emotional

Just after I updated my blog (go below to read the first post I made today), I went on to read a few others. I stumbled upon the story of a sweet baby girl, born far too early, and struggling to make it in NICU. As I read through the post, it brought back a flood of memories. Just 4 short months ago, we were staring at our baby Bear through a plastic hood. He was huge when compared to the tiny preemies he laid next to and I couldn't even imagine what these parents had been going through, especially those who had been there for weeks, or even months, watching their precious babies, unable to hold them. I only had 48 hours to deal with and I am still not over it, apparently. I think I just need to rehash it, to get a hold on it, and move on knowing how blessed we truly are.

Only a few people know the incredible joy of carrying a baby. Nothing about it is easy, but every moment of it is worth it. I was truly lucky to have such easy pregnancies, in the grand scheme of things. I also know that we made the right decision, for us, to be through having babies. But, after all that time of only hearing the heartbeat or seeing ultrasound pictures, I just needed that moment to hold my baby IMMEDIATELY after he was born. The most amazing memory I have of giving birth to Maryn Grace was the first time I looked in to her eyes after the doctor said "it's a girl!" However, after a c-section, you get the joy and pleasure of "recovering" all alone for about an hour. So, being wheeled out and actually getting to wrap my arms around her for the first time was absolutely incredible. We were surrounded by beaming family and just thinking back on that moment brings tears to my eyes.

I didn't get that with baby Barret. Sure, I got to hear "it's a boy!" and look in to his eyes for a quick moment. But then, I knew something was wrong. I kept asking Branum if he was ok. I had heard him cry, but now I saw him surrounded by doctors and I just knew something wasn't right. I went to recovery and tried desperately to keep my eyes open and convince the nurse to let me out early. She refused. I laid there, wondering what was going on out there- wishing I could have seen the responses from family and wanting desperately to hold my brand new baby boy. Time was creeping by. Finally, I was wheeled out. All the family was gone, except Bran, Maryn and my mom. I couldn't wait to see Maryn and be a part of the celebration I had worked so hard for. It didn't happen. Instead, I got to stare through the nursery window at my baby boy, far in the back, getting oxygen.

I hugged Maryn and she left with my mom. We got settled in to our room and I laid awake, waiting. I kept waiting, and waiting, and asking and getting no answers. "Soon." Bear was born at 7:10 p.m. and by 2:00 a.m., I was still refusing to sleep and begging to hold my baby boy. Finally, a nursery nurse came in. She didn't have good news. They needed to provide him more and they could only provide that in the NICU. I begged them to at least bring him by my room, so I could reach in and touch him. They conceded, for about 3 minutes, and then wheeled him off. I was still not allowed to do any walking and I was connected to a million IV's so I couldn't do much without Branum. As sweet and sensitive as he truly is, he had no idea the pain I was in. I didn't feel a thing from the huge incision in my gut- it was the pain of NEEDING to hold my baby. I wanted to follow him down to NICU and Bran wanted me to rest. I wanted to fight to hold him, and Bran wanted me to trust the doctors. I just couldn't possibly vocalize the need. Of course I needed to rest, but I needed to hold that sweet boy so much more. We eventually made our way down the elevator and were taught all the NICU procedures. My first, long, up-close look at my son was through a plastic tent. He was connected to IV's and oxygen and my heart just broke. I could do more then pick up a small edge of the tent and touch his toes. I stared at him, in disbelief and prayed, for hours. The nurses gave us a million different scenarios and the doctors wouldn't share much information. I just wanted to understand. I just wanted to hold him.

Finally, about 36 hours later, I was able to hold my baby boy. The rush of emotion comes back over me even now. He was still all connected and he couldn't be out for very long. I couldn't nurse and I couldn't kiss on him. It broke my heart. I wanted to fight! I wanted to push! I wanted Branum to agree with me! I wanted SOMEONE. ANYONE. to understand. I tried so hard to hold it all together. I had this huge vision of visitors coming to see us, meet our new son and hold him. No one could. I had a vision of the first moment that I got to see Maryn Grace and her new little brother lock eyes. It didn't happen. Sure, people did what they could to love on me and listen and tell me to rest. Finally. FINALLY, baby Bear was going to be all mine. "Tomorrow morning, I bet." "If he can regulate his temperature after this bath, we will just have a few more hours." "We just to ween him down to 100% room air and he will be all yours." "He just needs to hold down 6 ozs. of formula and we can release him." It was dark and dreary and sad in the NICU. It was completely cut-off from the outside world. I sincerely HATED it.

48 horribly long hours later, he was coming to our room. Aww, sweet relief. My prayers (and those of many others) were answered and I was going to get to hold the little baby who had been kicking and hiccuping and growing inside of me for the last 9 months. It is a moment that I will absolutely never forget. It was nothing like I imagined it would be, but God had a plan. I know He wanted to strengthen me in this trial, but I didn't like it. Not one tiny bit.

Oftentimes we find our calling at the intersection of pain and suffering. I don't think I have some new calling to work with babies in the NICU or anything like that, but I do know that God absolutely strengthened my ability to empathize, and for that I am thankful. My students, though not in the NICU, need me to understand and to listen. My family needs me to pray for them and love on them, even when I don't get it. And more than anything, God needs me to trust Him to fulfill his plan for my life even when His vision doesn't match up with mine.

I don't know how parents do it for weeks and months at a time. I dealt with it for a very short time and it nearly broke me. My hope is that this newfound empathy results in a life full of prayer and looking to the One above for others. Praise God that he allowed me to suffer. I am better for it.