Celebrating

Today we celebrate Aubrey's birthday.

It was five years ago on a Thursday much like this one that we found out that there was something terribly wrong with our baby girl's heart and she was delivered via emergency caesarian section at 7:00pm. By 8:30pm she was being life-flighted 140 miles south to the nearest neonatal intensive care unit. Daniel was being driven down by a friend while I stayed behind recovering from surgery. Even that day we had no idea the extent of "deformities" that was Aubrey's heart, but we knew enough to be scared.

Very, very scared.

Due to pain killers, the agony of it all didn't really hit me until the next day. It was also almost 24 hours after her birth before we knew more of the extent of the problems: Daniel called to tell me that after running tests the pediatric cardiologists in Syracuse were saying that Aubrey had a very complicated heart and would need a very complicated surgery at a very young age. I was spent, I was feeling very alone and helpless being so far away from all that was taking place, and I was terrified. I remember thinking that I needed to muster up more faith, but the truth is that the only thing I could seem to have faith to pray for was that she would live long enough for me to travel down and see her one more time.

Just one more time, God, I wept.

And I remember even as I cried out that desperate prayer feeling oh so thankful for the Body of Christ, for believers who I knew had more faith for my daughter than I did in those very broken moments.

In the days that followed, there were many tears. Many highs and lows. Many middle-of-the-night terrors. Many words of encouragement, cards, gifts, and visits from friends who drove in from all over to stand with us. Many hours of feeling like I was living some strange nightmare. Many reminders of faith.

And through it all, there was God.

I will bless the Lord at all times;
His praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul shall make its boast in the Lord;
The humble shall hear of it and be glad.

There were good reports and there were bad reports. Anyone who has ever been through medical challenges knows that is par for the course. I tried to take it all in stride, but really I just wished there was some way I could trade places with her.

Our little baby.

She had perfect skin, golden peach fuzz hair, big eyes. We named her Aubrey Colette: "noble leader; people of victory."

Why did she have to have a broken heart? And oh! why couldn't I just trade places with her? I wondered.

And my heart broke.

Yet even as I asked questions that had no answer, there was God.

I sought the Lord, and He heard me,
And delivered me from all my fears.
They looked to Him and were radiant,
And their faces were not ashamed.
This poor man cried out, and the Lord heard him.
And saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him,
And delivers them.

On October 4th, Aubrey was discharged. She hadn't had surgery and we brought her home without a single machine. Those days were heavy-hearted and wonderful ones all at once. Heavy-hearted because at that point we were still being told that we had a long road ahead of us and that surgery would almost surely be necessary within the next 6 months; wonderful because we were home, no longer torn between our 3 older children and the baby, no longer being separated from Aubrey each night, and having crossed the first hurdle of coming home for at least some time before an operation.

We prayed so much. For a miracle. For time. For growth. For health. For life.

And God was there.

Oh, taste and see that Lord is good;
Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!
Oh, fear the Lord, you His saints!
There is no want to those who fear Him.
The young lions lack and suffer hunger;
But those who seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing.

In the past five years, Aubrey has only had one hospitalization. As of 3 months ago, she is off every medication. Her heart is still jumbled, but it's working. You would never know she isn't the picture of health if you saw her today. Sure, she doesn't run as much as the other kids and sometimes when it's humid she starts to look a bit wan and blue around her lips and extremities, but that's it.

That's it!

If you had told me five years ago that we would be here today, I would have wept and wept and wept with relief and gladness. Today, just thinking of it, I cry tears of joy.

Still, I wouldn't erase one day of what we've gone through because there are great and mighty things the Lord has taught me through it all. And the greatest and mightiest thing is this:

He is here.

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears.
And delivers them out of all their troubles.
The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart,
And saves such as have a contrite spirit.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
But the Lord delivers him out of them all.
He guards all his bones;
Not one of them is broken.

Happy Birthday, Aubrey-girl! You are spunky, spirited, bright, and victorious!

 

Transitions

A couple days ago I claimed part of the yet unfinished guest room as a "nursery nook" for Elliot.

The plan when we broke through the second story of our home more than 14 months ago was to have both of the bedrooms we added (master bedroom and guest room/nursery combo) done by now, but as all projects go, things have taken longer and cost more than even our most conservative planning accounted for.

That's okay. Elliot doesn't know that the walls aren't painted, the baseboard isn't even purchased let alone installed, the window casings aren't in, and the flooring isn't sealed.

When I look at the space we carved out of the mess of wood, tools, and paint supplies that has resided in that empty half-finished room for the better part of a year now, I hardly know all that isn't finished. It's beautiful in its own growing-with-us sort of way.

The final steps in the moving process were to relocate the baby monitor from the window sill near my bed to the dresser in the next-door bedroom and then remove the bedding from the baby basket so that it could be put away in storage.

And I must confess that as I put the sheet and bumper in the washing machine, a big lump formed in my throat.

It's incredibly sad to me to think that he is done sleeping in this little bed of his, right near my own "big bed" (as Claire always refers to it, due to its height) and close enough that when I wake at night I can hear his gentle breathing. At the beginning of his life, he hated this bed and only wanted to be with me; as he has grown, it has become his favorite place to sleep, and he has slept so well in it that we have carried it all the places we may travel or visit in order to allow him this piece of home anywhere he may be.

He is beyond outgrowing it, though. His little feet have pushed his head right past the bumper and into the wicker many times, occasionally even leaving marks and often resulting in heartbroken awakening.

 

I've put this bed away five times before. Each time I've thought that surely I will never forget how my baby looked nestled within its little walls, safely tucked where I can reach my hand out any time of night and feel the gentle rhythm of their heartbeat.

The truth is that I do forget.

I do.

The other truth is I don't know how many more times, if ever, I will be wrapping a baby and settling him/her in this basket bed again. I'm a little too experienced to think we get to take things for granted.

And while one might think that I'm tired of "the baby thing," that perhaps it's old hat, or that I would be glad to put away these vestiges of early infancy, on the contrary, it gets harder and sadder each time.

Not to mention, regardless of what the future holds for me, I know that this baby, this little man-child, my very own Elliot Hale, will never sleep in that little basket bed again.

Oh, how much a mother's heart must let go of over the years.

So yes, the lumps form in my throat and my eyes burn with unshed tears and my insides ache.

And I think I have barely scratched the surface.