From the time I began playing with Barbie dolls, the one steady script I followed as closely as my dolls was to have twins. I told everyone I knew that when I grew up I was going to be the mother of twins, and boys at that.
My first pregnancy wasn’t in several ways as I had prayed for or planned. When I found out I was pregnant, I was thankful and bursting with joy. All was well for the first seven months and two weeks, but then a very unwelcome incident occurred. While at home, my water broke, I was horrified; I got to my phone and called my best friend (who happened to live across my alley behind my house). I told her something wasn’t right, and I needed her to come over fast. Only a few seconds passed and she was in my house. I didn’t even have to say a word; she saw the pool of liquid at my feet. She rushed me to the emergency room, and the staff had me hooked up to monitors, and was running all kinds of tests.
My friend never left my side, tears streamed down my face continuously, I don’t think I have ever been as scared or felt so helpless. She called family, and let them know what was happening, and still tried to comfort me. The good Lord planned it for her to be by my side, and from the depths of my soul I know this is true. As the tests results were being read, my doctor made the decision that the baby and I needed to go to a hospital with specialists, and before I knew it I was in an ambulance on the way to Wichita. Upon arriving there, another battery of tests began, and it was determined that I was to remain there and in bed, the longer I was able to carry my baby the better his chances were. Two weeks passed and that was all, the small amount of fluid that still remained around my baby left me. Quickly, after that the contractions began, and the doctors decided I was to get an epidural, just in case during natural delivery a problem occurred. So that was quickly done, soon after, my son was born, hearing him cry was the best sound I ever heard.
Not much later I was taken to be with my baby. He was so tiny, and the most precious gift I had ever seen. He was hooked up to many tubes, with monitors, and in an incubator. I only got to touch him and caress him, at that time. After several days, I got to hold him close to me, and he was doing so well, but that didn’t last long, many complications just seemed to bombard my little cowboy (that was my nickname I gave to him). He was such a fighter, and he tried to stay, but it wasn’t meant to be. I was given the opportunity to hold him after he passed away, and I held him just as close as possible. I gave him back to one of the nurses and just started running as fast as I could. My vision blurred by my tears, I stopped under a tree and just fell to my knees. I lost all track of time, but I knew I had been there in deep sorrow for hours. I sat back up against the tree and it was like someone just wrapped their arms around me, a calmness engulfed my whole body, even though I hurt more then I ever had before, my mind cleared, and I realized, this just wasn’t the right time. I was blessed to have him in my life for the 16 days I had with him, but it was meant for him to go back home, and that this was just an obstacle for me to learn how to deal with. God had his reasons for not leaving him with me, and one day it may all become clear to me. Then the realization of what I have heard many say “God doesn’t give us more then that which we can handle.” As time passed, I became stronger, and felt He had something else in store for me.
