Image by lindsayshaver
In two days, I will be the mother of a four-year-old. The eve of each birthday has been more emotional than I expected so I am anticipating a lot of teary eyes tomorrow and I am braced. He is my oldest child, but I think the emotions have as much to do with the lessons God taught me through his entry into this world. In honor of these lessons, let me bring you there with me.
The Story
I had planned a natural hospital birth with a team of highly sought after certified nurse midwives. I was so excited to be doing this “the right way” with my first baby instead of learning the hard way that some providers are not always as “mother friendly” as they claim. (I say “right way” to highlight my over-confident attitude at the time, not to pass judgment in any way!)
And then, at 38 weeks, something unexpected happened. I thought my water had broken and ran to check. It was blood, and lots of it. I frantically pulled my husband out to our truck trying to explain why we had to leave at that very moment, nearly fainting on the way out the door.
A call to the midwives led us to the hospital maternity ward and within minutes we were having that emergency c-section I had so desperately done everything to avoid. I’d had a massive placental abruption, something that all my planning and researching could have done nothing to avoid. All my careful control was lost in mere seconds.
It left my baby boy fighting for every ounce of oxygen he so desperately needed. He came out blue and floppy, his apgar at 2/10. There is absolutely no question that this medical procedure saved his life (and truly at a very real level, God saved his life). He was admitted to the NICU and quickly showed signs of health, turning a light shade of pink and breathing on his own.
We were so relieved and thankful for God’s protection, bringing him through this traumatic birth. The following days were a blur of introducing him to family members while visiting him in the NICU, praising God for his miraculous recovery.
The Aftermath
Six days later, one of his doctor approached me and informed me they wanted to run MRIs of his brain to look for possible damage due to lack of oxygen. It was like someone threw on the brakes of my express train of joy and life came to a screeching halt. As a former special education teacher, I knew the effects lack of oxygen could have. Call it shock or denial, but for six days I had not thought a single time that they might apply to my baby. He was alive, healthy even. God had spared him. Spared us. How could God take back such a gift?!
Because I had apparently not said anything for a prolonged moment, the doctor mumbled something about waiting until my husband returned to talk with the two of us together and he walked away. Thankful, I sat down and let the words play back in my head. How stupid was I for being so happy; so blissfully, selectively ignorant. Of course we weren’t this lucky, this blessed. Would I spend the next one, four, (ten?!) years anxiously watching his every move, waiting for all the signs of the damage caused by the few hours of trauma from a single day? My husband arrived, I can’t even remember if I called him or how I told him what the doctor had said, but I felt like he was less surprised by the whole scenario. For a few seconds I was mad that he had let me remain so clueless.
The doctor returned and we asked him to explain it more. He said they would look for anything abnormal, and if there wasn’t anything we could breathe a little easier. He warned that it was possible they could find something abnormal looking on the scan, and it would turn out to never have any effect, or everything could look perfect and still there could be unexplainable delays. He said with or without the scan we would need to monitor his development carefully and bring up any concerns with our pediatrician. He mentioned most people choose the scan, but some parents prefer to skip it because “they would rather live each day loving and enjoying their new baby and each new development without the knowledge that there may be a problem or the assumed security that everything is normal.”
At that moment, God gave me a peace that was unfathomable. I felt like He spoke to my heart, “That is your life from here on out. As a mother, you will always have an overwhelming love for this child; the desire to protect him, make everything in his life perfect. That fear you feel — is the possibility of losing that which you love. It is the realization that by allowing yourself to love that deeply there is a risk of being hurt beyond measure. But don’t let that possibility paralyze you! You have never been guaranteed a single moment of life beyond this very moment. No one has. You have not lost control — You. Never. Had. It. You must live every day loving and enjoying this baby, everyone you love, without ever assuming you’ll have another day. Don’t live holding your breath because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I hold tomorrow in MY hands. The same hands that hold you.”
I will never know what those MRIs might have revealed about that tiny 6 day old baby, but I do know that God has gifted us with nearly four years to know, love, and enjoy our son a little more each day and what an amazing ride it has been!
Do you want to know something extra special? God gave us reassurance at every milestone that He was holding us and our every care in His hands. Our son hit every milestone that first year (and all the years since) in the earliest portion of the age range listed for each one. I didn’t even have the chance to sit around and wonder if he would sit or crawl or walk or talk “on time.” He continues to blow me away with his insatiable need for knowledge, his creativity, his quick wit, and his (selectively) sweet actions toward his little brother. Doesn’t God give good gifts?
There is a balance in motherhood between looking for the next problem and assuming that you have been promised security and control.





















