The First Time I Held You

           David was two weeks old when I held him for the first time. For two long weeks I anxiously waited for that sacred moment. To wrap my arms around his tiny body and claim him. Mine.
          Still connected to multiple wires and IV's, he was placed in my arms and we shared our first embrace. 
          At first it felt awkward as the nurse re-positioned him multiple times. His neck needed to be properly supported so his airway would remain open and the web of wires connected to him needed to remain intact. Nervously I watched the monitors to ensure there weren't any drastic changes in his heart rate or oxygen level.
          All around me, from different angles, Rob furiously clicked the camera.
          Caressing my precious bundle confirmed I was a mother. With his heart beating close to mine, I held him for as long as I was allowed. He belonged to me and I wanted him to feel this bond. For a few, short moments he opened his eyes and I was there to look back at him.
          His little person warmed the left side of my chest. My body held onto this sensation even after I set him down. When I arrived home I continued to feel a warm spot in my chest from where his head had been resting--a physical reminder of that precious time we spent together.
           David means beloved. That was the right name for my baby. I couldn't imagine loving him more than I did at that moment.

Angels Watched Over Him

"Owing to their innocence and purity, little children enjoy unique privileges with regard to angels. In fact, little children are so significant to God the Father, Jesus Christ and the kingdom of God on earth that it is possible that they sometimes enjoy the presence of angels."

(Parry, D. W. [2013]. Angels: Agents of Light, Love and Power. Deseret Book Company: Salt Lake City.)

     I dreaded night time in the hospital. Those nights were so long and lonely. I'd wake up unexpectedly to find myself alone in some strange, uncomfortable bed, surrounded by darkness.

        From the adjacent rooms of the maternity ward I heard the cries of newborn babies. I imagined those babies snuggled in their mothers' arms. And then the tears would start to well up inside of me. My whole body shook as they rushed down my cheeks in a flood of anguish and grief--my precious newborn was on life support in another part of the hospital.
        I couldn't stand to be away from him. I wanted so badly to be able to be able to comfort him. To hold his little hand and stroke his head and watch him sleep and as I silently prayed for him.
        I was his mother. He needed me. And I needed him. 
        I needed to be at his side to help him heal and grow stronger and he needed to feel my love and know I was there for him.
        But my body was too weak. Still recovering from severe complications, I was unable to get out of the hospital bed by myself. So I lay there. Stuck. Helpless. Trapped.
        My baby needed me and I couldn't be with him.
        Was he also alone in the dark?
        The next day I found the comfort I was seeking in a scripture. Marcelle, my mother-in-law, brought over a copy of the Church News for me to read while recuperating. In a quiet moment I picked it up and there at the top of the front page in bold print I read: 
       3 Nephi 17:24
       "And as they looked to behold they cast their eyes toward heaven and they saw angels descending out of heaven as it were in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled with fire; and the angels did minister unto them." 
       These words penetrated my being with a powerful force. It seemed as if that scripture had been written specifically for me at that time. The Spirit spoke this truth to my mind and to my heart--my baby wasn't alone, angels watched over his small, weak body. 

 

Weak Body, Strong Spirit

Real strength doesn't come from our physical bodies, it comes from our spirits. Even though our bodies may be physically weak, they house strong spirits.

Before David's birth, I wanted to know who he was. One night as I lay on my bed quietly pondering, I received some distinct spiritual impressions. I sensed he was a strong, determined, warrior-like spirit, similar to Teancum of old. I was told even though he'd arrive in a small, fragile body, he was a strong, mature spirit. I marveled at this information and imagined him one day serving a mission as a great spiritual warrior.

And then the awful complications of his birth. . .

. . . a stroke and oxygen deprivation.

When I saw my baby for the first time he was attached to life-support machines in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit(NICU). (I'd just been released from Intensive Care myself, and was now allowed to visit my baby.) He lay peacefully nestled amidst a maze of tubes and wires. At the center of all this medical equipment was the most perfect angel I'd ever seen.

The lights in the NICU had been lowered. Within this soft twilight, David's body shone. He was filled with light and radiated a warm glow. His eyes were closed, and he had a fine brush of light brown hair. Immediately I noticed his little upturned chin. It was Rob's chin, complimented by a cute button nose. I marveled at how long his toes were. So unlike my short, stubby ones. And each slender finger, so perfectly formed.

At 7.1 pounds and 20 inches he looked too big to have fitted inside me.

Could he really be mine?

Now that I'd seen him the thought of letting him go was even more unbearable. In all my attempts to imagine his face, I could not have conjured up a masterpiece so magnificent as the person who lay before me. My heart swelled. Seized with joy I felt the power of maternal love flood my being. Pure and strong.

My arms ached to hold him and my bosom longed to soak up the warmth of his being. But he belonged to all those machines and medical attendants.

I remembered the impressions I'd received prior to his birth--that he was a strong, determined, warrior-like spirit. I'd imagined him fighting great spiritual battles. But now I realized he was engaged in a physical battle as he fought for his life. I reminded myself even though his body was weak and fragile, it housed a strong, mature spirit. I determined to put my faith in this strength and prayed his spirit would triumph and remain with us in mortality.