"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.