A Daddy's Letter to his baby girl: Pearl Joy Brown

This was posted on I Am Pro-Life's facebook page. 

I thought it was so precious and a wonderful reminder. 

Pearl Joy Brown is the third child of Ruth and Eric Brown. At their 20-week prenatal appointment, Pearl was diagnosed with alobar holoprosencephaly (HPE), a neural disease with low chances of survival.

Despite a grim prognosis and a doctor’s encouragement to induce labor and end the pregnancy, the Browns opted to embrace life and hope and carry Baby Pearl to term.

Here is Eric’s letter to Pearl. Won’t you join us in praying for this sweet family? Read the blog for Pearl at http://pearljoybrown.wordpress.com/

Sweet Pearl, I’ll never forget that December evening I found out you were coming. I was in Indiana, helping the David Crowder Band finish up the last of their shows, and your mother called to let me know she was pregnant. I remember running backstage to tell the guys, though they were literally walking on stage when I shouted it to them. The confusion on their faces spoke volumes. Why couldn’t I wait until we were on the bus that night to share the news? They were kind of in the middle of something! Seems we were both a little over-enthused at the news of your conception! It makes sense now.

I’ll spare you all of the medical details of what happened while you were inside your mother’s belly, as I can imagine you’re tired of hearing about that. We spent several months preparing to meet you and say goodbye all in the same breath.

To be honest, we didn’t even buy any of the normal baby things for you, though we did already fill out the paperwork with the funeral home so all that had to be filled in was the dates and times. We spent more time preparing ourselves for what it was going to feel like when the funeral home came to pick you up at the hospital than we did wondering how on earth we would care for you…perhaps a tactical error on our part. We’re figuring it out though. Thanks for being patient.

And then on July 26th, we were given the news that you needed to be born immediately, as things were looking a bit rough for you in Mommie’s belly. The conversation that day that we had with your brother and sister was one of the hardest conversations we’ve ever had. I remember going to Suzannah’s house and sitting with them both to tell them that the doctors didn’t expect you to come home with us.

Your brother was perplexed and asked if you were so sick that you would probably die. I told him the truth and he melted. You are so loved by your siblings, and have been since long before you were born. Even now, they will often come put their cheek next to your mouth to see if you are breathing, though they try very hard to not give you any germs. I hope that you can somehow feel that love.

We were told that if you made it through delivery, the moment of your birth would be your strongest and that as your systems tried to start up and your brain wouldn’t tell them how to function, your body would start shutting down. And then the milestones started stacking up. You made it through birth, so we cut the cord. Your heart had a little trouble at first, so your little chest got a massage. And then you were breathing, so we took pictures, and you were still going. So…off to the NICU!

That was by far the most amazing night of my life. We watched the hours stack up and you thrived. Each hour was a miracle and still is. Hours turned into days and people from all over were driving and flying in to meet you. Doctors would come to see you, and they would close the door and start crying. Family and friends did the same thing. Even employees from other parts of the hospital would come in, close the door, and cry by just meeting you. So many of these people had prayed for you for weeks and weeks and there you were. Alive. Engaging. Beautiful… a miracle, in its most certain form.

On September 14, you turned 7 weeks old. I don’t know if you know this or not, but every Friday someone brings cupcakes over to our little house and we celebrate your life and we celebrate the Giver of that life. One day, you will meet Him, and much of this will make sense to you. Sweet girl, you have turned our world, and arguably the world of our many others, upside down in the most beautiful way.

You have taught us all what it means to be carried through life. You have taught me that self-reliance is a lie, and you have taught me clearly how dependent I am. Thank God it’s not up to me. I never would have chosen this life for either of us, but it’s so much better than anything we would have chosen for ourselves. Thank you, baby girl. You are loved more than you will ever know here, and more importantly you are shining brightly the Light of the world…to the world. I am so proud of you! Love, Your Daddy