The Long Update, part 3, NICU

I cannot describe the turmoil I was in through words that fully express what I was feeling.  I was walking away from my wife, when I know she needed me the most, to go see the little girl that I have been dreaming of and praying over fervently for the last nine months.  Once I was scrubbed in, I was taken to Zoey’s room.  As the curtain was moved out of the way, my heart began to melt.  What I saw was my little girl, bundled up.  She was as calm as could be, as if she was saying “don’t worry daddy, we’ve got this”.  A nurse that was sitting on the couch stood up and asked my name.  I somehow uttered out the words (while holding back tears), “My name is Michael, I am Zoey’s father.”  With that little statement, Zoey began to cry - the sweetest sound going right into my ears, blasting though my heart and ripping into my soul.  I could not hold back the tears as I walked over to her NICU crib and looked down on her sweet little face.  I cried to her, “Zoey Kathryn, it’s me, Daddy, I am here, it is ok…” and the nurse (Lindsey) told me it was more than ok for me to touch her.  So, with a shaking, tear soaked hand I reached out and let my finger caress her face, and she stopped crying instantly.  This brought a fresh new wave of tears to my face, and short of collapsing to the floor, I let it overcome me.  Lindsay, in a very consoling tone, told me that things would be ok… and talked through my tears to let me know what was going on with our little girl. 

Zoey was born with a bony deformity across her forehead, which caused her lower forehead (the tops of the eyes) to be pushed back, as well as her nose.  She had some issues with her hands and feet, and that is where I stopped listening.  There seemed to be a wave that came over me, and though I knew that these issues were there, I could not see them anymore.  All I could see was the beautiful face of my daughter, eyes struggling to open to see me… and I felt her hand grab onto my finger.  My heart exploded with love that I did not know I could have, all for this little girl.

There were countless tests that they needed to run, but I was not going anywhere yet.  As they began the x-rays, I was stuck in a mixture of laughing and crying as she fussed because people were messing with her.  Each time that she started to cry, I would just call her name and she would try to turn her head to look where I was… and stop crying.  Right behind the x-ray was an ultrasound tech.  Zoey, ladies and gentlemen, DOES NOT like being cold… and that gel… is so cold.  She pitched a fit, so much so that I somehow squeezed next to her, talked to her (while crying again) and she grabbed my finger yet again… and stopped crying.  She was so content to hear me, see me and feel me that she was fine for the rest of the countless ultrasound images that were taken. 

Next thing that I knew there was a man behind me.  He was the hospital chaplain.  He spoke to me as I cried about the fact that he had just come from talking to my wife and that they had mentioned that he should come talk to me.  We talked for a little while about how some day, when I become a chaplain that I am going to have to see things like what I am having to go through right at this moment.  It is in those times that I will be called upon to minister to those going through it.  But it is this time, right now, that my job it to be ministered to… to be strong… for both my baby girl and my wife.  It was in that moment that a phrase came to my mind, that has become like a mantra; “God give special children to those that He knows will love them and take care of them the best.”  It was at that moment that I thanked God for the beautiful gift that he had given us. 

I hated to leave her room, but I knew that my wife needed me.  The chaplain took me back to Kati’s labor room, where I told her about how beautiful that our daughter was, and I showed Kati a picture from the NICU.  The chaplain prayed over us and for the team working on Zoey. 

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The Long Update, part 4, the nightmare fades

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The Long Update, part 2, life begins... like a nightmare