Chapter Nineteen

              Mickey Mouse and friends danced on stage as the young audience responded with giggles and hand clapping.  As the show ended, swarms of children pushed towards the front to get one touch from the big Mouse himself.  They turned away sadly when Mickey quickly exited before the mob of children attacked him.

              Kari and Ryan sat wide-eyed and quiet in their wheelchairs patiently waiting their turn to leave the large colorful auditorium.  I watched my children stare blankly into the air, knowing they had no understanding of how entertaining the show had been, but their smiles indicated that at least they enjoyed hearing the other children's laughter.

              The room was almost empty when, out of the corner of my eye, I spied him sneaking up behind my kids and slipping a sheet of paper onto their laps.  His big white paw fluffed their hair and his whiskers tickled their faces as he gave them each a big rodent hug.  He said nothing and disappeared as quickly as he came.  Cheerfully scribbled on the paper were all the personal signatures of the Walt Disney characters that had just performed for us.  Ron and I smiled at each other as we witnessed again the royal treatment our family was receiving here at Magic Kingdom.

              The Sunshine Foundation gave our children the five-day trip to Disney World – all expenses paid.  The organization fulfills dreams of chronically or terminally ill children, and they choose our family to receive this generous gift.

              Although we were extremely grateful, we were very hesitant to accept the trip.  I knew it meant traveling by airplane with two severely disabled children, one of whom had not been able to keep food in his stomach.  Vomiting had become a way of life for Ryan over the past few months.

              With the charitable offer too good to pass up, we took a step of faith, and began preparing for the trip, including the careful packing of necessary medical supplies.  Our journey would become a treasured memory for our family.

              When our plane was at cruising altitude on September 10, 1993, the pilot informed the passengers that a very special boy was on the plane celebrating his fifth birthday.  Ryan's eyes twinkled with joy as the stewardess came to sing Happy Birthday to him and squeeze his rosy cheeks.  He loved the attention and proudly displayed his “I'm 5 today” pin on his chest.  For Ryan, there would be no greater badge of honor for him on this earth.  He had made it this many years, with each day a battle for life.

              God rewarded our small step of faith.  He granted Ryan's stomach a five-day reprieve from its revolt – the entire time in Florida the children didn't have any symptom of illness.  Mommy, on the other hand, suffered every morning from a familiar sickness in the pit of her stomach.

              The week before our flight to Florida, I had the nagging suspicion confirmed by my obstetrician – I was two months pregnant.  Following my internal exam, Dr. Block asked Ron and I to sit in his office.  Eager for Dr. Block's results, we listened to the soft music, playing overhead in the bright cheery room.  While I waited, I allowed my thoughts to drift back over the past few years, compiling my many prayers and emotions concerning this very moment.

              How long it had been since I first agonized over the desire to have another child?  Suffering constantly surrounded me during the day.  I had no healthy child to divert my attention.  Was I wrong in my desire to have a child, who I could teach - a healthy child who would be able to fully respond to my love and conversation?  One who could play, get into trouble, be disciplined, and grow to be a responsible adult.  Someone who would help to carry through many generations, the values and morals that God was teaching my husband and me.

              In the middle of the night, this prayer was constantly on my lips.  "Dear God, I am grateful for what you continue to teach me through the lives of Kari and Ryan, I love them dearly!  I see how your gift of children to me enhanced my spiritual growth.  There was no other way to teach me how priceless human life is had it not been for these two children.  I have accepted them as good gifts from you.  Children that you have entrusted to my care during their time spent here on earth.  I am privileged to be a caretaker of your special children!

              "Oh God, I promise to dedicate a third child to your service if you grant me a healthy child.  I will raise him to follow your heart.  I will be diligent to train him to know your character and wisdom.  You have opened the wombs of many barren women in the Bible and I know you can control the genetic weaving for my husband and me to have a healthy child.  You yourself has said, 'is my arm too short?'  I know that you can do anything you desire."

              Before the Lord in prayer, I had confidence that He would grant me my heart's desire, but when I looked away from my Creator to the community around me, turmoil reigned within me.  "What will people think of me?  Am I absolutely crazy, to think of bringing another child into this world who could suffer like Kari and Ryan?  How would I ever handle a third child?  I can barely survive life with two!  What about all the children in the world who would dream of living in a loving family as ours?  Why would I risk producing a less than normal child, when adoption may be an option?"

              The longing in my heart for another child continued.  Our family was not complete, and I knew God was preparing both Ron and me for an addition.  Could we trust Him enough to take this huge step of faith, accepting the child God would give us?

              We considered adopting, but each situation that might have led in that direction ended with a closed door.  The suggestion from our neurologist, to use donor sperm for in vitro fertilization to lessen the possibility of producing another child with a genetic defect, did not fit with our walk of faith. 

              The question still remained:  Would we be willing to accept another handicapped child if we pursued God's natural design for procreating children?

              During one of those times that I agonized over this issue, I met a man through Kari's school who shared his philosophy with me.  He said, "No person should have children unless they are willing to accept a disabled child."  His opinion encouraged me greatly that day.  It was another reminder to me that God is the one who knits together children according to His design.  He also offers the needed strength to those caring for his precious, weak, vulnerable little babies.  We made the decision.  Ron and I did our part; it was up to God to take care of the rest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

              The creak of the office door brought my mind back to the present situation.  "Mr. and Mrs. Denlinger, I see here on your chart that you have two handicapped children." Dr. Block continued in his most professional voice, staring at us over his half glasses.  "I'm suggesting that we run further genetic tests on you and your children so we can attempt to diagnose their condition.  If we could know more, and have the ability to test the fetal tissue, then perhaps you would want to exercise the option of terminating this pregnancy."

              The matter of fact tone and the cold words caused me to bristle.  Taking a deep breath, I responded, "Dr. Block, we will be happy to have further tests completed on ourselves and our children for diagnostic purposes.  I will visit any specialist you would like me to see, but I will not be aborting this baby!"

              He removed his glasses and rubbed his chin as he looked at us thoughtfully.  Speaking gently and with obvious compassion, he continued.  "I will see you through the next seven months.  You are off to a great start Mrs. Denlinger.  Everything looks fine!"

              On our way home, Ron and I had decided to wait until after our trip to Florida to tell Loie of our good news.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

              Loie greeted us enthusiastically when we entered the house after returning from our adventure at Disney World.  She hugged the kids and told them how much she missed them.  We talked excitedly about our enjoyable trip, saving the best news for last.

              My eyes twinkled with anticipation as I waited until I had her attention.  "Guess what, Loie?  I'm pregnant!"  She hesitated, grinning ear to ear.  Not to be out done, she shot back. "I knew it!  You're glowing from more than just the Florida sun.  Congratulations guys!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

              A few months later, I lay on the padded table, staring up at the ceiling.  The classical music station provides soothing music through the intercom while I wait in the examination room.  Dr. Block intently moves the ultrasonic stethoscope over my slightly bulging stomach.  He is not promising me that he can hear the heartbeat at fourteen week's gestation but it is worth a try.

              Unexpectedly, Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" comes resounding into the room, reverberating off the walls at the exact time the stethoscope picks up a healthy rapid heartbeat.  Tears flow out of my eyes down into my ears, as I realize this "coincidence" is a reassurance from God that He had this tiny life in His hand.

              "Well, Mrs. Denlinger, it sounds like a strong healthy heartbeat to me!"  Dr. Block smiles at me as he extends his hand to help me sit up.  "You are past the first trimester and everything still looks good!"

              As I drove home, I realized I had not shared the news of my pregnancy with anyone other than Loie, even though I was confident that God was allowing Ron and I the blessing of another child.  I wouldn't be able to conceal the fact much longer, as I was entering my fourth month of pregnancy. Still I was hesitant, doubtful that others would share the joy that I was experiencing.

              My reluctance in revealing our decision to have a third child after the birth of our first two severely disabled children did have some validity.  When it became obvious that I was pregnant, there were several people who stared in disbelief.  Their expression communicated that they thought we were out of our minds.

              It saddened me to know that they felt this way, for it was a time of celebration for us.  My confidence did not lie in myself but on God, the Creator of our fetus.  I still had no guarantee of this child's quality of life, but this I did know: God was in control and would give us His best.  Ron and I loved Kari and Ryan and we were convinced we had enough love for one more.

              When Ron shared in our Sunday morning service that I was pregnant, applause and shouts of praise rose from our congregation.  They continued to give us their encouragement and support throughout the remainder of my pregnancy, overpowering any unfavorable responses.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

              Ron paced in the back of the auditorium, stopping occasionally to listen by his office door.  He did not want to miss the phone ringing.  An elder was preaching the Sunday morning message and was soon concluding his sermon.  Ron was doubting his decision to leave me this morning; he was of no use at the church.  I, however, had insisted and assured him that if my labor pains became closer, I would call him.  He planned to greet people after the service, wrap up a few administration details at his office, and then make his escape for home.

              At home, I timed contractions as Kari and Ryan rested in their chairs.  I had completed their baths and dressed them.  Loie would come soon to care for them as I headed for the hospital.  My bags were packed and I was at peace.

              It had been an uneventful pregnancy but I was eager to meet the little person who had taken up residence in my overcrowded abdomen.  I wondered if there had ever been a child who had received so much prayer before he or she had even taken the first breath.  Today, as I worked through increasingly stronger contractions, I knew my church family was petitioning the Lord on behalf of the baby and myself.

              Finally Ron and Loie arrived home and found me timing contractions only five minutes apart.  Ron immediately packed my bags in the car and was ready to rush me out the door in good father-to-be fashion.

              I was not as determined to go.  I did not want to spend any extra time at the hospital, so I persuaded him to escort me outside on this beautiful April day to take a walk.  Loie settled the kids for their naps while we were gone, and then the three of us gathered for a time of prayer.  At last, I gave permission to my increasingly anxious husband to take me to the hospital.

              Jeremy Ron Denlinger entered this world quietly on April 24, 1994, without any complications.  He looked perfectly healthy with his red hair sprouting over the top of his head.  His eyes were extremely alert as he looked about the delivery room quietly, observing his brand new world.

              This tiny baby boy had no idea of the dreams and hopes that we had for him.  As he lay cuddled in my arms, Ron gave thanks to the Lord for the safe delivery of another Denlinger son.

              When the staff left me alone in the room to nurse my newborn, I felt tension rising in me. 

Was he healthy enough to suckle at my breast?  Jeremy did not allow me to question him much longer.  He immediately latched on and nursed as though this was an extremely natural thing for him to do.  Tears of joy streamed down my face as I looked up to see if Ron was witnessing this true miracle.  "Oh Ron, look at him, he has an appetite just like you!"

              That night as I relaxed to sleep, I felt perfectly satisfied with the newest member of our family.  He was so beautiful, and showing signs of real hope.

              At two in the morning I awoke in a sweat.  My heart was racing and panic tore through my body. "No, God, Jeremy can't be handicapped!  Please let him live a normal healthy life.  He is so vulnerable, so delightful.  He just can't suffer from the same undiagnosed illness as Kari and Ryan!"  My fear rose menacingly within me and crowded out any joy that had still remained from my delivery a few hours earlier.  I tossed and turned until I couldn't stand it any longer and I paged the nurse.

              "Could you please bring my son to me?"  I stated into the intercom, hearing the trembling in my own voice.  "But, Mrs. Denlinger he is sleeping.  Are you sure you want us to wake him?"

              I insisted and soon heard her wheeling the bassinet down the quiet hallway.  As I picked up my securely wrapped infant, he stretched and pushed his tiny foot out of the swaddling blanket.  "Five toes, that's good!" I whispered as I squeezed it and tucked it under the blue cover again.  He blinked open his dark blue eyes and yawned contentedly in my arms.  He did not hesitate to nurse, even though it was my idea, and competently suckled with great enjoyment.  I felt my body relax with the warmth and security of this little guy in my arms.

              "Nothing can be wrong with him, I never had a child nurse as vigorously as he."  My pleasant thoughts soothed me back to sleep, only to be awakened an hour later by a distraught nurse who was sure I had smothered my newborn when she found me cuddled next to him in the hospital bed.

              Ron arrived late in the morning bearing a proud father grin, chocolate cigars, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  He was so happy with his new baby son and tenderly unwrapped Jeremy's blanket to counted each toe and finger.  He rubbed his nose and fuzzy beard up against Jeremy's soft face and grinned as the baby scrunched his wrinkled brow.  Ron pinched his puffy cheeks and spoke fondly to him and then cuddled him in his awkward muscular arms, handling him like a little football.  I watched the father-son interaction and felt so fortunate to have such a wonderful husband.  The days of tension and arguments seemed far away.

              As we talked, I vulnerably shared the intense fear I experienced during the night concerning our son's health.  "Ron how could have I been in so much peace about this baby throughout my pregnancy, and now that he is here and doing well I am so afraid?  Will he be like Kari and Ryan?  Honey, did we make the right decision?"

              Ron sat down on the bed, laying Jeremy beside me. "I had nightmares of my own last night," he confessed.  "Joan, I so badly want Jeremy to be a healthy child, especially now that I've actually met him.  God has to hear our prayers!

              We both began to watch our baby closely as he lay sleeping.  Was he doing any abnormal twitching?  Why did he have two cowlicks on his head?  Was not this the same pattern that Kari and Ryan both had?  Was this a genetic indication that he was following their same course?  Our restlessness invaded the joy that had filled us the evening before.

              A stack of mail lay on the bedside table and Ron reached over and opened the top one.  He pulled out a homemade card, designed and decorated with various baby items and colors.  It was from a young girl in our church.  Ron read it silently and then handed it to me as tears filled his eyes.  She had written:  "Dear Mrs. Denlinger, Congratulations on your new baby!  He is so lucky to live in a beautiful family like yours.  I hope he's healthy and I'll be praying for him.  But I know that even if he isn't healthy, the Lord will give you the strength and grace to handle him.  Love, Patrice."

              The precious message reminded us of the hope we had always relied on in the past.  The innocence of this nine-year-old girl confronted us with the fact that our doubts and fears were causing us to take our eyes off Jesus – the One who supplied our only hope.

              As Ron drove home from the hospital later in the afternoon, God impressed on his heart a scripture passage he had been studying over the past few days.  It was the story of John the Baptist who had given his life passionately to prepare people for the ministry of Jesus Christ here on earth.  While sitting in a prison cell waiting for his execution, John began to experience great doubt of whether this Jesus was indeed the Son of God.  From his dungeon of doubt, he sent a message to Jesus requesting more assurance.  How could a great prophet like John the Baptist ever question that God had called him to do the work that he had done?  He had, after all, baptized God's Son!  The answer was because he was human just like us.

              Jesus' response to this fearful, doubting man comforted Ron.  Jesus did not rebuke John or ignore him.  He did not give a long lecture about how awful it was for John to doubt Him.  Instead He began to praise John for being the greatest prophet that ever lived.  Jesus then sent a message back to John, informing him of all the miracles He was performing and reassuring him that his life work was not in vain, but was now fully complete.

              How we needed to be reminded in our time of extreme doubt that God was not condemning us.  Instead He reminded us of the strength and guidance He had granted to us in the past.  Now He wanted us to trust Him for our little boy's future.  We had a significant foundation for taking the step of faith we did when trying to conceive him.  It was not a blind leap into the dark, but a step that required greater vision than actual sight.  God was increasing our ability to see beyond what is visible to man, and causing us to trust in Him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

              We introduced Jeremy to his siblings when we arrived home from the hospital.  As Ron, Jeremy and I pulled in the driveway, the school van drove in behind us.  I jumped out to greet my big kids being lowered off the wheelchair lift and together our family entered our home.  We celebrated the homecoming of Jeremy by taking videos of our three children.  Nothing could bring me greater joy – God had brought us together and I was complete.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ron's Reflections...

              As I think of our stepping out in faith and allowing God to give us a third child if he would choose to do so, a saying comes to mind:  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”  That isn’t a phrase found in Scripture, but the idea comes through in several places.

              Jesus tells the story of a man who went on a long journey and as he did so entrusted his money to three servants.  The first two put their money to work and doubled it.  The man commended them highly for it.  The third servant buried the money in the ground where it would be safe and gave it back to the master upon his return.  The man scolded that servant, saying that he should have at least left it with the bankers so that it could have gained some interest.

              Jesus seems to be saying that risk-taking investments are not just a good idea – they are essential to living a life pleasing to him.  There is something very wrong with playing it safe all the time.  To do so would communicate that we can’t trust God to do significant things with our lives; that the gifts he has given us aren’t worth growing.

              When our little family moved to Connecticut, it was scary venture for us.  When we followed the call to Red Hill – that was an even bigger risk.  And bringing a third child into the world with the genes we had to work with – that seemed like a giant step.  But God blessed us richly every time.  How poor we would be if we hadn’t made those investments! 

A successful family takes risks.

Previous Chapter          Chapter Nineteen          Next Chapter

Prologue   1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  Updates  Appendix

Copyright (c) 2002 by Ron and Joan Denlinger