Georgie’s Army

One day, I am going to be able to pull out a book and hand it to my beloved daughter and show her the prayers of a worldwide army of warriors who came behind her and raised her towards Heaven, pleading on her behalf. I will show her names of people her mama didn’t know existed before she was born. She’ll see places represented that we’ll have to go and get an atlas to figure out where they are. There will be names of people she hugs hello to weekly, and family, both officially and unofficially related. We’ll read names together of faceless people we’ll neither of us meet on Planet Earth but will bump into in Heaven. To everyone who has, is and will pray for our plucky Georgina – thank you! There is absolutely no doubt at all in our minds that your prayers have carried us and our daughter through the hardest days we have ever yet had to encounter.

One day my beautiful girl is probably going to ask me why a Good God didn’t heal her and I am going to have to hug her tight and tell her I don’t know. I will tell her of the diagnosis that struck fear into her daddy’s and my heart that we may not bring her home from hospital or even meet her alive. That every single day we have with her, every single hug, every single strop, every single dirty nappy, was something we weren’t sure we’d get to experience and how Heaven rang with loud praises when we were able to tell her army that she was born with a healthy weight (she’ll probably get cross when I coo over how chunky she was) and whilst her heart was still broken, it could be mended by a team of incredibly talented people. I won’t lie to her and pretend I understand why God didn’t keep miraculously healing her and it may be I never find out and that is something He is keeping for her. (I have to remind myself that He has a story for her and she needs to find it out for herself.) But I can tell her how many people danced alongside her daddy and I when we heard they could fix her heart, when she kept gaining weight, when we were able to share photos of her happily sleeping in her incubator without needing help to breathe oxygen. How her birth and finding out how well she was doing had a stream of people worldwide celebrating and praising God. I will tell her of people whose faith was strengthened in seeing God working in her life, of the atmosphere of praise and thanksgiving that surrounded the first week of her life.

To Georgie’s Army, we are blown away by your love and faithfulness for our daughter and ourselves. Never before have I felt the Church knitted together so strongly as family. I cannot wait to meet each and every one of you in Heaven and hug you and thank you.

I don’t think that life with Georgie will ever be an easy faith walk. There are good things I can see now that have come from this but it is still not a “good” situation. I love my daughter and it eats me up that she needs more surgeries to keep her alive. I wish I could fix her heart, I wish I could take her future pain on myself, I wish I wasn’t faced constantly with wounds and appointments reminding me her heart is still very broken. I think Georgie will continue to inspire and challenge the church and I can only pray as her mother that she will be given the faith and grace she needs.

We love you, faithful members of Georgie’s Army. If you ever feel helpless and like “all you can do is pray” – remember that our little girl is with us because of prayer. Remember that she was born in such a good place because of people praying for her. There is no “just prayer” on this planet. Satan got punched, kicked and beaten to the curb as God took your prayers and turned what Satan had fully intended for evil into good. I pray you will be encouraged in realising the power of His army uniting on their knees. I am reminded of a song line that says: I can stand tall, on my knees.

We do have one more request of you all: so that Georgie, as well as ourselves, can look back and be comforted and awed by the knowledge of how the Church family united in praying for her, we wondered if people would be willing to send their name (just a first name is fine) and town/country to this email address: and we’ll include them in a book with the prayers and messages people have sent.

I’ll end with two simple words: thank you.



We’re all settling well into home life and are being spoilt rotten with meals, gifts and love being showered on us. It is so nice being home as a family of three and we are even coping without our team of nurses!



The Zipper Club

Sheer excitement.




“Are we going to be good parents????” asked about 1 million times. A day.

Finding out you’re expecting your first child is incredible. Finding out that your first child is going to have to be a little warrior is a little less normal. Finding out that your child will be joining ‘The Zipper Club’* is petrifying.

I don’t know how much I’ll be on here over the next few months. It may be I find release in writing about it, in seeing how God is still weaving His masterpiece as I watch in confusion. It may be that writing something down is too much. I don’t know so I just thought I should warn you.

I have already written a few pieces but they’re raw, very raw, and I’m not sure how much honesty the internet needs about this. I am learning faith and pain can walk hand in hand. I’m learning it’s possible to think you’re doing ok, you really are, only for a baby grow to cause absolute sob fest. I’m learning all the lessons I thought I’d learnt about trust through the CFS were the warm up for this and I don’t feel ready. I’ve learnt you can feel peace and I’ve learnt you can choose to step outside that peace. I’ve learnt there are a lot of hurting people in this broken world and sometimes having everything ‘not ok’ in our lives gives us a doorway into theirs. I’ve learnt a mother’s love for her unborn baby is fierce. I’ve learnt the love a daddy has for his little baby can cause this mummy to tear up.

I’ve learnt.

I’m learning.

I will learn.

How much of that is internet-worthy, I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out!!

*An exclusive group of people who have gone through open heart surgery leaving them with a scar like a zipper on their chest. (Source: Urban Dictionary)