First…stay to the end for a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!
But first…this essay…
One of the things I’ve been realizing lately is that I don’t do spiritual work every day because it makes life easier, although I do think it does. I do it because I know life will eventually become difficult. It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when. The goal isn’t to avoid suffering or convince myself that nothing bad will ever happen. The goal is to become the kind of person who doesn’t have to fear suffering because I trust that, whatever comes, God will give me what I need to walk through it.
Week 20 of this pregnancy gave me another example of what I mean.
Kevin and I went in for our twenty-week anatomy scan. Along with checking all of the baby’s organs, brain, heart, limbs, and growth, we also met with a genetic counselor because my carrier screening had identified a very rare genetic mutation. Since I’m about 71% Ashkenazi Jewish, I carry one of the mutations that is seen more commonly in that population.
I should probably say here that, because people always ask, we chose to do the genetic testing not because we would have ended the pregnancy if something had been wrong. That isn’t consistent with our beliefs. We did it because we wanted to be prepared. If our daughter was going to face something difficult, we wanted to know so we could pray, learn, and prepare to care for her as well as possible.
The genetic counselor sat down and explained that there was still a small possibility that our daughter could have inherited the condition. She explained what they would be looking for on the ultrasound and that one of the more obvious findings would be differences in how her external genitalia developed, in other words, they would not look traditionally female.
Almost without missing a beat, Kevin looked at her and said, “That’s okay. People pay big money for that these days.”
She burst out laughing.
I burst out laughing.
The entire room laughed.
What struck me afterward wasn’t just that it was funny. It was that Kevin’s mind naturally went somewhere completely different than fear.
It wasn’t denial. It wasn’t pretending that serious things aren’t serious. If our daughter had had that condition, we would have grieved what needed grieving, learned everything we could, and loved her exactly the same. But in that moment, before fear had a chance to fill the room, Kevin’s instinct was peace, a divine sense of humor.
That’s what twenty-five years of spiritual work has done in him.
I’ve been intentionally doing this work for about five years now. Prayer. Forgiveness. Daily inventory. Looking at my fears instead of running from them. Asking God to show me where I’m wrong instead of asking Him to change everyone else. Learning to surrender control instead of trying to manufacture certainty.
I’ve changed dramatically.
But every once in a while I see Kevin respond to something and realize there are still deeper levels of freedom available.
As it turned out, our daughter did not have the genetic condition.
But during the anatomy scan they found something else.
Everything about her looked wonderful. Her heart, brain, kidneys, limbs, growth, and every other measurement looked exactly as they hoped. Then they found that she has what’s called a furcate umbilical cord insertion.
Normally, the umbilical cord stays together until it reaches the placenta. In a furcate insertion, the cord splits apart before it reaches the placenta, leaving some of the blood vessels outside the normal protective covering called Wharton’s jelly. Those exposed vessels are more vulnerable, which can increase the risk of complications later in pregnancy or during labor.
The good news is that she’s doing beautifully right now.
The plan is simply to monitor her very closely. I’ll have ultrasounds every four weeks to make sure she’s continuing to grow well and getting everything she needs. Because labor can put pressure on those exposed vessels, it’s also likely that she’ll be delivered a little early by planned C-section to minimize the risk to her.
When the doctor explained all of this, Kevin had already left the appointment, so I was processing it alone. And something surprised me. Five years ago, I know exactly what I would have done. I would have gone home and Googled for hours. I would have read every worst-case scenario. I would have mentally lived through tragedies that hadn’t happened. I would have tried to control something that, in reality, I had absolutely no control over.
Instead, my prayer was surprisingly simple.
“God, help me accept what I cannot change. Help me do the next right thing. Help me trust that this little girl belongs to You even more than she belongs to me.” Of course I did my research. Of course I asked questions. Of course I want to understand what’s happening. But I noticed that fear wasn’t driving the process anymore. That alone felt like a miracle.
Then, the next evening, Kevin took it one step further. We were talking about everything over dinner, and I admitted that the thing that made me the most nervous wasn’t having a C-section or delivering early. It wasn’t extra ultrasounds or more doctor’s appointments. I just didn’t want to lose our daughter.
He listened for a minute and then asked a question that honestly hadn’t even crossed my mind. “What if God designed it this way?” I looked at him.
He said, “What if this is actually the best way for her? What if coming early is exactly what she needs? What if this isn’t something that’s gone wrong? What if this is actually God’s design for her, and because He knows everything we don’t, this is the safest possible path?”
I had already reached the place where I was accepting that I couldn’t control it. He had gone one step beyond that. He wasn’t just surrendering to reality. He was considering the possibility that reality itself was good. That perspective stopped me in my tracks.
Because isn’t that exactly how I’ve experienced so many other parts of my life? The house we didn’t get that eventually led us to the one we love. The opportunities that disappeared before better ones showed up. Relationships that ended before I understood why. Disappointments that, years later, I thanked God for. I’ve seen this pattern over and over again.
God has been weaving together circumstances that I initially labeled as “bad,” only to discover later that they were actually protecting me, redirecting me, or preparing me for something better. And yet, whenever something new happens, my first instinct is still to think, “This is the exception.” Maybe this time it really is just bad. Maybe this time God isn’t working.
What spiritual work has done is shorten the distance between fear and trust. Five years ago, fear would have been my permanent address. Now it’s usually just a passing visitor. But watching Kevin this week reminded me that there is still another level, a place where your first instinct isn’t simply to surrender.
It’s to trust that maybe, even before I understand it, God is already doing something beautiful. I don’t know exactly how the rest of this pregnancy will unfold. I hope every ultrasound is reassuring. I hope our daughter continues to grow exactly as she should. I hope she arrives safely into this world. But regardless of how her story unfolds, this week reminded me why I keep doing the spiritual work.
Because the greatest gift isn’t that life gets easier. It’s that, little by little, my mind becomes more like Christ’s. And when difficult news comes, that changes everything.
If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Lisa Stanton, and I want to welcome you to my writing home AND if you made it this far, HERE IS THE TEA!!! You’re one of the first to know that the NEW re-titled and updated edition of my debut book IS available for pre-order starting TODAY!!
The Lies I Once Believe: Unlearning 52 Beliefs That Kept Me Anxious, Addicted, and Unwell is be available for pre-order beginning 9/1!!!
Available on: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and many more!
And what’s more…the story of that book is a spiritual lesson in itself. My original publisher went bankrupt. I never made a penny from any sales. I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to put it back out. But, God opened the right doors at the right time and now the book is going back into the world as the book it was always meant to be, with the title it’s meant to have, and the stories updated just as they were meant to be.
The book is about how I went from an agnostic scientist drinking herself to oblivion into someone willing to share a story about finding God and leaving so much of what she thought she knew behind.
God was weaving a new story together the whole time. And this time…I can say I have let go. Paid or unpaid, I just hope the new book gets into the hands it was meant to.
A bit about me: I write and teach about faith, recovery (not only from addiction, but also mental health, physical illness, the need for control…just about anything), and the process of unlearning the things that keep me from peace.
My publication is called The Unlearning Gazette, and my emails are simple: stories, reflections, and reminders that God hasn’t gone anywhere, even when life feels heavy or confusing.
So, welcome, or hello, it’s great to see you again!