he never got to hold his baby brother.

Sunday evening I returned to the NNICU. Cyndi dropped me off this time rather than staying with me. It was good to be alone, if only for a little while. My time of fellowship with the Lord that evening was sweet and intense, even though there were times of tears. I found myself completely humbled before Him as I reviewed my many grumblings and complainings during my pregnancy (and before). At one point, while washing up in the restroom, I found myself weeping and asking the Lord why-why it wasn't me He took, since I was the wretch who brought this on my child ... so I felt, since I had allowed myself to question the pregnancy, question the commitment Troy and I had made years before to trust the Lord with our family size, and so often interfered with the Lord's work in my husband by not simply allowing him to function as the high priest and head of our home. It had taken me so long to come to grips with the fact that my respect for Troy and his position had nothing to do with his competence or worthiness.

My mother arrived late this evening, and Troy picked her up at the airport and brought her directly to the hospital, to pick me up and let her see Duncan for the first time.

I remember little that was eventful of the next day. Their attempts to wean Duncan off the ventilator had been increasingly unsuccessful. The staff had waited as long as they felt they possibly could for some sign that Duncan would recover, and the time came to make the difficult choices. Since Thursday they had been discussing what was called a CPAP trial-"continuous positive airway pressure"-which basically meant turning off the function of the ventilator which breathed for Duncan, but leaving the oxygen flow and just enough pressure to keep Duncan's lungs inflated. This was originally scheduled for Friday, but just after lunch the doctor had felt very unwell and decided to go home-a most welcome turn of events, from our perspective, since we knew that this was likely "it" as far as our stepping out in faith but we weren't quite prepared for what that might bring. Through one thing and another, it "happened" that they didn't get around to the CPAP until Tuesday, July 13.

Looking back, it's so difficult to try to explain that this is what we felt the Lord wanted us to do-I know to many it may seem that we were just "giving up." We had truly come to the point where we had no other choice but to just step out and trust the Lord, however-Duncan could not remain on the ventilator indefinitely, even had it been possible to take him home on life support equipment. I also believe that this is what the Lord intended, to bring us to the very end of what the medical staff could do for us, past the point where they expected to see any kind of recovery in the natural.

Sometime around noon on Tuesday, we had the last conference with the doctor. She was sympathetic and comforting, if nothing else, and we assured her that we had peace with whatever happened. Troy and I went back to the NNICU to be with Duncan, as the staff made their preparations around us. They gave us the choice between moving to another area or just having screens around Duncan's bed for privacy. We opted for the screens.

It was just before 2:00 in the afternoon. They placed Duncan in my arms and then worked on changing the settings on the ventilator. Troy said something to me-I can't remember what-in praise of my strength and support of him. I looked up at him, my heart full of love for him, and I told him that everything we've been through in the past 12 years has been worth it to see him standing before God, truly fulfilling his position as my spiritual head and priest of our home. He literally broke down and wept, insisting that he wasn't worthy, and I assured him that none of us are ... we were both crying, of course.

Then they turned off the vent, and we waited. I started to sing, and laid my hand over Duncan's chest. His heart still beat strongly, though he didn't breathe now. We watched him start to turn blue ... my song turned to prayer (from Scripture) ... the prayer turned to more tears, and finally all I could do was weep and murmur, "Lord, I trust You-I trust You!" Duncan was completely blue now.

Then-suddenly-he took a breath-then another, and another. I kept praying, crying-Troy and I were both singing now, softly, together. Duncan was pinking up. I looked at the monitor and soon it was reading around 40 breaths a minute-on his own-and he was completely pink again! The nurses kept coming to peek around the screen, as if they just couldn't believe it. We ourselves were astounded and elated at what God had done before our very eyes. We waited-Troy said, "Ok, Lord, what now??" After almost an hour or so of waiting, we changed his diaper, did a feed, suctioned him out (his lungs were a little congested)--carried on as before-and made the decision to try taking the vent tube out completely. It was the next logical step, and he seemed to be holding his own.

Troy left the NNICU to tell those in the waiting room-two friends, Cyndi and Heidi, and my mother-what was happening. Heidi came back to see me, and I believe at this time my mother and Troy went down to the next floor for coffee. While they were gone, one of the nurses came back to inform me that there were some of my family there to see me-after her description, I realized it was my brother and his wife and daughter. I was so excited to have them there, though I hadn't asked them to come and their arrival was a surprise. (He is stationed at a Marine Corps base just an hour and a half away from us.)

Another hour passed, and then some. At this point, I decided to step out for a few minutes, expecting it to be a little while longer before the respiratory tech came to remove the ventilator tube, and it had 5 hours since I'd expressed my milk. I left Duncan in Troy's arms. I was floating on cloud nine, thinking that after what I'd seen, I could believe God for anything ... I spent as little time as I could pumping then quickly cleaned up. I was hardly out of the breastfeeding room when my close friend Cyndi came running out of the NNICU, saying, "You need to get back there NOW." I could see it in her eyes.

I ran-but he was already gone. I put my hand on his chest and started singing again ... I knew that this time the warfare was over and this was to be a farewell song. I looked at the clock-three hours had elapsed since the time the medical staff thought it would be "all over." Three hours-what did that mean, in spiritual terms? Choking on my tears, I asked Troy what he was hearing from the Lord. Very softly, he answered, "It will make you cry."

"Tell me anyway," I said.

He did ... and I did cry, great sobs, with my arms around his neck as he still cradled Duncan in his arms.

Troy didn't wait for me to come back before having them take the vent tube out, because he, like me, didn't think it was that big of a deal-we had seen what appeared in our eyes a miracle and our next thought was getting Duncan home. So, they went ahead with the procedure without me. After the tube was out, Duncan continued on his own for a short time. Troy says he glanced away from Duncan for only a moment, and heard the Lord say in his spirit, "Thank you." (For the step of faith? For our trust in Him??) When he looked back, Duncan had stopped breathing. No pain, no struggle; he was just-gone.

We both wept over that. Why should the Lord say thank you to us? It is we who offer our most humble thanks to Him ...

Duncan never opened his eyes on this world after the birth-so the very first face he ever saw was that of Jesus. He never cried, never had to taste human sorrow.

We are both aching and at peace. I have no other words to explain it. I long to hold my baby, to nurse him and be his mother, here-but how could I call him back to this world so afflicted with evil? Though this child was under attack almost from the moment of his conception, he is where Satan can never touch him again.

I feel keenly the virulence of the enemy's hatred toward us-not only myself and my family, but all who seek to live in a manner pleasing to the Lord-and I take solace in the fact that even during his worst blows, the Lord was orchestrating every detail so that the enemy would be silenced and ALL glory would go only to the One who is truly worthy! "For we know that all things work together for good ....."

"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" GONE, stolen away by the Resurrection of Jesus! Praise GOD for that. Praise to His holy Name forever for redeeming us.

And for those of you who have commented on my strength in all of this-it is HIS strength-not mine, NEVER mine. Please know that. All the glory is His!

So many details, so lovingly worked out ......

Childcare was an issue. We have five older children, but never once did we lack for someone to look after them, even on the night Troy had to work and then brought my mother to the hospital before we all returned home around 2 a.m. My brother Skyler and his wife took the first "shift," unasked, as soon as they heard the news of Duncan's birth and hospitalization. Skyler is an officer in the Marines, and was able to take emergency leave, and so they were able to be there to keep house for us the entire weekend.

Our little church, where we had been attending for barely six months and that not terribly regularly, rallied around us and arranged to bring in meals for almost two weeks. What an incredible relief to not have to think about "what's for dinner"!

The Lord shielded us from any major repercussions concerning the birth taking place at home, and made it clear enough that nothing much would have been different for Duncan elsewhere.

Those who were Duncan's daily caregivers seemed to be hand-chosen by the Lord. Even the one who we didn't "connect" with during her first day with Duncan turned out to be one of our strongest supporters.

Even in the midst of Duncan's homegoing, there were small miracles-even without him breathing on his own for three hours! I discovered later that the Lord "told" my sister in law that she and Sky needed to be there that day ... and he just "happened" to be released from duty early. They were meant to be there for us, as were my mother and Cyndi. After they established that Duncan was really "gone," the staff allowed us all to retire to a private waiting room with his body and just spend some time reflecting and grieving together. It was a very special time. Troy shared his word from the Lord, and we all wept.

The viewing was almost canceled because of misunderstanding and lack of communication on the part of the NNICU doctor in charge that evening. She was a young woman who had never spoken to us and knew nothing of Duncan's story, and a snippy response to the coroner's question caused the coroner to delay releasing Duncan's body to the funeral home. While we were at the funeral home the next morning making arrangements, the coroner just "happened" to call there; Troy was able to speak with her and clear the matter up.

The memorial service was conducted by our very good friend Chuck (Troy's closest male friend and adoptive-ah, uncle? Older brother??); the music performed by other friends. I decided there would be no depressing organ music at my baby's funeral. Bryan Selby played his djembe (a hand drum), and Rich Giersch played guitar and sang. Between us, we had chosen Rich Mullins' "Hold Me Jesus" and "Ready For the Storm."

We made the decision to carry his body back to Troy's hometown in Missouri to be buried in a community/family cemetery. I wasn't sure that I could face being there again so soon after Troy's grandmother's passing (I sang at her funeral when 5 months pregnant with Duncan), but the Lord again gave us grace and peace. The weather was beautiful and the view from the hillside cemetery breathtaking.

The graveside service and burial, it turned out, were also a family affair. Troy read Scripture and spoke briefly (there was no pastor in his hometown that we knew well enough to ask to speak anyway), and I kept my composure long enough to sing the MorningStar song, "Mighty God." That song had been "mine" since long before Duncan ... I sang it as they started the CPAP, just after he flew away home, and many times in the days before that.

It is our prayer, our earnest desire, that our Lord truly receives the glory HE deserves through all of this. Every need has been met ... emotional, physical, financial. He carried us every step of the way and continues to do so.

We are looking forward to another child, if the Lord so blesses us, and another home birth.

This is from a Polaroid taken at the hospital just before his transport to Medical University, about three or four hours after the birth.

He gained a great deal of fluid weight from the IV's. We never did have an accurate birth weight for him, though the NNICU reported his admission at 8 lb., 14 oz. If this was so, then he was my smallest baby. In spite of that, he was definitely the biggest baby, by far, in the NNICU.

I tried to make the most of my time holding him by singing to him, praying, and reading scripture.

Alistair, 8 1/2, and Erin, 5 1/2, touched and played with him constantly during their visit.

Our sweet baby, safe now in the arms of Jesus.