That night. Part 5

I was left with strict instructions to get some rest. And sleep. Because obviously that’s the easiest thing to do when your brand new baby is taken to an entirely different city and you have no idea what’s going on. So instead I finish my soup & try pumping with the hand pump the nurses gave me. It’s unsuccessful. I grab my phone and start reading through all of the texts from my friends. Encouraging me . Loving me. Reassuring me.

The tv is free to use after 10 pm, so I turn it on in an attempt to do something mindless. It doesn’t help.

I get a text from my best friend. To hear that she wishes she could be with me. Praying with me. Telling me she might not understand what's going on, but POSITIVE that He is in control. That He is holding me. Holding Emma. Holding Mike. He is sovereign and faithful and I need to cling to that. The song lyrics to Take Heart by Hillsong. Oh how badly I needed to hear them. Words that would become a powerful presence over the next month. 

so take heart. let his love lead you through the night. hold onto hope. and take courage again…

I’m a complete mess. This is when I am forced to face what is going on. I am forced to decide how I’m dealing with it. What my reaction will be.

It’s anger. It’s despair. But as I lay there, all alone, listening to the mom in the next room hushing her precious gift, I can do nothing else but cry. And question why this is happening.

Mike texts me at 1:37 am telling me they are at the hospital. I don’t remember what we said to each other.

I try falling asleep but I am awake every hour. With a racing mind. A racing heart. I turn on some music and pray. Loudly. I scream out. Literally scream. I’m sure the rooms next to me weren’t thrilled with me that night.

If I only remember one thing from that night, it’s the doubt. Oh how badly I wish it wasn’t that, but it was. Doubt that my God would save my girl. Doubt that He would heal her. Doubt that any of this was actually some strange dream that I would wake up from. My heart was broken. Completely. I was struggling and hanging on by a thread. Waiting to hear that a miracle happened. That E was fine & this wasn’t happening.

I am embarrassed that my reaction wasn't complete dependence on Him from the start... I want to tell you that I never doubted. I never yelled at God in anger. I never let fear overcome me. But I can't.. I let the enemy gain control over my head. My heart. I wasn't strong. I was weak. I'm supposed to be this example of true faith. And I'm not.

I try pumping again at 4 am. I get some yellow stuff, colostrum.. but not enough to even drop from the pump to the bottle. I send my friend Sara a text. Knowing she won’t see it until the morning. Feeling frustrated that I can’t even pump the right way. Just another let down of the past 24 hours.

A nurse comes into my room to give me the rhogam shot. Emma had a positive blood type & mine is negative. This shot helps prevent issues with future pregnancies. The nurse doesn’t know what’s going on & says let me turn the light off for you so you can get some rest before your little one comes back in the morning. I nod. Not even sure how to explain anything.

Mike texts me at 6, saying he got to spend 30 minutes with E once they got her settled. Then he and his mom slept, on and off, in the overnight rooms in the NICU. The doctor told him that she’s improving but still has a long road. Uphill road.

He sends me pictures. Images I wish I could erase. How is this God’s plan? How is it His plan for this little tiny baby to have such a traumatic entrance into this world? Isn’t it already of a shock to go through delivery, and then to be whisked away from her mama & hooked up to machines? I don’t get it. I remember crying. Sobbing so uncontrollably. Trying so hard to cling to His truth. His promise. That He will lead me through the night.

Because He did. Even if I was struggling with doubt & anger, He brought the morning.

The night had ended. The hardest night, so far, had ended.

to be continued…