I remember the months of preparation. I remember the hours of decorating the nursery, the 8 week child-birth classes, the collecting of cloth diapers and breast feeding equipment. I remember the baby showers and the advice about the first few weeks on being home with a new baby. I remember the expectant joy. 
Then in an instant it was all unimportant. In a flash I nearly forgot I was carrying my son inside of me, and I was enveloped with shock. I remember that night at the ER, waiting for the test results. I was really pregnant, and the nurse kept asking me if I needed a better chair. Trevor had a gown on and tubes in his arms, and a look of utter boredom on his face. I remember waddling to the bathroom across the hall, and wondering when we would get to go home. 
I don't think I ever fully realized what was happening. My body was in shock, my mind numb with shock, my heart on hold. I couldn't eat. I was 41 weeks pregnant and I could barely eat a single thing for 4 days. I remember leaving the neurosurgeon's office, after he just told us he recommended emergency brain surgery the next day, and I just couldn't be strong anymore. I wanted so desperately to be strong for Trevor, to be his support and help him through the most devastating news of his life. But all I could do was hold onto him in the hallway of the hospital and weep into his chest. I didn't even really know why I was crying. There were so many reasons to be crying and I couldn't think of them, all I could do was cry. He held me for a long time in that hallway. And then we looked at each other and knew we had to do surgery the next day. No matter the cost, no matter what. It was his best chance at surviving any longer. We didn't want to take the chance of it growing and pressing on his brain stem.  
Tests were done that day. We went and had his "last meal" at a Mexican restaurant. He got something to do with salmon; "brain food" he said, "and I need all of it I can get." It rained, and a long time after that. A dark gray foreboding rain. I remember thinking to myself, "of all the weather that could have happened, it had to be a dreary dark rain." I remember being sick to my stomach with fear and worry, but smiling and repeating scripture with Trevor. We were claiming the promise of God, that by His stripes we are healed. It was the only thing that kept us from losing our minds. 
I remember the first night after surgery. I had to go upstairs and be monitored, and they told me I was 4cm dilated. I walked the halls around the maternity ward by myself, biting my tongue till it bled, trying to hold off tears that would never stop if I let them flow. They wanted me to go into labor, and I cried to my aunt that my husband should be here, that I didn't want to do this alone at all. I kept worrying about Trevor downstairs and all I wanted was to be with him. He was going to be there when I had this baby, and it wasn't going to be now. 
I slept on a hospital chair with 8 pillows. The nurses looked at me like I was crazy when I kept asking for more pillows. I could have cared less. I was going to sleep next to my husband in this hospital chair and I was going to do it with as many pillows as allowed me some form of comfort. I remember the day I made the decision to have a C-Section. It was on a Tuesday, and Trevor had been out of surgery for 4 days. I scheduled the C-Section for Thursday. The night before, as I lay consumed in pillows next to Trevor's bed, we were both so excited. Tomorrow we would be parents! It wasn't how I had planned; natural birth, blah blah blah. But it was going to happen together. I don't know how I slept, Trevor at least had Percocet. 
The nurses and doctors were a little skeptical about Trevor being there. With good reason. He had just had brain surgery less than a week before. Goodness sakes, how was he even walking around? But he walked into that surgery room and sat at my head and held my hand. He couldn't look down very well, but he talked to me and his voice soothed all my fears. He told me I looked beautiful and reminded me that we were going to be parents any minute. He was there as we heard Jeremiah's first noise, before he was even all the way out of me. He was there to be the first one to hold Jeremiah. 
All the classes we took, all the reading we had done, all the cloth diapers we had accumulated, all the breastfeeding knowledge I had was all thrown out the window. Not because we chose it. We had no choice. But because it was what was best for our family. I don't regret anything at all. We made it through those first few months together. Looking back on it, I don't really remember how I did it. Trevor was still pretty out of it, and I was still recovering from major surgery myself. But we did it together. 
As the birth of my second son draws ever nearer, I realize we have nothing ready. I think i'm afraid to prepare. We did so much preparing with Jeremiah, all for naught. We didn't use one single thing we prepared. Jeremiah wasn't even in his nursery for the first 4 months. So as this birth comes closer, I find myself fearful. What if's plague my heart...what if the tumor comes back? What if he dies this time? What if I have to do it by myself with two babies instead of one? What if....
I can't let myself dwell on the what if's. I start to freak out, and I have to know that no matter what happens, good or bad, Yahweh will be there, my Rock and my strength. My wisdom and my love. My joy and my healing. He is all that now as I continue to heal, spiritually and emotionally, from the events of over a year ago. I can quite truthfully say now, "Thank you, Abba, for all that happened 11 months ago."  I don't regret a single event or choice, emotion or word. Praise His name...


  1. You both are so strong Marybeth....strengthened by God in all He did then! Don't fear...God will prepare you...He always does! I love you!


Post a Comment

Thank you for taking the time to comment!

Popular Posts