days of grace

The windows are open and there’s laughter and clanking of tricycles outside. It sounds idyllic, doesn’t it? This moment actually is – but our morning was anything but that. I actually sent Grant a text around noon telling him to keep his expectations low – because all had done that morning was sit in the recliner with a fussy infant, and fight a control battle with my 3-yr-old. This day, in many ways, is a snapshot of all of our typical days in one. The struggle of the morning, the peacefulness of the afternoon – these are all part of our days.

On my kitchen counter, I still have a copy of Elijah’s birth report. I could pack it away for record-keeping later (but I’d probably forget where I put it), but part of me just isn’t ready to put it away yet, because it’s such a reminder to me of God’s faithfulness through that time of life. The night they decided to go ahead and do my c-section, my white blood cell count had spiked and they felt like there was potential risk of infection. I had also been feeling crummy, but it was hard to distinguish if it was really a problem or just the result of sitting in a hospital bed for over a week and half.

For some reason that I can’t clearly remember right now, I went under general anesthesia for the surgery. It was awful – being knocked out for his birth, and trying to manage the pain afterward – but that in and of itself was God’s mercy. I had prayed and prayed that Elijah would come out crying, and the report says he didn’t. In fact, he wasn’t even breathing. But if you keep reading the report, it tells about the various interventions by the medical team and how much better he was doing by his 5 minute APGAR, and that, too, was God’s mercy.

So were our days in the NICU after that, and so are our days now. Full of grace.


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