03 September 2009
Six years ago today, I was lying in a hospital bed in the maternity ward, exhausted from a VERY quick birth. I was so anemic, I couldn't raise my head up to eat. My dear mother sat by my bedside and fed me my turkey sandwich. And we were the only two in the room. That precious bundle we had waited so many months, was somewhere else in the hospital complex. Sitting on the table in front of me was a picture of a chubby, adorable baby, with countless tubes, monitors, needles, and other paraphernalia strapped to him. And the words still ringing in the air, "He's not responding the way we want him too. We think it is better to transfer him to Children's Hospital."
Our family spent the day separated from one another. Heath and my Dad stayed by our son's side, watching him being tested time and again, and never getting any answers. Mom and I quietly sat in my room, completely rocked to the core by the days events. The worst part of the entire day, was when the hospital needed room for more births, and asked if I would mind moving to one of the observation rooms, "since it's just you and no baby in this room."
I could go on for a very long time about the next 17 days. My amazing mother-in-law, Sue came and lived at our house for those three weeks, and took care of my three older children, while I spent my days hovering at the hospital. Our little gift was put on ventilator three different times, and I lost count how many times he needed small amounts of oxygen, feeding tubes went with the vent.
The joyous day came when our six and a half pound son, Heath Jr., was allowed to come home. We spent the entire winter in a quarantine of sorts. They did not know what had caused all his problems, so they were sure that a minor cold could very well be deadly. It was a rainy September day when I put our son in the car and drove him home (His father was home, sick).
I look at my never ending ball of energy this morning and cry fresh tears. Tears of joy, of appreciation, of love. Tears that my Father knows and understands. For He was there, healing my son, healing my heart, holding my husband up. So rejoice with me today. Rejoice for six years. Rejoice for a God who loves us. Rejoice for the Father who holds us. Again I say it. REJOICE!