Tapestry of Grace

After my husband and I married, our family grew rapidly. Our firstborn, Mark, joined us in January 1986. Twenty-one months later, Jamie and Joey, fraternal twins, joined him to make a terrific trio. Our lives were full. Yet we still hoped to have more children.

Nine years and three miscarriages later, our prayers were answered. We could hardly contain our excitement as the initial ultrasound revealed twins. Within three weeks, a second ultrasound revealed triplets. Then at 14 weeks, the technician noted that the third sac contained two babies. We were having quads!

As we left the office after the last ultrasound, the doctor handed my husband a card. Rob slid it into his pocket, not showing it to me until we were in the car on the way home. It read: “Dr. Amos, High Risk Specialist, specializing in selective reduction.”

A chill ran down my spine. For miles we sat speechless. I finally broke the silence and turned toward my husband. “You wouldn’t want to do this. Would you?”

“No,” he replied with certainty. “I wouldn’t.”

Several days later my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to know how the “reduction procedure” was handled. I called the number on the card and explained that I was pregnant with quads. “Two are identical, and two are fraternal,” I told the nurse.

Sounding as if she were sorting produce in a grocery bin, she reported, “We’ll dispose of the identical ones. They present the highest risk. The tissue will be absorbed, and you’ll carry the fraternal ones to term.”

Immediately a lump formed in my throat. Wanting to hear no more, I ended the conversation and called Rob at work. “Can you believe it?” I cried. “She talked about my babies as if they weren’t people!” I continued to rant as Rob tried to calm me down.

“Ali,” he said, “why did you even call her? Honey, we would never reduce the gift that God has given us.”

Three months later our quads were born. At 12 weeks premature, they were definitely small. Each baby was resuscitated at birth and placed on a ventilator in neonatal intensive care. We weren’t allowed to touch or hold them. Prayers of family, friends and hospital staff carried us through the next year. As I look back on those stress-filled weeks and months, I see four miracles weaving themselves into one tapestry of grace.

In God’s image Samantha, the only girl, experienced retinopathy when she was 4 weeks old. Laser surgery was recommended, and as my husband and I waited, the nurses came out to pray with us. After four hours of surgery, my heart sank as the doctor gave us the news, “Samantha may not have vision.”

Yet today, Samantha is a busy preschooler with glasses. She has normal vision in her left eye, but she is legally blind in her right eye. She is a dainty girl who loves to sing and dance. When she grows up she wants to wear makeup and be a mommy. She even says she wants five, six or seven children! We thank God for the wonderful gift of sight for her. Adam is our other fraternal quad. He experienced a brain hemorrhage three days after birth; he has brain damage, hydrocephalus and cerebral palsy. At one year, he underwent surgery to receive a shunt.

Today, he uses a wheelchair and a walker for mobility. He continues to experience epileptic seizures and some short-term memory issues. Adam is our singer and resident joke teller. He brings joy and laughter into our home. When Adam grows up he wants to be a firefighter — from his wheelchair. Our world needs more people like Adam who dream big dreams.

Mike is one of our identical twin quads. He weighed only 1 pound, 13 ounces at birth. Yet he did the best of the four in intensive care. Today, he’s a tiny yet spunky guy who loves Captain Hook. One might think that Mike is quiet and innocent. Yet we know he has big plans for some mischievous fun!

Danny is our other identical twin. He remained on a ventilator for nine weeks and was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. The doctors told us they would need to surgically correct the defect if we wanted Danny to live, but they warned us that there was only a 50 percent chance he would survive the procedure because he was so small. My husband and I authorized the surgery. Together with our oldest son, Mark, we followed Danny to the doors of the operating room. The doctor met us and prayed with us. Then I gently kissed my baby’s cheek. Four hours later, the doctor joined us in the waiting room. We took one look at his exhausted face and feared the worst. He sat down beside me and put his hand on my knee.

“Well,” he said as a smile crossed his face, “do you want the good news or the good news? Danny is doing fine. I didn’t tell you this before the surgery, but Danny is the smallest baby on record in the United States to have this operation.”

Today, Danny has a heart murmur, but there are no restrictions on his physical activities. He is our gentle, compassionate child who loves to snuggle. For now, Danny wants to learn to play tennis, but his future goal is to become an astronaut.

A few days ago, the quads were playing the “running game,” which included Adam being carried by Mark. My husband and I sat together on the sofa, watching the five of them play. We thought back to the day the quads were born, and we marveled how God had taken perfect care of them.

Ali Wolf and her family live in California. Her story is included in the book A Special Kind of Love: For Those Who Love Children with Special Needs.