Little Anastasha, whose life we’ve been following for the last 13 weeks, is now about 221 days old, despite her terminal diagnosis of anencephaly. She continues to grow and prosper in her mom’s womb, and she continues to bless her parents, her siblings, her family, and all of who are able to follow her journey and pray for she and her family. Here’s the latest update from her daddy, family physician Craig DeLisi”
Here’s a quick snippet from a conversation in our house the other day that took me by surprise:
Ariana (11 years old, who is helping potty train her soon to be 3 year old brother, Cale) – “Cale, don’t go tee-tee on Elmo (on his big boy underwear). Do you know what happens if you go tee-tee on Elmo?”
Cale – “He tell Big Bird?” (which is funny since he’s seen maybe 3 episodes of Sesame Street in his entire life)
Ariana – “Right. Then what happens?”
Cale – “Big Bird kill me!.”
So our 3 year old is being potty trained in fear of being pecked to death by a 7-foot tall, yellow bird. What can I say, we get desperate after 6 months of trying.
We got back last week from our vacation to Alabama and Florida. Thank you so much for those who prayed for us. We had a wonderful, peaceful, and dare I say, relaxing time visiting with dear friends. The beach, as usual, was gorgeous and empty We had ZERO issues with the pregnancy while we were gone. And I got to take my “baby” beach pictures like I have with all of our kids outside the womb.
Coming back home has been difficult in some ways for us. Tonya is now 33 weeks pregnant. If Anastasha follows the same pattern as her other siblings, we anticipate that she’ll be born in the next 3 to 4 weeks.
The reality is setting in that the end of the pregnancy is upon us and we’ll soon get to meet our little girl.
As you’d probably expect, it is a completely different feeling than we’ve had at the end of all the other pregnancies. It has some of the excitement and anticipation of finally getting to hold and kiss the daughter we love. But primarily, there is heartache and deep sadness … and some fear.
Not fear in what will come per se, but fear in how we will respond and stand up under the pain of watching and walking through our daughter’s probable death.
We have nothing in our life experience to compare that kind of pain to. I wish that we weren’t afraid, but we are somewhat. We want to respond faithfully like Job, who in his moment of greatest pain, “fell to the ground in worship and said: ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.’” (Job 1:21).
Please pray with us that the Lord would turn our sorrow into joy and turn our “mourning into dancing” (Psalm 30:11). And also pray that Jesus’ “perfect love” would “drive out fear” in us (1 John 4:18).
We are tired, both physically and even moreso emotionally. It feels like we’ve been running a marathon, at times at a sprinter’s pace.
I’ve been told (will never personally experience) that the last few miles of a marathon are the hardest. When there seems to be nothing left in the tank, the runner makes the final push to the end.
That’s exactly how we feel. Except that it feels like the final few miles of this marathon are up a steep mountain.
We know the summit of our pain and struggle is ahead of us. And we aren’t anxious to run there, other than for the fact that we know that is when we can begin our descent.
Please pray for our stamina, both physically and emotionally.
Let me end with something that happened on our vacation.
Our first day at Panama City Beach, the surf was VERY rough. Even for this East Coast guy, the waves were impressive. The kids couldn’t wait and got in the water before the adults did.
We gave our “non-swimmers” life jackets to wear, but did not to the other kids. Shortly after getting in the water, Corban, who is 5, drifted off a bit by himself away from the others.
Tonya and I were talking on the shore when she noticed that he was out a bit too deep. I could see that he was panicking a bit, so I ran towards him. At this point he was about 40 yards away from me, and it took me probaly 15-20 seconds to run/swim to him
By the time I reached him, he was bobbing up and down in water well above his head (about up to my chin).
I grabbed hold of him and began to make my way back to the shore, only then realizing how strong the undertow was. I’ve been in the ocean hundreds of times in my life, and I don’t ever remember being in an undertow this strong.
I started back with him and for about 30 seconds really thought I would not be able to get us both to shore. About that same time, Niyah and Amalyah drifted out to me since they were coming to see what was wrong with Corban. Then THEY got caught in the undertow.
I managed to get enough footing to get the three of them out of there and back to shore.
By the time it was over I was exhausted and emotionally shook up.
The whole thing probably lasted a total of 3 or 4 minutes but it seemed like half an hour. It was a scary time for all of us.
I really believe that if Tonya had noticed Corban even 30 seconds later than she did, I would not have been able to get him and he would have drowned.
That night I was praying and journaling and thanking the Father for His great mercy. For me it was a great tangible lesson that God is sovereign over life and death. He holds both in His Hands.
He could have just as easily taken Corban from us that day, but He didn’t. He could just as easily NOT take Anastasha from us in a few weeks, but He probably will. And in both situations He is perfectly just AND perfectly GOOD.
He is a merciful, loving God who’s way are above our ways. And we trust Him with everything we are.
Blessings to you all.
Craig and Tonya
You can read Craig’s entire series here:
Here’s the entire series of amazing stories: