I remember.

Some have asked me for warnings on these kinds of posts, and I’m not sure you’ll need those Kleenex, but you might.  I’m feeling it today.

Over the last 5 days, I was informed about a Minister of Music in Nags Head whose family was facing something very serious:  His wife has Cystic Fibrosis and was awaiting a double lung transplant when she found out she was pregnant.  As of this week, at 24 weeks, their precious angel Gwyneth Rose has entered the world.  Both are on vents, both in ICU.  I’ve been reading their story and I feel strangely close to them, even though I’ve never met them or had any correspondence except for a couple of comments on their blog.

In reading and looking at the pictures posted, I remember how tiny Abby was and the feelings that I had the first time I walked in the NICU.  It was the absolute scariest place I’d ever entered in my life.  Yet, the nurses were so encouraging and loving and did their best to make it a happy, joyous place!  I was still very sick the first time I went in and only got to go in because I had forced myself to get out of the bed (with the complete support of a nurse since I couldn’t walk) to “prove” that I was well enough.  They wheeled me in covered in blankets and I didn’t even scrub in because I didn’t have the strength to lift my arms.  Josh had been in many times (she was already 2 days old when I saw her first), so he was lighthearted and conversing with the nurses.  I sat there debating whether or not to tell him to wheel me back out.

Abby’s bed had a big red light on top of it.  She was in the closest “pod” to the front.  Later I found out that they were situated in order of most critical.  She stayed there for the duration.  Every time a stat changed, that big red light flashed and an alarm sounded.  She was SO small.  The nurses tried to tell me what was happening, but I couldn’t hear them over all the beeping!  I remember for the next few days, each time I went in got a little easier, but it was the weirdest thing… I wanted to go and hated to, too.

And of course, I remember vividly the morning that the doctor’s called and said we needed to come right away.  I don’t know that there is a place more open to prayer and faith than the NICU.  That morning, as my entire family joined us, I don’t recall the sounds of the alarms, or even the other babies’ beds, or the nurses… except for Tina (Tina cried as hard as we did).  But I’ll never forget the sounds of prayer, some in the Spirit, the “dedication service” of my precious daughter, and rejoicing through tears that day as we held Abby and submitted her LIFE to God once last time.

I guess the reason I write all this is that I know what this Daddy is going through, and with God’s grace, in the coming days or weeks, his wife will get to see their precious baby for the first time.  I pray that the outcome for this family is different than it was for mine, but I also pray for God’s peace as they journey through this time in the NICU. 

Will you pray for them, too?  I don’t know that there could be anything more trying than waiting as your wife and daughter are literally clinging on to life.  Pray.

You can find the link to their blog under “Kindreds” on the left side of my page.