His Story Bleeding in Mine

Lailey, only eleven days of life tries to cry but rather than the infant sound there is silence. Only the pigment of her skin changing cold blue indicates she cannot breathe. She arches her back, her hands flail in angst, her cry unheard. I cry out, “LORD help!” A call to 911, they are in route. Her breath is being robbed therefore mine is too. She finally gasps for air and her wail is heard. Something isn’t right still. Her breathing labored and her chest raspy and it’s been getting worse for days.

 

I poor out my body, my soul, my tears within hospital walls for four days. Begging God for help on knees bent in bathroom floor and a heavy head hung over my baby now tangled in wires, feeding tube lines, tape and bruises from IV attempts. She has endured many levels of pain at just a few weeks old with needles and scopes traveling down her nose and chest and the weighty hands of holding her wailing body down. All within me longs to comfort her with my breast but I cannot. We are told milk is going in her airway and lungs. I am spent. Pouring tears, pumping milk, holding her all hours of the night. I am dried out. Forcing myself to eat and drink. Information upon information on how to do all this at home and my eyes can barely stay open  Paper work and packets keep coming and I have no idea when we will ever have the time to read it all. I struggle to breathe deep. I too, gasping for air. Groping for calm in anxiety dressed black. I know this anxiety from my past.

Jesus, in the garden breathing some of his last pleas to the Father. Jesus on His cross, breathless at times, lifting Himself up through the nails to gasp a single breath. He cries out to God too. “take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." Luke 22:42. Lailey’s breathless cry, my breathless cry, Jesus’ breathless cry. His story in ours.

I cradle Lailey sun up to moon down. Jesus needed a mother to cradle His infant frame and I feel I am as needy as Lailey. Jack talks extensively to nurses and doctors, reads me scripture, prays. He gets me water, snacks, he stays with Lailey during testing when I can't bare to watch. My husband, strong when I am weak, cradles me as I cradle our daughter and Christ holds us together. Jesus desperately needed to be held by His heavenly Father too. And I know more deeply His story now bleeding in mine.

My mother, Lailey's Granmommi, cups my face, looks me straight in the eyes and assures me, "Emily, I am NOT leaving. I am NOT leaving." She has raised three girls of her own but now chooses to stay and enter our story. She tends to the boys, carpools, makes trips to the hospital, runs errands, cooks, comforts, cares for my home and me. She learns the steps. She takes middle of the night feedings, goes with me to every doctor appointment. She lives Christ next to us. Jesus was not alone, the angels ministered to Him, the disciples walked along side. John the one who loved, Mary who wept over Jesus anointing his feet, Martha who served, the Father and Spirit who dwelled within Him never leaving or forsaking. In this I know more how Jesus needed others and how He knows I need others too. My family, my mom, our church, our friends, prayers of so many. His story in mine.

This pouring out, just as Jesus poured out for us – every step a giving of Himself toward the cross, the giving of Himself toward the poor, the outcast, the sick, the children. I know His pouring out more deeply now. And in this I understand how He knows my weariness and He knows how spent and dry I feel, for He was spent and weary too. His story bleeding more within me.

And I can’t accept it. I clamp my fist tight just as Lailey does and I tell God, “No! I can’t handle it.” I scream, “Why? Why does life have to be so difficult?” “I can’t do it, I can’t do THIS.” I yell at God letting Him know his mistake. I am fallen. Sinful. I do not receive my cup. I push it away. I do not want to drink it.

HE is so patient, so tender with me and I start to see Him more. In the midst of this sour drink I know more deeply how Jesus welcomed His bitter cup. How He took it hands wide open welcoming the nails. How He walked straight into His sorrow, His sour wine, His cross. He did not push it away. He did not sin. He did not question His Father’s will. He bled perfect love. So I see all the more clearly my desperate need for His story which bleeds FOR me!

............

Lailey's tube was able to be removed Wednesday, April 29th. What we thought would take 6 weeks only lasted 7 days. If I thicken my breast milk with powder the milk stays down and does not aspirate.We were given another way out, Christ was not.
Lailey has what is called Laryngomalacia - click for more info.

We are praying she will gain healthy weight and outgrow her condition and not need surgery.

Medical supplies are now bath toys for our boys!!!

"Taste and see that the Lord is Good. Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!"

Psalm 34:8

We HAVE tasted, we HAVE seen.