"For You O Lord are a shield about me, You are the glory and lifter of my head. Psalm 3:3

"For You O Lord are a shield about me, You are the glory and lifter of my head. Psalm 3:3

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Double Doors

My Alice Elizabeth.
Today I remembered a little story about you.
A few months ago, you had stopped growing, for 8 weeks.  One Friday morning in June we drove to Children's Hospital for your surgery.  Removal of your ruptured tumor on your eyebrow and a stomach scope with biopsies in your stomach, esophagus, and intestines.
I held your tiny, lethargic body in the holding room.  You wouldn't smile or laugh.  We waited for the nurse to come and get us.
A little story of letting go of the control I actually don't have.  Trusting in Him for you, my sweet one.  There are mamas who endure much more and mamas who have different outcomes.
We know we are blessed and our hearts are beyond grateful.

I knew this moment would be hard as I watched the nurses come in and out of the double doors of the operating room, preparing.  I put on my scrubs and hat.  I've been through these heavy double doors many times.
I scrubbed in with my dad for surgeries for 5 years.  I've watched many babies come into this world.  I've been through these doors myself with a belly only to come out with layers of stitches...and the best gift in the world, my girls.  

On this morning, the double doors seemed heavier.  It was different.  One door swung open, a sweet nurse came. Her thick African accent warmed my soul.  Just a little token of I'm here from the Lord.  Thank you.
I carried you into the operating room.  A team of 6 doctors and 5 nurses surrounded the table.  Machines ready. Tools in place. Gloved arms folded across their chests.  They were ready for you.  I asked to hold you as they put you to sleep, they gracefully said yes.  The anesthesiologist placed the mask over your face and you drifted off into sleep.
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and a sweet voice say, "Okay mom, this is the hardest part.  I need you to lay her down on the table.  It's time to leave."
Lay her down?  It's time to leave?  My heart wasn't sure how to make my body move.
I kissed you and laid you down on the operating table and walked back through those silver double doors looking back over my shoulder as they surrounded your little body. They looked like a team of angels.
Tears ensued.
68 minutes later.  You were out of surgery.  Soon after, I was holding you in recovery.  You would be there for over 3 hours.  Babies and little ones all around us.  Some with mamas, others without.  Three babies around me were in DHS custody, no mama there to rock and nurse them as they woke up.  I wept.  I asked to hold them, nurse them.  Whatever I could do.
But I couldn't.
Back through a set of double doors, up elevators to our hospital room.  Thank you Father.

There is so much I am trying to process.  Things I want to remember and things I don't.
Today, we are watching 3 bumps on your chest and stomach.  Keeping an eye on them to see if it's nothing or to see if they are tumors. Multiple tumors would warrant multiple operations, our surgeon has said.
Our minds and hands will measure ounces of formula, administer hourly feedings, monitor bumps on your body.
And our hearts will grow in trust, drink in peace over fear, and wait in expectation.
Expectation that He is our authority and power.
One day at a time.

We know His healing power of restoration.  We've seen it.  Should we meet those double doors again, we will remember His overwhelming peace and comfort.  That He holds you, our Alice in His hands.
And how He loves you more than we will ever know.

1 comment:

  1. Sweet friend! Wishing I could be there to eat some of your homemade brownies and talk to you in your living room...we will be standing with you in prayer for the kind of peace only He gives; the kind we cannot understand to fill and overflow from your hearts as you wait and watch. He is holding you in His hands too!

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