Wade’s Birth & Embracing Chaos.
*A quick heads up: In this post, Phil discusses a few specifics related to Wade’s progress + outcomes. For families walking through pregnancy complications, NICU stays and/or specifically a Bladder Outlet Obstruction diagnosis, please take care. We have learned a lot about the complexities of interacting with other families walking these roads. If today isn’t the day you need to absorb another family's/another baby’s progress- thank you for putting this aside and listening to your gut. We love you and a part of that is loving, thoughtful, healthy boundaries.
“This feels like a dream.” Three times, Erin and I spoke those words to one another. The first was 17 weeks ago in the cramped, fluorescent lit office where we first learned that something was wrong. Heads swirling, legs weak, we sat in the room and in disbelief as our perfect idea of what pregnancy and being parents was supposed to be crumbled before our eyes. We silently pleaded with God, reality, existence that this wasn’t real.
The second time was 15 weeks later after our final team meeting referenced in our last post. This time our disbelief came at the good news of Wade’s lungs. After months of anxiety and stress over aspects that we have no real control over, we had really good news. Our doctors were jumping for joy with us. “This feels like a dream,” uttered between sobs of relief and hope.
The third time was this morning. We are here at the end of the road mapped out for us 17 weeks ago. Tomorrow we get to meet Wade after 37 weeks and 4 days. We get to deliver at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital. We will be in a NICU room filled with technology developed by brilliant people. A team of world class doctors helping Wade everyday. A new phase beginning in Wade’s care process. We calmly speak, “This feels like a dream,” as we start our last day of just us two.
This is our reality. It’s not one we can stir awake from or meditate away. One thing I’ve been reflecting a lot on is the idea that God doesn’t give us what we can’t handle. Growing up, I was privileged enough to believe that, as if we had any real control over our life. After talking a lot with my therapist about this train of thought, I think I am comfortable calling BS on that idea. Our reality is one where a medical emergency can completely upend our life, jeopardize the life of our child, threaten our small business, eliminate our income & savings, uproot where we live and take us away from our community of friends. This is too much to handle. But I don’t think it’s something that God “gave” to us or even “allowed”.
We live in an unjust world; we live in chaos. “This feels like a dream.” Yet I believe we are meant to embrace the chaos of life. It’s too much to handle, yes, but by embracing it, we give up trying to control it. So much of our anxiety and stress and depression over the last four months has been out of our unsuccessful grasp at control. Sadness over losing control of our ideal pregnancy and birth. Mourning our feeble attempts to fix what’s already set in motion. None of it works. Time and time again, we’ve been reminded to release control and to unclench our fists, thus experiencing God more fully. To look at our scary, too-much-to-handle reality and have no other choice but to take another step in.
That’s what we continue to strive to do as we are less than 24 hours away from meeting Wade and starting this next chapter. In the last week, we’ve had two separate events where we thought Wade was arriving a little early. We’ve been joking that those were our trial runs but the truth is they were extremely helpful moments for us in learning that we are ready for this. Both times as we rushed to Children’s, we felt an overwhelming sense of peace and lack of control. Two final and gentle reminders of God saying, “You guys fully let go yet?” Probably not all the way but we’re trying.
We are ready. We are waiting in anticipation. We embrace this chaos.