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Throughout the day today I have thought back to what was happening at that particular time 2 years ago. Waking up feeling little Uriah have strange hiccups. I remember the contractions starting, the epidural, giving birth, and the silence when Uriah was delivered. Oh how I hate remembering the silence. It’s not that I needed someone to say anything, or that I needed to talk. I needed to hear my baby cry. It never happened though.

I remember going into shock and my body shaking uncontrollably for 2 hours straight. I remember being wheeled into the NICU to see my son. I remember the sounds of the monitors, the hush of the staff working with him, how he smelled, and how he needed to be cleaned up. I asked the nurse if I could clean him. She told me it would be too much stimulation. She said I could touch him, but not to rub or pat him…again, too much stimuli. He felt so cold. I remember pulling my hand away. The nurse explained that they were lowering his body temperature in hopes of bringing back some brain activity. I remember the silence of the nurse when I asked if I should pump milk for him. Her silence told me the truth of what was really happening. I remember being scared, I remember wanting to run. I wanted to run far, far away. I didn’t want to be in that room with that cold baby. I asked to be taken to my room.

My room…not what I had envisioned. As they wheeled me into the room I saw what looked like a postcard on my door. The picture was of a green leaf with a teardrop in the middle. I didn’t know what it meant. I learned later it meant that I had a baby that had either died or was going to die. I remember the silence of my room. I could hear people talking and sniffling in other rooms, but no babies. I couldn’t hear the squeaky cries of a newborn. I remember the sadness. At that time I decided I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t bear to see my baby that way. I wanted to remember him as I had dreamt about him, not as he was. Not with tubes and wires and needles. Not with dried gunk all over his body. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong. Why was this happening? This was not what I was supposed to be feeling.

My friend came to encourage me. She unfortunately understood how I was feeling. She knew what I NEEDED to do. She hauled my rear-end back to that NICU. I will never be able to thank her enough. She told me I needed to make memories…she was right. By the time I went to bed that night I was one hopeful mommy. I had pumped milk for my baby. I had prayed for my baby. I knew my God was the Great Physician. I KNEW he could heal Uriah. I went to bed with hope in my heart.

When I pray I try to always say, “Lord I only want this if this is what You want.” It’s a very difficult thing to say and mean. That day 2 years ago was the most difficult it had ever been.

Have you ever looked through a keyhole in an old house? Imagine for a minute peering through that hole. Can you see that huge king size bed with silk sheets and draperies hanging from the four huge bedposts? What about that ginormous garden tub in the corner surrounded by plants and candles? The little reading nook in the back is so unique. There are pillows everywhere and books lining the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The sunshine streaming through the windows makes you wonder if you want to take a nap in its warmth or read a book by its light. Isn’t it beautiful? I could spend a month in there without ever wanting to leave…especially if my favorite foods were delivered. ;o) The problem lies in our view. It’s only through that stinkin’ keyhole.

God looks from above and can see the bedbugs lying in wait for a warm body. He sees the mold under the paint that will cause our lungs to burn. He hears the rats as they run through the walls. He knows this is not the room for us. He loves us too much to give us a room like that. So he steers us away. Some of us cling to that doorknob as if our life depends on it. Some of us look back longingly. Some of us follow reluctantly. Some of us run to follow Him. I will admit right now. I didn’t run to follow Him, but I knew whatever He decided was what was best for me. Why? Because He loves me completely. I don’t know what Uriah’s future on earth may have been. What if it was full of pain? I would much rather he was safely in heaven with my Savior waiting for me, than to have him suffer at all on this earth. Why? Because I love him completely. The best thing in all of this is I get to spend eternity with him. Not only that, but I now have another little boy that would have NEVER been had Uriah lived. Oh, Asher is such a joy! Yes, he is a typical 1 year old that makes me want to pull my hair out at times, but he is exactly what I needed. He is exactly what my Father wanted me to have. He is my hope.


Patricia said...

Painful and sweet! I cry with you and rejoice with you. God sees us through our sorrows and our joys.


Ginger Vincent said...

Beautiful. Thank you for sharing. We never know what God preserves us from. Just trust. Love you.