She was 6 lbs. 8 oz. of perfectness. Big brown eyes. Dark hair that covered her entire head. Long “piano fingers”, as we like to call them. Clara Esther Little.
It was love at first sight. Looking at this sweet baby, you would never know what it took to get her here, but we did.
It took trust. It took hope. It took a true miracle.
When Clara was born, I had a scheduled c-section. I had already been in this type of operating room before… twice. I had an uneasy feeling within which turned to difficulty breathing and in the end,vomiting. I knew something wasn’t right. But we proceeded forward. In the end, the complications were so great that it was obvious that God’s hand was in the whole ordeal. Seven hours later, with 17 new units of blood in my body, I ended up in ICU. God saved my life that day and I can honestly say I do not take that miracle for granted. The doctors and nurses all said they were shocked that I was alive and really should not have made it. I’m not surprised. There were so many praying. And I am in the hands of the One who made me.
But for some reason, I have a hard time always applying this blind faith to my Molly. In two weeks, Molly will be having an experimental, 15 hour surgery that will involve the most important part of her body to survive. And when I allow myself to go there, my whole being is enveloped in this fear that November 6th may be the last day I lay eyes on my precious girl. You see, surgery is just not surgery to our family anymore. For Peter, it’s waiting in a cold,quiet room for hours, holding his new baby girl, wondering if her mother will make it out. For me, it’s knowing that things are going wrong and with tears in my eyes begging the anesthesiologist to make sure I wake up moments before she puts the mask over my mouth.
But for God, surgery is another way to show His power. His presence. His glory. I try so desperately to bring myself to that realization when my mind wanders to the other side. But I can’t will it on my own. I can’t wish away my fears and anxiety. I can only run to truth. And truth tells me,
“For I the LORD thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.”
He’s going to help us get through this. He will help the doctor as he masterfully does this procedure. He will help Peter and I as we wait all day to hear what the outcome is. He will help Molly to breath, heal, awake. He will help others see He is a God that can do all things.
I can’t promise that fear will not creep up again. I’m being realistic in the fact that I am human and this is a natural emotion. But I am so very grateful that we as a family do not have to be alone. What an amazing thing that the God of all things knows every small detail and is working things for good. (Romans 8:28)
So this morning, I breath. I rest in the fact that He’s got this. And Molly is in the best care of the Greatest Physician ever… Jesus.
Written October 23, 2014