To say the day began and progressed as a hectic one would have been a major understatement. That evening my husband and I were to host one of our diocesan bishops overnight in our home. He had graciously agreed to be one of the speakers of a series of talks in our church. Hoping to put finishing touches on obligations at work, my day came to an abrupt and heart-stopping halt. Our expectant daughter who was not due for a couple of months telephoned me to say that she was on her way to the hospital. She had just been diagnosed with preeclampsia. With this life-threatening development for both her and her baby, her doctor immediately admitted her to the hospital for an emergency c-section delivery.
It is amazing what adrenaline can do to help in packing. Within (what seemed minutes) I was packed, car filled with gas and headed westward for the long drive to the hospital and our daughter, in hopes of arriving before she was taken into surgery.
Have you ever noticed that things move quickly in a hospital when a life is threatened? Everything around our daughter appeared to move at “warp speed.” It seemed that our daughter’s hospital room filled and emptied in a matter of seconds. What suddenly appeared in her room, abruptly departed at one time. All of a sudden I found myself seated in the one and only piece of furniture left in the room – a straight back chair.
Seated for the first time since I arrived, the weight of the day's events seem to push me further into the chair. Minutes moved to hours. The room, like me, was silent except for the prayers being offered with every breath I drew. What had once been a room filled with a frantic pace, now moved in slow motion.
Voices in the hallway drew my attention upward to the sound of two nurses talking at the nurses’ station located just outside our daughter’s room. “She didn’t make it,” came from one of the nurses. What was spoken after that, I do not know. I only know that my world suddenly appeared terribly wrong. My first response was, “Please Lord, let this cup pass by me, I beg you.” Then, settling into the peace that is my mainstay, I released my daughter and her new baby girl to the hands that created them both. My prayer then moved to, “Peace, Lord, give us all peace but please let them both be okay.”
The movement of a body rushing into the room brought my face up and to the eyes of my son-in-law. He was dressed in scrubs. He had come down to the room to tell me, “She is okay, but the baby is not doing well. They need me to stay with the baby and accompany her to NICU.” I hugged and kissed him hello and goodbye and sent him on his way.
Soon after my son-in-law’s departure, my daughter returned to her room to find waiting a very thankful mother. Sometime later my son-in-law returned to the room spent. Since the hospital was filled to capacity, it had no other accommodations available, so the nurse offered our son-in-law a mattress on which he could sleep. Our son-in-law gratefully accepted the mattress, and was soon sleeping soundly on the floor in the corner of the room.
For the remainder of the night, I sat or stood next to our daughter’s bed, feeding her ice chips, speaking peace, love and thankfulness for her and our new granddaughter’s safe delivery.
The morning dawn slipped silently into a new day. Seeing the time for me to go, I reach down to retrieve my purse to do a quick touch up of my makeup and hair before leaving the hospital. My services were now required to take the older sibling to preschool. And as you would expect, that day was the school’s class pictures, and a picnic complete with a pony ride! My hands were needed to transform a sleepy little princess into a budding southern belle with pigtails and a bandana. As I bent over to gather my things to leave, my son-in-law stirred on his pallet. Pulling himself to a sitting position he appeared visibly surprised. He wiped his eyes with both hands, looked straight at me and said, “Wow, Nani, you look great! You don’t look like you have been awake all night.” To that pronouncement of a “touch-up” of hair and make-up gone well, I replied with a smile and a wink, “Well, Angel Man, that’s what a Steel Magnolia looks like!”
I know that it is not by my own strength that I have survived the night’s events seemingly unruffled. I know without a doubt that it is solely due to a strong faith that was taught at the knee and on the knee. And that this faith is in a God who not only guides and protects me through the storm but has taught me to dance in the rain.
It is amazing what adrenaline can do to help in packing. Within (what seemed minutes) I was packed, car filled with gas and headed westward for the long drive to the hospital and our daughter, in hopes of arriving before she was taken into surgery.
Have you ever noticed that things move quickly in a hospital when a life is threatened? Everything around our daughter appeared to move at “warp speed.” It seemed that our daughter’s hospital room filled and emptied in a matter of seconds. What suddenly appeared in her room, abruptly departed at one time. All of a sudden I found myself seated in the one and only piece of furniture left in the room – a straight back chair.
Seated for the first time since I arrived, the weight of the day's events seem to push me further into the chair. Minutes moved to hours. The room, like me, was silent except for the prayers being offered with every breath I drew. What had once been a room filled with a frantic pace, now moved in slow motion.
Voices in the hallway drew my attention upward to the sound of two nurses talking at the nurses’ station located just outside our daughter’s room. “She didn’t make it,” came from one of the nurses. What was spoken after that, I do not know. I only know that my world suddenly appeared terribly wrong. My first response was, “Please Lord, let this cup pass by me, I beg you.” Then, settling into the peace that is my mainstay, I released my daughter and her new baby girl to the hands that created them both. My prayer then moved to, “Peace, Lord, give us all peace but please let them both be okay.”
The movement of a body rushing into the room brought my face up and to the eyes of my son-in-law. He was dressed in scrubs. He had come down to the room to tell me, “She is okay, but the baby is not doing well. They need me to stay with the baby and accompany her to NICU.” I hugged and kissed him hello and goodbye and sent him on his way.
Soon after my son-in-law’s departure, my daughter returned to her room to find waiting a very thankful mother. Sometime later my son-in-law returned to the room spent. Since the hospital was filled to capacity, it had no other accommodations available, so the nurse offered our son-in-law a mattress on which he could sleep. Our son-in-law gratefully accepted the mattress, and was soon sleeping soundly on the floor in the corner of the room.
For the remainder of the night, I sat or stood next to our daughter’s bed, feeding her ice chips, speaking peace, love and thankfulness for her and our new granddaughter’s safe delivery.
The morning dawn slipped silently into a new day. Seeing the time for me to go, I reach down to retrieve my purse to do a quick touch up of my makeup and hair before leaving the hospital. My services were now required to take the older sibling to preschool. And as you would expect, that day was the school’s class pictures, and a picnic complete with a pony ride! My hands were needed to transform a sleepy little princess into a budding southern belle with pigtails and a bandana. As I bent over to gather my things to leave, my son-in-law stirred on his pallet. Pulling himself to a sitting position he appeared visibly surprised. He wiped his eyes with both hands, looked straight at me and said, “Wow, Nani, you look great! You don’t look like you have been awake all night.” To that pronouncement of a “touch-up” of hair and make-up gone well, I replied with a smile and a wink, “Well, Angel Man, that’s what a Steel Magnolia looks like!”
I know that it is not by my own strength that I have survived the night’s events seemingly unruffled. I know without a doubt that it is solely due to a strong faith that was taught at the knee and on the knee. And that this faith is in a God who not only guides and protects me through the storm but has taught me to dance in the rain.
Now, five years later, the same bishop visited our church on the anniversary of the night this budding Steel Magnolia arrived. Thought it fitting to write this as testimony to God's faithfulness in our lives. Sorry I missed you again, Rayford!
1 comment:
Sweet, sweet story! So glad you are back in blog-land!
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