One Week // Looking Back

Yesterday afternoon I sat down and pulled up the pictures from Elias' birth onto my laptop. I sat there and the tears flowed. Such precious photographs of our boys first moments of life. Moments I missed... moments where he himself was not faring so well. Precious, private pictures that do not feel right to share. They will adorn the pages of his scrapbook, and forever be imprinted on my memory. The scenes are too raw for me to plaster across the internet. So many emotions wrapped up still in the events of last weekend... I think I'm still in a state of shock to some degree. When every Midwife and Doctor you meet looks horrifiedly at you and says "I've just read your notes... I can't believe that happened to you" you realise that the events of last weekend were traumatic, and therefore its OK to feel traumatised by them.

And I do. And that makes me feel a little lost.

I've always prided myself on being someone who has things together... who can maintain a steady ship through rough storms. I'm an optimist and a pragmatist, two qualities which have enabled me to hold my head through some pretty rough stuff.

But ultimately, I'm a Christian. Standing on the firm foundation that is Christ. And so when I'm floundering, feeling lost and a little traumatised... when my optimism and pragmatism fail me which they do, and they will... It's OK to crumble;  because he has me. In fact, crumbling into him is the best place for me to be.

There is so much comfort in that.

There were so many beautiful, wonderful moments in the horror of last weekend... and it's those memories I'm trying to cling to...

Not the guilt of missing the birth of my own baby.
Not the horror of coming round on your bathroom floor surrounded by about 15 medical staff shouting "Code Red!"

Not the trauma of being opened up for section, sewn back up again, and then reopened a few hours later in a different hospital.
Not the heartache of not being able to see your baby for the first ten hours of his life.
Not the "What if's" and the "if onlys"

Instead I want to remember the kindness of the midwives who looked after me so well...
The donors who saved our lives on Saturday as the litres of blood I lost were replenished...
The fact that I was in hospital when the horrifying events unfolded
My husband who made it in time and stood by my side the whole time I was awake.
The fact that the Lord allowed events to unfold so that in the end I was unable to have the intrusive surgery which we thought was necessary, but in the end wasn't.
The fact that despite all the evidence, my placenta came away intact and without difficulty.
That my baby boy, wired up and incubated, eyes closed since birth, opened his eyes when he heard my voice for the first time. Such a precious moment.
The NNU staff who cared so well for our baby boy
That despite not being able to feed him until he was a day old, Elias took to feeding really well.

The wonderful midwife assistant who sat with me, cried with me and shared her own very similar story.
That despite being born at less than 35 weeks gestation, our boy is fighting fit.

And when I look at it like that, I'm so very, very grateful. It puts the guilt and the horror and the trauma and the heartache and the 'What ifs' and 'If onlys' into perspective.

There was so much at stake on Saturday... so much could have been lost. So much nearly was lost.

And yet here we both are... me and my littlest boy. Living to tell the tale.

There is much for me still to work through. Much to get my head around. Many more tears to be cried...

And yet I can see so clearly that the Lord kept those promises he whispered to me on those dark hospital nights...

"Stand still and see how I will deliver you."

"Be still and wait."

" Look to me, daughter, and trust me"

I can look back at last weekend and reel in the questions, and the 'whys' and the shock of it all... or I can look forward, clinging to God's promises, revelling in his protection and not allow the trauma to steal the joy of these early days with our beautiful, miracle baby.

I choose joy. I choose to delight in life. I choose to savour our newborn Son.

Because Jesus takes the guilt, the trauma, the heartache. He lifts my burderns and slings them to a cross on Calvary and puts them to death as he dies and shouts "It is finished!"

And he rises from the dead. From death, comes life. From pain, comes a future.

And our little Easter baby will forever be a reminder of that.

The birth of glorious, wonderful life in all its fullness!

Happy one week birthday Elias!