We were recently blessed with the birth of our fist child, Karen on April 18. She was early, so she had to spend a week in the NICU. These are my reflections on that time.
There is a club that exists that has a very elite membership. You don’t get to choose to join this club but rather are forced into membership due to the Lord guiding your circumstances. You can try to deny your membership, but it doesn’t help. You can attempt to ignore and suggest that it is all made up and you aren’t a member, but alas, this avails you nothing but frustration and discouragement. This membership will drive you to tears and emotional heights and lows that you have never experienced. It is a lifetime membership that has its meetings at least once a year on the same day, or sometimes more depending on the level of membership. And the only people who understand that you are a card carrying member are other members of this unique and special club. The membership that I speak of is of the club that I have dubbed Club NICU. (CN)
When a family finds out that they are expanding and adding a new member, they force their thoughts away from this club and reject the idea that they will ever be members. For as the first trimester progresses into the second trimester, week by week, they feel their chances of membership are fleeting. At last the third trimester begins and with it a mental countdown shared by no one else but the parents. The due date for the baby is no longer just a new member of the family but rather a target and bulls eye to aim at, all the while knowing that despite ones best efforts and even the arrival of the due date, they could still join CN. Some join early, second trimester, others join late, due date and after, but once in, they are part of a club that will change their lives and challenge their very faith in God, or for some drive them to a new level of faith in God.
Our induction into this club began on April 17 at 6:00 AM with the discovery of a wet bed. During the early morning answer to nature’s calling, my wife exclaimed, “I’m all wet!” to which her shocked husband quickly discovered was not an overly active bladder reminiscent of childhood. My wife showered, while I melted down only to be reformed by a quick and deliberate prayer shared with my mother and AT&T wireless. After her shower, I held my wife and prayed and wept; not the tears of mourning or anger, but rather the tears of a man who feels so in adequate for the task ahead of him. Finally, I grabbed our checklist and began to organize our belongings as a general organizes his troops prior to an invasion. We would not be landing on the beaches of Normandy or Iwo Jima, but the racing pulse emulated many of what those men felt on those historic and brave landings: fear. The gear was packed, the garage door opened, the car rolled, and the membership into CN was all but assured.
Upon arrival at the hospital on that spring day, we were ushered into the maternity ward with a myriad of thoughts racing through our minds. The tests and the questioning began hitting us like heavy, wet snowflakes, stinging and melting faster than we could comprehend. At long last, the welcoming committee to CN, stepped into our room and began to give us introductory remarks and informally ‘welcoming’ us to the club. She was not necessarily a member, but as the head nurse of the NICU she was a de facto leader of membership. She carefully yet deliberately stated why we were now members and what our membership might entail. For us the membership was not a very high level, 34 weeks, possible breathing and more minor issues. But for us it was enough.
The day stretched into night and soon the hour was at hand. With one final grimace, groan, and the most incredible effort by my wife our daughter arrived, sealing our membership once and for all. Moments after delivery, she was gone. As the parents, we stood their stunned and teary eyed. They said she was fine, but they whisked her away, far away it felt, and there I was left to console the baby’s mother, my wife, and commend her incredible effort and performance upon this early Saturday morning. I, being the coach/father, was allowed to go and to visit the clubhouse of our club, the NICU, shortly after the quick exodus of our young child by some loving and skilled nurses.
I walked through the door and was greeted to a world that I had only seen on TV, a world full of alarms, tubes, and wires that though was foreign now would soon become a part of our young family’s life. Though our membership was a lower level, we were members and there was no denying this fact now. Our young baby was beautiful; far beyond what my tear filled eyes could see. For the next little while, I went back and forth ferrying word and digital pictures of our little daughter to her recovering mother. And at last, three hours after being removed from her mother’s arms, she was back in her mother’s arms, wires, sensors, tubes, and all. Our induction was complete but our journey was only beginning.
Denial was our first stage of membership that we passed through. This stage consisted of failing to accept what God had allowed to happen and downplaying a serious drama to the level of a sit com. This stage was complicated since our little girl didn’t look sick, like so many other members of CN. But after a day or two, we shifted to the stage of despair. We cried, struggled, and in general exhausted the last bit of our emotional reserves. ‘Why us?’ was a common theme in our heads, though we were afraid to exhale such content. Anger and frustration are a great part of this stage and we spent these emotions as quickly as a wealthy child spends their trust fund. During this level, you begin to sense a slight bitterness to those who have the ‘normal’ births and arrived at the hospital after you and are already packing to go home, delievered, recovered, and departing. This stage never quite breaks away from one’s consciousness and stays in the shadows for a long time afterwards.
But as quickly as clouds rolling away after a spring thunderstorm, the Son appears and reveals a new stage that is ours for the taking: acceptance and praise. We are members of CN because God wrote this chapter to bring Him the most glory. Our membership is not a very high level because God chose to place us on this level. Finally, our membership is an opportunity to see the hand of God at work in ways that some may never get to in their lifetimes. Too dramatic, you say? Ask a member of CN and see what they tell you as they walked the darkened hallways of the hospital, ate takeout food again, and listened to high pitched chiming of alarms coming from their child’s incubator. However, Club NICU is not the curse that I once considered it. Is it a hard club? For those of you on the outside, I’ll just say this: it is the hardest roller coaster you will ever ride. There are good days/hours, and there are bad days/hours. You smile at the victories and cry in moments of defeat. Through it all, God is there.
As the alarm sounds once again, He is there. As the doctor shares that you won’t be taking your daughter home as soon as you thought, He is there. As the nurse shares blood tests that show more negative than positive, He is there. As you look at your checkbook and wonder how you will afford the extra expenses of eating out and buying things that you needed, He is there. Above all else, He is there and is guiding and directing each and every event that occurs in CN. Do I regret my membership in the
CN? No, not because it is a chance to see God’s hand at work and the stretching of my faith in a way that I could not have ever imagined.
God is good. God is faithful. God is gracious. God is faithful. God is sovereign. God is merciful. God is God. All of these were statements that I accepted as fact until the day that my wife and I joined Club NICU. In those days following induction, I didn’t just see these as facts on a page, but rather as real life. I felt renewed even in my fatigue. I felt energized as I watched God bring our little girl closer and closer to leaving the NICU in our arms. I cheered victories of other babies/parents and cried in defeat of other babies/parents around us in the NICU. All along, God, who hung the stars and planets on nothing, was doing a work in me that can only be described as miraculous and amazing. He was deflating this high view of me that I had created; He was showing me how weak and frail we are as human beings, His creation. I needed Him more than any doctor or medical equipment. I needed Him more than any bank account or credit card. I am a dependent being, which prior to the fall was an accepted fact. But on this side of the Garden of Eden, I kick at the goads of my creator/owner because of my fallen flesh. All the while, my faithful Lord waits, desiring a more intimate relationship with Him and a greater dependence on Him that I have never had.
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth Does not become weary or tired. His understanding is inscrutable. He gives strength to the weary, And to him who lacks might He increases power. Though youths grow weary and tired, And vigorous young men stumble badly, Yet those who wait for the LORD Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary. (Isa 40:28-31)
