Dare to Reflect
Today is Luke's first birthday and I am having a wonderful time celebrating it with the kids and Adam. One year prior to this moment, I was calling the doctor, double-checking my hospital bag and timing contractions. I've been doing this all day. One year before this time, I/we were doing this. I'm sure it's annoying to Adam, but I can't help it. I just love reminiscing about such important events. Unfortunately, doing so is causing me to remember the parts of the day that weren't so pleasant. As these memories come to mind, I realize that I never let myself think about what could have happened or just how close we came to losing him. A whole year later, I decided that it's time.
No one has ever seen me cry about the what if, but I do. As I rock Lucas, his tired eyes fall close, I see his red birthmark fade until it is invisible, and the tears fall...almost waking him. The thought still scares me from time to time, haunts me really, but it only lasts a few moments before my heart is filled with gratefulness. I must have thanked God everyday this past year for the precious gift of our son. I've thanked Him for giving the doctors and nurses the wisdom to know what to do, for making my body and little Luke's body do all that was necessary to deliver him alive and with just enough blood to survive. It's so very hard to believe that all of this happened a year ago. The feelings still seem so real. I remember everything so clearly. The slant at the top of the cabinets that obviously weren't meant for that corner of the delivery room. I stared at it through many of my contractions. The feeling of numbness in my legs once the epidural came on a way too strong. The silence of the monitor at no sound of baby Luke's heartbeat. The comfort of my husband's hand wrapped tightly around mine. One tear lingering at the edge of each eye as I delivered my beautiful, baby boy into the world. His first cry...the sweetest, most comforting sound in all the world. Straining to catch even a glimpse of him in the warming bed and catching sight of his left eye. The doctor bringing him over laying him near my chin. Blue eyes that seemed to recognize me once he heard my voice. Then quiet and emptiness as I was left alone with a kind nurse who did her best to keep my spirit up. Pausing in the hospital hallway to play the lullaby that is played each time a baby is born. Hearing it during a visit to the emergency room last month reminded me of the pain I felt as I did my best to cry silently while being wheeled to the NICU, wanting to be strong, but holding a heavy heart in my chest. The calm, the relief as I placed 12-hour-old baby Luke right where he belonged, curled up on my chest. After days in the NICU and uncertainty of what was happening, the elation I felt at hearing the nurse tell me his platelet levels were rising. Everything was going to be just fine. Everything was just fine.
No one has ever seen me cry about the what if, but I do. As I rock Lucas, his tired eyes fall close, I see his red birthmark fade until it is invisible, and the tears fall...almost waking him. The thought still scares me from time to time, haunts me really, but it only lasts a few moments before my heart is filled with gratefulness. I must have thanked God everyday this past year for the precious gift of our son. I've thanked Him for giving the doctors and nurses the wisdom to know what to do, for making my body and little Luke's body do all that was necessary to deliver him alive and with just enough blood to survive. It's so very hard to believe that all of this happened a year ago. The feelings still seem so real. I remember everything so clearly. The slant at the top of the cabinets that obviously weren't meant for that corner of the delivery room. I stared at it through many of my contractions. The feeling of numbness in my legs once the epidural came on a way too strong. The silence of the monitor at no sound of baby Luke's heartbeat. The comfort of my husband's hand wrapped tightly around mine. One tear lingering at the edge of each eye as I delivered my beautiful, baby boy into the world. His first cry...the sweetest, most comforting sound in all the world. Straining to catch even a glimpse of him in the warming bed and catching sight of his left eye. The doctor bringing him over laying him near my chin. Blue eyes that seemed to recognize me once he heard my voice. Then quiet and emptiness as I was left alone with a kind nurse who did her best to keep my spirit up. Pausing in the hospital hallway to play the lullaby that is played each time a baby is born. Hearing it during a visit to the emergency room last month reminded me of the pain I felt as I did my best to cry silently while being wheeled to the NICU, wanting to be strong, but holding a heavy heart in my chest. The calm, the relief as I placed 12-hour-old baby Luke right where he belonged, curled up on my chest. After days in the NICU and uncertainty of what was happening, the elation I felt at hearing the nurse tell me his platelet levels were rising. Everything was going to be just fine. Everything was just fine.
I must have missed reading this post before...maybe not the best time to read it as I am 2 weeks away from delivering baby #2. It is such an honest and emotional post I can't help but wipe the countless tears from my face and thank God for Lucas! God Bless you and your little boy:)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mel. I kinda snicked this one in here on purpose. Agreed, not the best timing for reading it...sorry. I am thinking of you throughout each day now that you are so close to meeting your new little someone and always praying for a BORING, happy and healthy delivery!
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