But let me tell you how this came about...
Lisa sent me the last few photos that she edited a couple of weeks ago now. When I saved them into my computer, this is what I saw on the side bar:
Now, obviously, that would be 'ironic' all on it's own, but the reason it caught me off guard is because the 3 photos she had just sent me were of us in the OR. The only photos I have of Rachel alive. Until now, every single photo I've shared has been after she went to be with Jesus. I never thought I'd ever share any of these photos because honestly, they feel way too sacred to let everyone see. But I want to tell you what was happening in this moment.
Probably around 2 weeks before Rachel's was scheduled to be born, I heard a story of this baby who had died. The mother held him on her bare chest for a while and he came back to life. The skin to skin contact with his mother had actually saved his life. I remember my sister telling me of this mom like it was yesterday and I stored that information away until the moment that they told me Rachel was not making effort to breathe on her own.
They brought her over to me, and just like with all my other babies, I quickly pulled my gown down to allow my baby skin to skin contact... except this time I was hoping it would save her life.
I wasn't in denial. I was pretty sure Rachel was going to die, and that I'd be going home empty handed. But I had hope. I trusted so fully in the God of all healing and miracles that I knew there was a chance. I knew it was possible that she could be healed. And I would be lying if I said I didn't have an expectation of the minimum amount of time I'd have with my daughter. I thought I'd have the day. I just wanted the day. 'Minutes' had not been in my vocabulary. I wanted a dash on her headstone.
So, I pulled my gown down remembering the woman whose baby came back to life and my God who could make it happen... and just like the woman in the bible who reached out to touch the fringes of Jesus' robe with faith that it could heal her, I held onto that last ounce of faith that this didn't need to be it for her. I stared at her and kissed her sweet little fingers over and over and just prayed that my skin could somehow hold that same healing power for her as the very bottom of Jesus' robe. That maybe my unmeasurable love and our strong connection would be like a defibrillator for her and instead of watching her slowly die, I would watch her come alive.
That didn't happen. And a minute at a time, I realized that she was leaving me. Every minute that passed tore at my heart and soul like nothing I'd had ever felt. But the unexplainable peace from God covered me in those moments. Every inch of my motherly being needed to do something for her. And I couldn't. I apologized and told her "I'm sorry pretty girl, I tried."
And I will never regret trying. I will never regret hoping. I will never regret falling to the ground and reaching for the fringes of Jesus' robe. And I'm not angry that he kept walking. Sure, I would have loved it if He had stopped in his tracks and turned and asked "who touched me" and then told me "your faith has made her well" - but it's okay that he didn't.
|Matt is holding her head up so I can see her face better. And before I cropped this pic, |
you can see Kim's (my nurse and now friend) hand on top of us. Thanks Meg for taking these pics.♥
Because I didn't realize it to the fullest in those moments, but I actually did get to watch her come alive. I witnessed my precious daughter dance into the arms of our Lord. She wasn't falling at his fringes, she was safe in his arms. She wasn't asking to be healed... she was already healed.
And tonight as I sit here, tears rolling like a river, I reach again for his fringes in hopes of healing for my heart....and I'm okay even though he seems to keep walking. Because she is worth every ounce of pain and even my biggest disappointments are a treasure. She is a treasure.
I can't wait to hold her alive again someday.