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T he sonographer frowned, peering at the screen.

Sarah’s heart clenched. “Is something wrong?”

“Excuse me for a moment. I need to get my supervisor in.”

Sarah glanced at Ange, who reached out a hand. Sarah clutched it.

“It’s okay,” Ange soothed. “Whatever is happening, God is still here with us.”

Sarah nodded, as a savage longing rose for her husband to be here too.

Oh, she wished she was a better wife. Wished she hadn’t let offense creep in and crowbar them apart.

Suddenly all her petty behavior was held up to the light.

Her heart might be caked with anger and frustration, yet this man, this man, kept loving her through her imperfections.

Dan’s love was like a beam of warmth that tugged her from this prison of disappointments and scars.

She didn’t deserve him. Her eyes welled.

A moment later, their sonographer returned along with another man. They murmured to each other, then asked Ange to leave. “We need to speak to Mrs. Walton alone.”

“What?” This wasn’t good news. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be right outside, praying,” Ange assured.

Lord God. Help. Sarah nodded, her fingers clasping her belly.

The older man sighed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Walton, but there seems to be some irregularities with what we’re seeing on the scan.”

“What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat. “The scans suggest that there is a problem with the ventricle of the left chamber, which hasn’t developed properly.”

Her own heart stabbed. Lord?

“And—”

There was more?

“—there is some issue with the spinal cord, which suggests…”

He went on to use words like spina bifida and hydrocephalus, just like Dr. McKinnon had warned. No, no, no, her heart screamed.

“…why we want to send you to the city’s children’s hospital pediatric unit where their specialized equipment will give a clearer indication.”

They had to have this wrong. Had to.

“And we want you to schedule it soon. Like tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she repeated, mind awhirl.

“Then you will know what your best option is.”

Her heart wrenched. Surely, they didn’t mean to imply—?

“It’s probably best you have your husband with you.”

“He… he’s away.”

“He should probably return for this.”

Her hands were shaking, her legs like jelly, when Ange finally was re-admitted, and they exited. “Sar?”

Sarah managed to share the most pertinent truths, which saw Ange clasp her in a hug.

“Don’t fear the worst. We trust God, remember?”

“They want me to go tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“They said…” She gulped. “They said it’s better to know the result sooner, as it gives more options.”

Ange gasped. “Oh, Sar.”

“Dan…”

“I’ll call him now.” Ange dug out her phone.

She was a ghost. The sense of unreality that had set in yesterday had tripled when they saw the specialist, a head professor of prenatal and pediatric medicine, who had called Dr. McKinnon in.

If it wasn’t for Dan’s warm hand grounding her, she might fly away, never to return, as the professor’s shocking words revolved around her brain.

The left side of the heart wasn’t growing.

There were definite signs of spinal issues.

Hydrocephalus. One of these neural tube defects might indicate a virus, but the fact the ‘fetus’ had all three simultaneously suggested a genetic issue, and therefore the ‘fetus’ was unlikely to survive.

“Just as I expected,” Dr. McKinnon said.

“If it survives, it’s a matter of hours, not days. ”

Delivered in an unemotional manner with no empathy. No sympathy. No sense that their worlds were falling apart.

“You’ve only got two weeks, then it’s a different matter.”

Dan cleared his throat. “Two weeks?”

“To terminate the pregnancy,” Dr. McKinnon replied, as if it was obvious that was what should be done. “After twenty weeks it becomes more complicated, and there are government forms and death certificates and the like.”

Dan’s grip tightened. “Are you saying that you expect our baby to die?”

“The fetus,” Dr. McKinnon said, as if correcting them, “is not viable, nor compatible with a healthy life outcome. So yes.”

“No,” Sarah murmured. “No, I don’t believe it.”

“I know this is a shock, even though I’ve tried to prepare you for this. We’ve talked about chromosome incompatibility many times before.”

Oh, they certainly had.

“I can see you two need a minute.” The professor stood.

At least someone had eyes in their head.

“I’ll be back in a moment, and we can discuss when to schedule the appointment.”

“For the abortion?” Sarah whispered.

“For the termination, yes.”

Sarah could barely breathe. She turned to Dan who wore his own look of shock. “Dan.” Her voice, her heart, was broken.

Then she collapsed in his arms.

* * *

Never had he ever been so glad to see John and Ange.

As soon as they entered the apartment John stood and opened his arms. They huddled together, hugging, crying.

But this time Dan didn’t feel the need to hold back his tears like he had in the specialist’s office, trying to keep it together while his wife fell apart.

He had no strength, barely any words, except for a stubborn sense that the doctors were wrong, and that their child who had lived this long could be born.

Which meant they’d refused the termination, much to Dr. McKinnon’s obvious dismay.

“You’re setting yourself up for a very long and difficult journey, with likely heartbreak,” he’d warned.

Difficult was something they were used to. Heartbreak was nothing new.

John took his time hugging Dan, and it was like in that moment that the man’s strength imparted Dan with more strength, too. “God’s got you in the palm of His hand,” John murmured. “This hasn’t taken Him by surprise.”

Rest in Me .

Dan’s throat clamped. Help me trust You, Father .

“Dr. McKinnon always warned us, but we… we didn’t believe him,” Sarah murmured. “But we couldn’t agree to terminating.”

“It doesn’t matter what health challenges our baby has, we’re going to trust God through it all.

” Dan glanced at Sarah’s red-rimmed eyes, knowing his words held a challenge similar to a song she’d once written.

It was one thing to sing it when things were going well, another when their world had imploded.

Sarah nodded, reached for his hand, and in that moment, they were Team Walton again. Standing against the naysayers. Standing for what God could do.

“Our God can do anything,” Ange said, her voice thick with tears. “You wrote that Sarah, and it’s true. So stand firm on the truth of God.”

“I feel like we need to pray,” John said.

“I know this feels devastating right now, but this is our God who can do the impossible, can make the lame walk, the dead come back to life. He is here with us now, here in the midst of this storm. We can trust Him.” John moved Dan’s hand to Sarah’s stomach.

“God gives the barren woman children, like Hannah, like Sarah. This is who our God is. Strong, Almighty, which means all mighty, and nothing is impossible for Him.”

“Amen,” Ange and Dan echoed.

John continued to pray, and some of the anguish faded, Dan’s emotions easing back from the sharp pointy edges of pain. As they each took turns in praying, a sense of peace stole into the room. God was here, His presence tangible.

By the time John finished, Dan was wilting, and Sarah was clearly exhausted.

“You two need to rest,” Ange said kindly. “John and I are staying with his parents here in the city. We can stay here if you like, but understand if you want time to yourself.”

They needed time to themselves. Dan glanced at Sarah. “I’m so tired, I can’t even think.”

Ange hugged her, glanced at Dan, must’ve caught his wish to be alone with Sarah as she then nodded. “You both need some sleep. There’s a casserole in the fridge.”

Sarah groaned. “Mum, Dad—”

“I can contact them if you like,” Ange offered.

“Please.”

John gripped Dan’s shoulder. “I know you have praying friends. Ask them to pray.”

“Yeah.” He would. But first he and Sarah needed time to process.

“If it’s alright with you, I’ll ask our friends at Muskoka Shores to pray, too.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

Two more strong hugs later, and they were alone again. But not quite alone. For as John and Ange had reminded them, God was there in the midst. They could—would—trust Him. And rest in Him.

* * *

Prayer requests were sent around the world. Responses quickly flooded in, with everyone from Tisha and the Heartsong crew to Dan’s online Bible study teammates expressing love, support, prayers, offers of help, and whatever they could do.

Sarah’s parents had offered to fly over immediately. She’d told them no. Not until the next scan’s results anyway.

They were due to have another scan in two weeks, then four weeks after that.

“Long enough for God to do a miracle, anyway,” Jackie said.

In addition to the prayers came a few more startling words too.

Some fans of Sarah’s sent messages saying they’d seen visions of Dan and Sarah’s daughter getting married.

During one video call, Bek said she’d had a dream where God took their baby’s heart and closed His hand around it, then when He opened His hand, the baby’s heart was healed.

Others, like Ange, shared Bible verses, like the words given to Moses, who commanded the Israelites trapped between the Egyptians and the Red Sea to fear not, but stand still and see the salvation of the Lord. “For the Lord shall fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.”

And this verse, as much as the others, provided a shield of comfort, of supernatural peace, as their friends and faith-filled family members stood with them, holding up their hands like Aaron and Hur held up Moses’s weary arms, while the battle raged in front of them.

Peace that reminded them that God was here. And whatever the next scan said, God could be trusted with it all.

A slight jolt woke Sarah. What? The morning’s sounds crept to her ears. She rolled to the side, saw Dan with his eyes closed. Poor man was exhausted.

The fluttering feeling came again. She inhaled sharply.

“Sar?” he murmured sleepily.

“I just felt a funny sensation.”

“A good one or a bad one?” He blinked, squinting at her. “Do we need to go to the doctor?”

“No.” She grasped his hand, placed it on her stomach, as another tiny kick came. “Feel that? That’s your little son or daughter wanting to say hello.”

“Wow.” His face softened. “Hello little one.” He spent the next half hour touching and talking to her tummy while hoping for more kicks. “Thank you, God, for this precious life. Please protect this little one, and my beautiful wife. Amen.”

“Amen,” Sarah whispered.

“Hmm.”

Sarah gripped Dan’s hand. She’d been here before. The fetal sonographer’s frown wasn’t encouraging. Today’s fetal echocardiogram was to check on the heart issue, whether it was growing or— No, God, I’m going to trust You.

He peered at the screen, glanced at them, then murmured about getting his supervisor.

“It’s okay,” Dan murmured.

She nodded. A supernatural peace flooded her soul, like someone somewhere had just prayed for her.

The sonographer returned, accompanied by a gray-permed woman, who greeted them then looked at the screen. They conferred with each other, then looked at the previous results.

“What’s happened?” Sarah asked.

“This echo seems to be suggesting there’s no issue.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, this previous scan suggested there was a problem in the valves on the left side of the heart, but today’s scan shows no sign of that.”

Sarah’s heart thudded. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t understand this.”

Sarah squeezed Dan’s hand, as hope flickered.

But when they returned to Dr. McKinnon he wasn’t encouraged. “It’s likely there was a problem with their machine,” he scoffed. “I want you to schedule another appointment.”

She clamped her lips. She didn’t want to.

“I know you might like to think going against medical advice is nice for your ‘beliefs’, but you need to prepare yourself. The chances of a live birth are next to nil.”

Why did that man’s words poison her seedling faith?

“I can’t stand that man,” she muttered when they exited the room.

“You want a second opinion?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay. Wait here.”

“Dan?” She watched as he marched back in, and from the closed door heard raised voices then silence. Two minutes later, Dan reappeared, an envelope in his hand.

“That was fast.”

“We got our referral.” He held the envelope higher.

“You mean we don’t need to see him again?”

“Let’s hope not.” Dan’s lips tweaked. “And after that encounter, I don’t think he wants to see us again either.”

“Oh, thank you.” She squeezed him—hugs were getting more squashy now—as thankfulness bloomed for this man who fought for her, for them, for their child.

How did other people manage when they didn’t have the finances to fight for a second opinion, and took whatever the medical professional said as gospel?

“God help all expectant parents.”