I’m a believer. I live under the belief that this cylindrical world we live in has such purpose and intersecting moments that have to be planned by a higher power. My God. He may be your God too, I can share. Man, He is always good. Even in our moments of being truly scared, I never felt alone. I felt Him there nestled between my husband, baby, and extended family and me. I didn’t feel this urge to pray for change. Or have anger. I cleaved to my God’s bigger plan.
The first day we met Dr B, three days after Mar was born, she was the first to say we needed to do surgery and we needed to do it now. There were so many in the room. I was a shell. I never planned to be in the hospital that long so I had a few ill fitting tank tops and lounge pants that in hindsight probably had me looking like a full outright crazy person. I hadn’t showered. I wasn’t leaving her side again- I had already missed her first day! I got engorged all the way under my arms. And my truly handsome husband stood there taking it all in looking so poised and in control. I was out of words. Dealing. The drs gave the prognosis and wow. Punch. Dr F, with her thick accent sounded so sure. I watched B and F converse thinking, how did we get here.
I always wanted to be a Doctor. My mom, a nurse, had me at the hospital late into the nights when I was a kid and I felt comfortable in the environment (until now). I tried through college, but one weed out class and I wasn’t capable without a lot more studying and I wasn’t that disciplined at the time. Now, as I watched them, hands under chin introspectively discussing I realized I was never meant to be them. They had a super power. I folded. They with their white coats covered with a thin protective vellum meant to not expose each patient to the last’s germs looked like they glowed. My husband chokes back words and the room went silent. Wow, he says. “I just want to say, if we do nothing. If we take her home and do nothing, she is perfect... perfect”. He says perfect so silent the second time, barely audible that no one said a thing. Beep. Beep. Beep. Silence.
It was a moment.
It must have been for everyone else too, because days later with nurse K (who wasn’t our nurse until now), lightly joking with us talking about getting ready for surgery and meeting with Dr B, if he was gonna cry again... while I wanted to be offended with her (she was a good nurse I felt) I knew he had made an impact in their lives too. Don’t we all long for our Daddy to say we are perfect and nestle us in close. He did that. God does that for us too if we let him and recognize it in the moment. That’s where I live with my God. Oh how he loves.
And yes, we cried every time. It’s your baby- how could you not.
The first day we met Dr B, three days after Mar was born, she was the first to say we needed to do surgery and we needed to do it now. There were so many in the room. I was a shell. I never planned to be in the hospital that long so I had a few ill fitting tank tops and lounge pants that in hindsight probably had me looking like a full outright crazy person. I hadn’t showered. I wasn’t leaving her side again- I had already missed her first day! I got engorged all the way under my arms. And my truly handsome husband stood there taking it all in looking so poised and in control. I was out of words. Dealing. The drs gave the prognosis and wow. Punch. Dr F, with her thick accent sounded so sure. I watched B and F converse thinking, how did we get here.
I always wanted to be a Doctor. My mom, a nurse, had me at the hospital late into the nights when I was a kid and I felt comfortable in the environment (until now). I tried through college, but one weed out class and I wasn’t capable without a lot more studying and I wasn’t that disciplined at the time. Now, as I watched them, hands under chin introspectively discussing I realized I was never meant to be them. They had a super power. I folded. They with their white coats covered with a thin protective vellum meant to not expose each patient to the last’s germs looked like they glowed. My husband chokes back words and the room went silent. Wow, he says. “I just want to say, if we do nothing. If we take her home and do nothing, she is perfect... perfect”. He says perfect so silent the second time, barely audible that no one said a thing. Beep. Beep. Beep. Silence.
It was a moment.
It must have been for everyone else too, because days later with nurse K (who wasn’t our nurse until now), lightly joking with us talking about getting ready for surgery and meeting with Dr B, if he was gonna cry again... while I wanted to be offended with her (she was a good nurse I felt) I knew he had made an impact in their lives too. Don’t we all long for our Daddy to say we are perfect and nestle us in close. He did that. God does that for us too if we let him and recognize it in the moment. That’s where I live with my God. Oh how he loves.
And yes, we cried every time. It’s your baby- how could you not.
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