I wished up to the minute we set foot in the hospital that Joey would decide to come on his own. I didn't want to force him out. And I had all the normal fears any expectant mother has about labor and delivery. But in the end, Joey arrived safely. And we are so incredibly blessed to have a healthy baby boy! But God whispered those words to me from that song over and over again in the hours that led up to Joey's delivery.
As I write this, Joey is 3 months old. I wish I could tell you how many times I have stopped in the past 3 months and asked myself (and God), "is this real?" I knew I would love our boy, but I had no idea how much! And I knew I would still have fears and concerns for him as his mother, but I didn't know how those would take effect until recently. To understand the past few weeks, you have to know where it started: in the delivery room.
Joey's delivery did not go as smooth as we hoped. (I can almost hear anyone who has ever had a child say, "Do they ever?") I was scheduled to be induced 8 days after his due date. He made his big entrance into the world 10 days after his due date. The happy ending to the story is that he and I both made it to the other side of the delivery, healthy and happy. But there were some bumps in the road. About 30 hours after being induced, Joey dropped suddenly, and his heart rate started going down. When the nurse still couldn't get a good heart rate after having me turn, she had Blaine pull the "help" string, and within seconds, about a dozen nurses rushed in to help get Joey out. Luckily, I had an epidural, so I was able to deliver Joey - but they did have to use forceps to help him out. The whole event (from the time the string was pulled for help, to the time they had Joey out on the table) was around 14 minutes.
The hitch in all of this was that they had to use forceps. Every time one of the attendings would tell me to push, she would look over to the other nurses and say, "I need that room ready!" I knew if I couldn't get Joey out, they were going to do an emergency C-section. So I prayed (and pushed) hard. And in all that chaos, I could still hear that song. One of the things that Blaine and I recalled looking back on the craziness was that the same attending who told me to push was the one who (before using the forceps) rattled off about 100 warnings and side effects to us about the forceps, (I guess to get our final approval). It was exactly like the muffled jargon you hear slipped into a commercial about any kind of medication. ("Could cause brain damage, nerve damage, optical damage, skull deformation, ..........." and a whole list of long medical terms I can't even recall. And certainly had no time to ask at that moment.) I just wanted Joey out - safely! I knew his heart rate was still dropping, and I wanted them to do whatever they had to do to get him out of there fast. And they did!
If I could go back and change things, I don't know that I would have done it any different. Because the outcome was that Joey picked right up and was breathing and crying all on his own within seconds. But, unfortunately, one of those side effects that the attending had rattled off was exactly what we were left with once Joey was born. 
For weeks after Joey's birth, we noticed a slight difference between his eyes. One didn't quite open all the way. We had friends and family members ask about it. And at his 2 month checkup, we asked his doctor about it. After flashing a light in his eyes several times, and taking a closer look, he started offering suggestions of what it could be and went to type in some things in the computer. (I think the fears for Blaine and I started then and there.) Two pediatric opthamologists later, we were told that Joey has a condition where his pupil does not dilate correctly and one eyelid is not as strong as the other. Something that most likely happened because of his traumatic birth. Essentially, it's nerve damage between his eye and his brain that either took effect at birth, or developed over time because of something compressing on those nerves. This latter is the kind we didn't want - because that meant that something was growing: a tumor. To be sure this could be ruled out, Joey was scheduled for an MRI.
So, this past week, Blaine and I took our 3 month old boy to Duke Children's Hospital, praying with every step that we wouldn't be making more trips there because of a tumor in our little boy. The procedure itself was okay, but incredibly painful (physically, for Joey; emotionally for me and Blaine). I could share with you the details of the day - how painful it was to watch the nurses try to find a good vein for his I.V. while he cried for what felt like an hour; how I wanted to throw myself inside the tube and comfort him when he woke up (twice) during the scan; how my heart ached in ways I didn't know it could when I heard cries from him I've never heard before. As if he was crying and asking, "Why is this happening?" and, "please make them stop, Momma." I was torn apart. And all the while, feeling so guilty, because I must have passed a dozen parents that day with children in conditions I cannot imagine watching your child go through.
After the longest 5 hours, we were being discharged and finally sent home. I wish I could tell you we were skipping to the car and felt so good to have that behind us. (And it DID feel great to know that part was over!) But, I felt sick. I thought several times on the way out that I was going to throw up, and came very close to leaning over in the bushes right outside the front entrance. I don't know if it was the stress of what I'd watched Joey go through, or the fear of the news that might come later.
I'll kill the suspense we felt for two days afterward and tell you that everything came back as "normal." Our Joey has no tumor!
So, what is the point of this? "You thought Joey might have a tumor, but he doesn't. Okay." *Clap, Clap* The thought that some people would read this and think that almost kept me from writing this. But I'm sharing this with you all anyway, because of this truth God made real to me: fear is a liar.
For me the lie was, "your son and your happiness are too good to be real. It's all about to be taken away." But God doesn't work like that; God doesn't love like that. "For the Lord will not cast off forever, but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not afflict from his heart or grieve the children of men." Lamentations 3:31-33
God takes no delight in seeing me (or my son) suffer. He doesn't cast fear in my heart and pull up a chair and say, "let's see how she handles this one." Instead, He fights my fears with His truth. And the truth is, "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:21
That song has crept in my head more times in the past month than I want to admit. And sometimes it actually makes me angry. I don't want that song to be a theme for me. But God is showing me it needs to be on my heart. The message is one I need to be reminded of - daily. Because things are going to happen to Joey (and others I love) that I can't control. And while all I want to do is hold him and let him know how much I love him, I can't always protect him. The thing God has reminded me of is Joey was His long before he was born into the world as my son. And He knows every cut, scrape, and bruise Joey will ever have. And most importantly, He loves Joey far more than I can understand.
Whatever the struggle, I hope God continues to anchor me to His promise: "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7
I'm far from a perfect person, and even more imperfect parent. We are so blessed to have Joey, and I take for granted that he is as healthy and happy as he is. It's easy to have a "sound mind" when all is well. But I know there will be days when that doesn't come easy. I know there will be more bumps in the road; more lies that I will have to seek God's truth to combat. But I hope I keep this lesson close to my heart.And I hope somehow, this helps you with whatever fear you may have.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."
2 Corinthians 1:3-5
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