To Almost Normal Feeling Days

Today is a beautiful, sunny, fresh smelling day. It has been 25 days since Andrew left us and days where I feel almost normal, light and somewhat gay are few and far between. For now, the fog has lifted from my mind and I am smiling at life. It is great to be alive!

A cousin of mine wrote to me yesterday and mentioned how ironic it was to learn that Andrew's gorgeous oak casket was crafted by the monks in Dubuque. She told me that her great aunt is a sister there at a Franciscan convent and has been for 60 some years. So naturally, when I went into the hospital suddenly in December after my water broke in the middle of the night at 31 weeks gestation, she informed the sisters of Andrew and I's need for prayer. Those wonderful women lifted up Andrew and I for the two weeks that we were monitored in the hospital as I laid there on bedrest to try to delay his birth for as long as possible. They held us up during their masses and other prayer times as I began to bleed due to the  placenta abrupting early. And I believe they were praying, along with numerous others, as the doctors wheeled me into the operating room and the doctor made the incisions needed to reach into my womb and gently pull out our darling, precious Andrew.

The anesthesiologist asked Mark, who had just arrived in the delivery room, if we were ready. We looked anxiously at each other and then quickly glanced at the doctor. "You mean . . ." we said with excitement and anxiousness, "your son is about to be born." Wide-eyed we look back at each other in unbelief. We had never had a baby this way so it was all so strange and new. We didn't know what to expect or think. But we were very anxious to see our precious little one for the first time. Then we heard a most beautiful sound. A small cry rang out.

Our eyes got even wider and began to tear up. Andrew cried. Andrew cried. We both began to cry with great joy. Our boy cried! He was breathing! It was a miracle! At 33 weeks, he was crying! Oh were we thankful and our hearts erupted in tears. Gosh were his cries music to our ears. And then we watched as his little form was taken to the special little heated bed where they would do the APGAR tests and clean  him. Oh gosh did he look so tiny. And oh was it wonderful to hear him crying! The doctors said he probably wouldn't be breathing when he came out, but he came out and announced he was alright.

Mark immediately went his side with the camera and began taking pictures of our newest miracle. Meanwhile, as the doctor began finishing the birthing process and closing up, I watched from half a room away as a team of doctors and nurses feverishly worked around him doing their tests and taking care of his initial needs. Tears kept streaming from my eyes as I was so glad he was alive and seemed to be okay. I was so glad he was here and frustrated that I was trapped on the table and couldn't see him.

Then after ten minutes, they put on his diaper, placed a cap on his little head, swaddled him in his first blanket and they walked towards me. My heart began to beat faster and my level of excitement grew as I wondered if I would get a peek at him. And sure enough, the nurse came by and asked if mommy would like a look. My lips quivered with emotion as I looked into the face of my dear little one, Andrew Michael. A new tear fell from my eye as I said with emotion, immense love and bursting joy, "hello sweetie! It's okay sweetheart. It's okay." He moved his head a bit and his crying subsided a bit as he heard my voice. "That's right sweetie. It's mommy. I sure love you!" He let out a few more cries and the very nerves in my arms began to long to take him and draw him close to comfort him and calm him.

"You can touch him." The nurse said. "I can!" I replied. I could hardly believe it. I reached out and gently stroked his brow as I continued to tell him that I loved him and that he was going to be just fine. Then she brought him close, I lifted my head and planted a tender kiss on his tiny little forehead. "I love you sweetheart. I'll see you real soon."

As I put my head back down, the nurse drew him close to her body and left with my husband following behind to stay near to our little one.

Anyway I got sidetracked. So the sisters at St. Francis in Dubuque were part of the prayer chain that God used to bring Andrew safely and with great health into this world. And four and a half months later, those same women, and many of the others that called on God when he came into this world, stormed heaven asking God to heal him from his fall. To do a miracle.

Interestingly, she said that her aunt had told her of the Trappist monks that make these beautiful wooden caskets. And it ended up that they were the ones that we ended up being told about that lovingly designed the casket that held his fragile body when it was laid in the ground.

It kind of makes that casket even more precious and special. Almost poetic.