</p><p> <em>Jessica Weatherford lies small and helpless on the operating table, staring at a blue surgical sheet hanging inches from her face.</em></p><p><em>It blocks her view of the Caesarean operation on the other side, as a doctor delicately reaches for her baby.</em></p><p><em>A baby Jessica&#8217;s been waiting for. </em></p><p><em>A baby she prays will live long enough to hold in her arms.</em></p><p>The physician and his assistant talk quietly as they operate. But Jessica, 29, feels nothing, hears nothing except the banter from her husband, Dave, who is talking because he has to do something.</p><p>&#8220;This is a lot different from last time, isn&#8217;t it, Jess? You were out for the other one. &#8230; And gosh, you can see so much this time.&#8221;</p><p>She nearly laughs. Dave, joking with her, just as he always has, just when she needs it the most. Dave, dressed like a surgeon, blue scrubs tight, a white surgical mask blotting out his mustache and goatee. All she can recognize are his brown eyes, the ones that turn up at the corners when he smiles.</p><p>Nearly two years earlier, she&#8217;d gone through an emergency Caesarean, deep anesthesia and deeper anxiety about the outcome. But it brought forth their baby girl, Victoria &#8220;Tori&#8221; Ann, now nearly 2.</p><p>This time, Jessica is awake, the C-section planned, but there is no question about this outcome. Already, planning has begun for their baby&#8217;s funeral.</p><p>Their baby boy will not endure beyond Jessica&#8217;s womb. Zeke, they have named him, short for Ezekiel, meaning God is my strength. Jessica wanted to name him soon after the diagnosis. She wanted him to be as real to the world as he already was to her.</p><p>Dave, 35, is her best friend. He has helped carry her grief during this months-long journey. He has shared her laughter, prayers, tears. This has been his walk, too.</p><p>The doctor tugs hard and between his hands a tiny head appears, covered in wet curls.</p><p>Jessica feels her husband&#8217;s hand gripping hers. He&#8217;s as scared as she is.</p><p>The operating room is eerily quiet as everyone looks to Zeke.</p><p>Jessica has prayed that she will see beauty instead of her son&#8217;s deformities. She&#8217;s prayed that the sadness she knows is coming won&#8217;t rip her heart beyond repair. She&#8217;s prayed too that maybe God will work a miracle, make Zeke whole and perfect.</p><p>But after four months of medical tests, she&#8217;s not blinded to reality.</p><p>She knows that God has already performed one miracle: Zeke is alive.</p><p><strong><span class="subhead">The choice</span></strong></p><p>Psalm 139, 13-14:<em> &#8220;For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother&#8217;s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.&#8221;</em></p><p>The worst day was Nov. 6.</p><p>Jessica remembers her excitement when she finally saw an image of the 20-week fetus inside her. She remembers staring at Dave&#8217;s face as the sonogram technician, a young woman, smiled when she told them they were having a boy.</p><p>A boy!</p><p>But the sonogram technician grew quiet as she swirled the wand this way and that on Jessica&#8217;s belly. She remembers that the technician just &#8230; kept &#8230; looking.</p><p>Jessica and Dave were ushered into a waiting room where they spent nearly an hour. When they finally saw the doctor, his face wore the news.</p><p>I&#8217;m sorry, he said. There are abnormalities with your baby&#8217;s brain and abdomen. Problems too great for medical science to fix.</p><p>Jessica felt her throat close. Felt the sting of tears, the shudder of a broken heart. In the blink of a routine appointment, their world spun from giddy joy to gut-wrenching sorrow.