11-19-2007
More Thankful a Decade Later
By Renae
A red, dwarfed baby fought for life kicking as doctors prodded and tested. Waiting for me to regain consciousness, my husband cheered from behind the prison of a window that kept him from caressing his newest love. Our 1 lb. 13 oz. neonate was whisked to Dallas in an ambulance. Dylan wondered whether he would see his son alive again, but a quiver of hope overshadowed fear when the doctor called,
He is strong and healthy, just small.
My strong, healthy son’s birthday is this week. He will be 10 years old. The panic that seized us a decade ago has been replaced with amazement and thanksgiving. Yet every time I see the disproportionate head, skinny arms, and transparent ribs of a preemie, I cry.
Instantly, I’m transported to the time my son resembled a bald, shriveled, old man surrounded by blinking, beeping monitors, wires, IVs, and a nurse telling me me not to rub my baby’s foot. “He needs a constant touch. Do you like to be tickled on your feet?” The abrupt words pierced my heart as I slowly absorbed the fact that my son was alive and sleeping in a warm, plastic house. I could not even care for him.
The tiniest fingers imaginable grasped mine as I prayed and sang quietly through tears,
The Spirit of the sovereign Lord is upon you
Because He has anointed you
To preach good news
He has sent you to the poor
To bind up the brokenhearted
To bring freedom to the captives
And to release the ones in darkness
This is the year
Of the favor of the Lord
How can I not believe there is a plan and purpose for Bug? He is our son of jubilee. His very name means shrewd fox who supplants the kingdom of darkness. He came through the shadow of death and shines brightly. For that I am most thankful.
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