There are moments that split time in two.
Before, and after.
The diagnosis is one of them.
Maybe it came in a hospital room with fluorescent lights that felt too bright. Maybe it came over the phone while you were standing in your kitchen, gripping the counter. Maybe it came in the NICU, surrounded by beeping monitors and nurses who spoke gently but couldn't promise you what you needed to hear.
However it came, it changed everything.
And now you are here. In the after.
The Weight of the Unknown
You didn't know your heart could hold this much fear and this much love at the same time.
You didn't know you could pray without words, that your whole body could become a prayer.
You didn't know how heavy hope could feel when it's all you have left to carry.
But here is what else you didn't know:
You are not alone in this.
Not in the waiting rooms. Not in the sleepless nights. Not in the questions that have no answers yet.
God is with you here.
Not standing at a distance, waiting for you to be strong enough to reach Him.
But close. Present. Holding what you cannot hold.
He Knows Your Child by Name
In Isaiah 49:16, God says this:
"See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."
Engraved. Not written in pencil. Not noted and filed away.
Engraved.
Permanent. Intimate. Unmovable.
Your child's name is written on the hands of God. Every detail of their story, every breath, every heartbeat, He knows it. He holds it.
The diagnosis does not change that.
The uncertainty does not erase it.
Your child is seen. Known. Loved. Held.
And so are you.
Permission to Feel It All
You do not have to be strong right now.
You do not have to have faith that feels big or certain or unshakable.
You are allowed to be afraid.
You are allowed to cry in the shower so no one hears.
You are allowed to feel angry, confused, exhausted, numb.
God is not afraid of your honesty.
He does not need you to perform peace you do not feel.
He meets you here. In the mess. In the fear. In the not-knowing.
And He does not let go.
What You Can Do When You Don't Know What to Do
You can take the next breath.
You can show up for the next appointment.
You can hold your baby and let that be enough.
You can ask for help. You can let people bring you meals, watch your other kids, sit with you in silence.
You can pray, even if all you can say is "Help."
That is enough.
You are enough.
And God is working in ways you cannot see yet.
He Is Building Something
You may not understand it now.
You may never understand it fully on this side of heaven.
But God is not surprised by this diagnosis. He has not abandoned the plan. He has not looked away.
He is still good.
He is still faithful.
He is still writing a story that will one day make sense, even if today it only feels like loss.
And in the meantime, He is holding you.
He is holding your child.
He is holding every fear, every question, every tomorrow you cannot control.
You Are Not Alone
If you are reading this in a hospital room, know this: you are seen.
If you are reading this at 2 a.m. because you cannot sleep, know this: you are not forgotten.
If you are reading this and barely holding on, know this: you do not have to hold on alone.
God is with you.
And He will carry what you cannot.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18)
For the mama in the NICU. For the mama waiting on test results. For the mama whose world just shifted.
You are held.