NOTHING could
prepare me for what I was about to experience. It was after 10PM as we waited
in pre-op room. Dancing between denial of the situation with nursing staff,
sometimes in aloof banter, some of which was light-hearted, my wife lay there;
her abdomen a distinct shape, in that I could see the contour of our infant, motionless,
still for all time.
As I conversed
with others, and, as my wife lay shivering through shock and fever, because of
infection, I massaged her abdomen; the shape of my son’s left side, hip, and
thigh, discernible. I found myself strangely aware of all that was going on;
strangely calm given my son had passed away hours beforehand. Indeed, as I
faced those very interminable moments I found God, there, with me, giving me
the strength to be real. And it wasn’t hard to be real. Through it all, so was
my wife very real, despite the spiking fever that presented.
And, “through it
all” was an anthem for us, when this period might have rather been an anathema
to the enemy of God who would seek us pile-driven into the ground; a time when
God’s Presence transcended any numb indwelling. “Through it all my eyes are on
you… it is well…” were the words of a song we played twice through, during the birthing
process, through tears of eternity’s longing and through the fearful anticipation
of what lay just before us as an unprecedented experience.
I will never
forget the moments leading up to Nathanael’s birth. It was a long Caesarean
Section birth procedure, (in comparison to having had my previous four children
born that way). The mood inside the theatre was stark. Silence, apart from
Kristene DiMarco’s voice and her ethereal music. Nobody wanted to mention the
elephant in the room. My response was to issue grace — heaven knows, we all
needed it in spades.
Every time we
discerned a movement from my wife’s abdomen, as the surgeons manipulated
tissues, we prepared ourselves for the moment of Nathanael’s actual arrival.
There seemed to be several iterations where we readied ourselves. The medical
team were struggling to get Nathanael in a position where they could extract
him. When they ultimately did birth him, our midwife gave me the cue. She
draped my cradled hands in a towel. As I got up from the stool I was sitting on
I was greeted by the surgeon who gave to me my son. As with the births of all
my children nothing could prepare me for the emotions I was now feeling. But
this moment was world’s different. There was no feeling of positive pressure
amid joy to care for the baby. There was no eye contact or interaction from the
surgeon. The moment was dormant; void of something. It was an incredibly sad
moment for which courage was made.
I grasped
Nathanael with both hands — my boy, every bit nearly 8 pounds, which was very
healthy given 36 weeks and 2 days gestation — and immediately kissed his
forehead; a kiss of longing. His skin had a distinctive smell about it. He had
a frown on his face. He looked like his older brother, just asleep. I just
wanted to hold him. I took him over to Sarah and we both cried for a while. The
operating staff just got on with their jobs, leaving us alone. We were not
rushed. We spent an initial 3 hours with Nathanael, including bathing and
dressing him back in my wife’s delivery suite.
Moments like
this life and time stands still. Nothing else matters. And you get the distinct
impression that your life has changed forever; a very surreal feeling demanding
surrender. Yet, strangely, I was also so happy I got to meet Nathanael this
way. God was good in sustaining me and us when we could have been so awash with
emotion not to make the most of the moment.
Later that
morning — literally only five hours later — all the family were in attendance
whilst Heartfelt took photos for us. It was a difficult experience for several
in our family, but everyone did their best and that’s all anyone can ask. We
were so proud of our family throughout the whole period.
Nothing prepares us for an encounter with fear that is
certainly coming. Times like this we just simply pray, “God give me strength
and courage.”
***
One thing I learned in that darkest hour,
It was definitely not me that held the power,
Only by faith did I have God’s grace,
Because I walked obediently and sought his face.
© 2015 Steve
Wickham.
"Through it all... " thank you Steve for your raw honesty and vulnerably.
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