"In Between A Rock and A Hard Place"

When I walked through the hospital entrance tonight I was stopped by one of the security officers. Since it was after 9 I had to check-in. I showed her my special care nursery parent badge so I wouldn’t have to go through what can be a delayed decorum on security’s part to check my ID, type in my info, and write a visitor’s pass for me. As I flashed the badge she nodded with approval for me to continue to my destination, but only to stop me again. “The Neonatal ICU is this way sir,” she pleasantly said to re-direct my route. “I’m here to see two people,” I kindly responded. “My wife is in the Neuro ICU. I’m headed there first then on to the Neonatal ICU to see my son,” I said while walking away in frustration. I wasn’t frustrated with the officer. I know she was only doing her job to keep the hospital safe. I was frustrated with the words that’d just left my mouth. It was in my response to her that raw reality advancedly hit me in the face. The security desk is in the center of the hospital. Making a left takes you to the Neonatal ICU, and making a right takes you to the Neuro ICU. I was standing in the midst of what divided the distance between my wife and my son. I was standing in the epicenter of two extremes. I was standing at the midpoint of what separated my family. I was standing in between a son whose condition is steadily improving in one ICU, and a wife whose condition just took an unexpected drastic decline in another ICU. I was standing in between a rock and a hard place. 

This phrase we often hear, “in between a rock and a hard place,” has many definitions and interpretations. One being, “having only two very unpleasant choices.” That definition soundly sums up how I feel. Making the decision of who do I see first as I walk through the entrance is usually one I usually don’t even give thought to, but on this eve’s night of Christmas Eve it was one I struggled with. Although to the common mind it’s a simple physical decision of pivoting my foot right or left, it’s a tough emotional decision because when it comes down to it I don’t want to be here in the first place. Why am I in such a position to even have to choose? 

I take pride in being a man and doing what a man has to do no matter what, to take care of his family. I’ve done that as a husband in 2 and a half years of marriage…until now. And I haven’t been able to do it in my 2 weeks as a father. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I have no control over the situation. Seeing my wife suffer for 4 straight months in what’s been physical pain, emotional despair, and mental incapacity…and there’s nothing I can do about it. Seeing my son who I can only love on and care for in a limited manner and who I can sense is longing for the tenderness of a mother’s touch, but she’s incapable of giving it to him…and there’s nothing I can do about it. We’re a family of three now. I’m the provider and protector of the household. It’s my job to keep everyone safe, secured, and sheltered, but they’re not right now…and there’s nothing I can do about it. The only thing I can do is make the decision of who will I visit in the ICU first. 

That’s my life right now. I haven’t been able to clearly explain it in conversation with people when asked how I am doing. Venting through the pressing of these keys seems to be the best way I can be completely honest, and this is just the surface of what’s truly deep inside. The old Negro spiritual says, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.” I can relate. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen and am seeing. The trouble I’ve felt and am feeling. The trouble I’ve suppressed and am suppressing. The trouble I’ve endured and am enduring. Nobody knowing isn’t to anyone’s fault. It’s due to my life’s circumstance just being one so rare, peculiar, and unreal. 

I feel as if I’m a living example what it is to be “stuck in between a rock and hard place.” I know I won’t be stuck forever, but Lord knows I’ve been stuck for too long. Definitely not the Christmas Eve and upcoming Christmas Day I envisioned having over 4 months ago. But as the darkness of the night eventually has to be overtaken by the sunlight of day, so does trouble has to be eventually overtaken by victory. No matter how down and out I feel, I refuse to end anything I say or write in a defeated tone. Even within my deflated heart and soul, I will continue to rise, stand, and make the tough decision to turn right or left at the hospital’s entrance, hanging by a thread of hopeful strength that I pray still exists by time this is all over.  

My Plans and God's Laughs

Whether it was Heathcliff Huxtable guiding Theo, Denise, Rudy and the crew, Uncle Phil embracing Will, Carlton, Hillary, and Ashley or Carl Winslow encouraging Eddie, Laura and Judy, watching these men on my favorite TV shows when I was younger always made me excited at the chance of becoming a father. I anticipated my family of 4 or 5, living life as I envisioned and planned for us to. But as the old Yiddish proverb says, “Man plans, God laughs.”

God has certainly done much laughing in my life these past few months. Seeing my wife for the past 100 straight nights in a hospital bed were not my plans. Not being able to experience the simple joys of taking pregnancy pictures or participating in childbirth classes were not my plans. Having to spend 15 out the 28 weeks of this pregnancy battling a rare brain disorder that destroyed our comfortable equilibrium were not my plans. To have expectations of a normal healthy birth February 27^th be shattered by the bombshell of an involuntary alternative with risks December 3^rd were not my plans. Sitting in a room surrounded by a team of doctors fresh off a final evaluation leading them to break the unwanted unfortunate news to me that my first time having a child with my wife will be my last time having a child with my wife because removing the very anatomy that makes it possible for her to give life is the only way she can recover from this horrid disorder…were not my plans.

As I wait in this hospital room reflecting on everything that’s transpired these couple of months an hour before my life hits another milestone, I can’t help but think about one of the comments I’ve received most from people. “Wesley, I don’t see how you’re handling all of this so well. It's amazing.” My casual response has been, “I don’t see how I’m handling it so well either.” All night I thought about this mystery, determined (perhaps because nerves did not allow to sleep) to figure out a true answer. And what I’ve realized after all this time is that despite countless moments of frustration, sadness, loneliness, disappointment, and stress…overall my soul and spirit has been resting in the bosom of a divine peace and tranquility so great that even though this situation is before me, it has not held me.

Has it poked me? Yes. Has it touched me? Yes. Has it prodded me? Yes. But it has not held me. If it held me, depression would’ve caused my demise by now. If it held me, lost hope would’ve left me with a languished heart by now. If it held me, tears I’ve cried would’ve led to a tipping point so overwhelming it may have been impossible to come back from. The reason it has not held me is because I’ve been held by something else. God’s grace. And God’s grace is so robust that when held by it, there’s no room for you to be held by anything else.

Even though I may not be able to have a house full of children as I wanted like Heathcliff, Uncle Cliff, or Carl to support, lecture and raise, I’m yet beyond thankful for the one gift God has given me through a son I’m getting ready to meet soon. “Man plans, God laughs.” Just because God laughs at our plans doesn’t mean God abandons our plans. He only alters them. I’ll take God’s alteration over abandonment any day.

I’m looking forward to what the future holds. Prayerfully a future of complete recovery for my wife. A future of total health for my son. A future of greatness and favor for our family. A future where God continues to laugh when I plan, but within His laughing still comes blessings…even if it’s in a different form.

 

 

 

28 Straight Days 'In Sickness and in Health'

It’s been exactly a month. 28 straight days of hearing machines beeping and nurses flowing in every direction. 28 straight days of a tiny hospital room becoming our temporary place of residence. 28 straight days of not seeing improvement or even answer on if she will fully recover. 28 straight days of hearing her soft voice silenced. 28 straight days of seeing her beautiful eyes closed. 28 straight days of seeing needles infiltrate her arm and neck veins. 28 straight days of seeing a tube launched down her throat hearing the sound of air pumping into her lungs. 28 straight days of seeing her body mass change from normal to puffy to frail. 28 straight days of wondering how could our lives go from having so many great new things happening, to us being here. 28 straight days of seeing her lying in a bed hooked up to multiple contraptions in a helpless state…and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

When I repeated the words “In sickness and in health” over 2 years ago, I meant it with all of my heart. I just didn’t expect to have to act on it this early. Standing at the end of a hospital bed looking at my 28 year old wife on a respirator wasn’t supposed to happen. 90 years old, 80 years old, heck even 60 years old maybe. But 28 years old? No. Never in a millions year would I have thought we’d be here…but we are.

I’ve pondered on those vows I made on May 18^th, 2013. “In sickness and in health…” As I look back on it I realize they aren’t and shouldn’t be just a phrase repeated, but are and should be a promise remained true to no matter the timing or situation.

This is no doubt the toughest thing I’ve ever gone through in my life. My body is tired. My soul is weary. My spirit is weak. My mental is debilitated. But somehow someway I’m still standing. I’m still pushing. I’m still finding my way to this small room to be next to her trying my best to be optimistic telling myself as I whisper in her ear “We’re going to be alright.” Am I okay? No. Am I fine? No. Am I doing well? No. Am I weak? Yes. Am I angry? Yes. Am I unhappy? Yes. Am I questioning what God is doing? Yes. But if I give up I wouldn’t just be giving up on myself. I’d be giving up on her, I’d be giving up on our family, and I’d be giving up on God.

Despite what I see in front of me, even though I’m questioning Him I still have just enough faith that God has something brighter to be seen ahead of me. I made a vow to God and to Tanndra to love and not give up in sickness and in health. I’m making it my mission to excel on that promise not only because it’s my duty as a man of God and a husband, but even much so because I love her to time’s end and I simply wouldn’t want to do anything else but be here for/with her at this moment.

This experience has shown me something new and revealing. I thought there was no way I could love her any more than I did before all of this happened, but these 28 days have produced another level. It’s been 28 straight days of loving her even more as I see her love to fight for herself, us, and our family shown and felt even in an incapacitated state. 28 straight days of seeing just how cared about by others she is as a person and we are as a couple. 28 straight days of faith I’ve preached to others to have in misfortune, be put to the test for myself to have in my misfortune. 28 straight days of witnessing my life and ministry mature in a way I never knew could happen right before my eyes as each day continues to pass. 28 straight days of seeing a beautiful, intelligent, God-loving and God-fearing young woman physically fight the hardest battle of her life with each day ending in a small victory because she isn’t giving up. 28 straight days of anticipating the incredible testimony she will have that is going to bless thousands reaching beyond our known boundaries. 28 straight days of hearing the strong heartbeat of a precious gift that’s been inside her for four months and has endured this agony with her, yet is as resilient of a fighter as the two who produced him/her.

It’s going to be long journey ahead, but we have a fighting family…and we got this. #NMDAWontWin