Always Say Yes
After fourteen
hours of driving and two hours of sleep, I stood looking into the eyes of my
child. I made every sacrifice possible
to assure I would be there to pray with her before she was wheeled away for her
C-section. My mind drifted and began to
recall every scratch, bump, and bruise she has ever had. I thought of when she jumped off the top bunk
and landed on the toy box and ran with blood gushing from her head to hide in
the kitchen cabinet so I wouldn’t take her to the “hotpital for ditches.” I smiled as my mind raced to Christmas 1994
when my sisters gift to my children was Chickenpox and I was sure there would
be scars. I remembered every cold,
cough, and fever.
This is her first
child. She has no idea how much can go
wrong. Didn’t she read “What to Expect
When You are Expecting?” Did she see the
posters by the NICU with instructions for resuscitating an unresponsive
infant? Did she remember when the radio
announcer “Break of Dawn” died during child birth a few years back? See, I have spent the last twenty-one years
worrying about her. What do I do now
with my grandchild about to enter this world?
I can’t quit now, I must worry!
And off she went.
I sat in the waiting room with family eager to hear the Lullaby that the hospital
plays when a baby is born. The doctor
said it would only take ten minutes to deliver my granddaughter; the majority
of time is spent stitching up the mom.
One half hour passed and still no music, no one came to get us. Then finally we heard that precious sound,
the lullaby. A group of elderly women
that were also awaiting a new arrival came out from the ward and said, “Is that
one yours? We just saw her, she is
absolutely beautiful.” Relief overtook
me, all was well.
I stood at that
window watching my first grandchild with tears in both of our eyes. Her new Daddy so excited to see her, taking
photo after photo as to never forget this moment. What seemed like an eternity passed, and
finally her doctor emerged out of the OR.
He explained that my child was born with a deformity that they were
unaware of, so the procedure was more complicated than expected. Chelsea
was missing her right ovary, right tubes, and right kidney. They were going to do another procedure in
six weeks to make sure of what was there and what wasn’t. The baby had been breech and the uterus had
gone into the space where the organs should have been. The position made it
difficult to make the incision and to remove the baby from the womb. I immediately went into melt down mode. I
cried to my husband, how could I not have known my child is missing
organs? The Doctor said she could have
hemorrhaged if she would have gone into labor, and she would never be able to
give birth naturally. All that worrying
I could have been doing! What my husband
said next determined the “Mimi” I was about to become. He said, “Robyn, do you realize that all
these years she has been in God’s hands.
She has not had one problem with the organs she does have, don’t you let
the devil steal the joy of our grandchild’s birth.”
That was it. My worrying had accomplished nothing, all
those years for absolutely nothing. No
one ever looks back and says, “All that anxiety, yep, sure did make me a better
mom,” or, “Thank goodness I cried myself to sleep every night.” And guess what? It didn’t change a thing.
I walked into her
room and looked at her peaceful face and the perfect baby she produced in spite
of all my worry. I began to rattle off
instructions that I knew she needed to know; make sure you everyone washes
their hands before they touch her, always sterilize her bottles because you
know babies can get thrush, put oil on her hair so she doesn’t get cradle cap,
and for the love of all things good and pure, have the nurse show you how to
bath her before you get discharged, babies can drown in an inch of water. Wait, these worries are no longer mine, they
are hers, and I believe she will unlikely carry that torch, Praise the
Lord. My description is now a grandmother,
a Mimi, if you will. And not only do I
no longer have the worry, but I also do not have the responsibility of being
the one that has to say no. As a Mimi,
my responsibility is to always say yes. Our roles have changed, and the dynamic
was new and unfamiliar, but I was ready to embrace it.
Yes, Noelle, you are beautiful and wonderfully made. Yes, unicorns are real and we can have ice cream for breakfast. Yes, the world is wonderful. Yes, everything will be ok, and yes, there is nothing to worry about because your daddy is kind and your mommy is brilliant……….. and your Mimi is right here.
How beautiful, congrats! I almost cried at what your husband said...so wise and so true. In some ways there is so little we have control over, but God is able to take care of all things!
ReplyDeleteEnjoy that new baby and praying that all is well with your daughter's recovery!