Giver of Life: Part 2

The previous post concluded with hints of an impending trial… On August 27, 2008, the Life Giver granted us a priceless gift, the gift of life. Our little Sophie took her first breath of air around 5:37 a.m. For the next hour we simply enjoyed the moment: looking at her cute little fingers and tiny toes, breathing in that wonderful baby smell, and holding her in our arms. It was absolutely amazing. Our hearts were rejoicing and our faces showed it. Then Tammie seemed to sense that something was amiss. She looked at me and said, “I think she’s having trouble breathing.” I didn’t really notice anything, but I asked the nurse to have a look, just in case. The nurse came in and assured us that everything was fine, but that they needed to take her to the nursery for all the routine checks. We didn’t want to lose the magic of the moment, but we were confident that the excitement would resume, and that she would be back in our arms within only a few minutes. Sadly, we were mistaken.

Thirty minutes passed, then forty-five, and finally an hour, but still they had not returned our daughter. We wondered what was taking so long. Deciding that more than enough time had passed, I went in search of our little one. Finally, I found the nursery and walked in. Once inside, I noticed that Sophie was getting plenty of attention. What I should have realized is that that’s not necessarily a good thing. Naively thinking all was fine, I asked the nurse when we would be able to take Sophie back to the room, and that’s when she broke it to me. “Mr. Moore, the doctor would like to talk to you.”

Walking in on cue, the doctor explained that he was fairly certain she had a condition called “Transient Tachypnea,” or in layman’s terms, “wet lung.” (Don’t worry, I didn’t know what that meant either.) The doctor explained that during a normal birthing process most of the fetal lung fluid should be squeezed out, and the minor amounts left behind are simply reabsorbed. For whatever reason, this didn’t happen for Sophie. As a result, there is excess fluid in the way and she has to work extremely hard to take a full breath. Then the doctor walked me over to the side of her little bed, and he asked me to observe her and tell me what I saw. “She’s breathing rapidly and her stomach seems to be sinking in a lot, like she’s really struggling to get air, and it sounds like she’s humming.” He said, “We call that Tachypnea Retractions and the little grunting sound that you hear sounds cute, but it’s a bad sign… We’re going to have to admit her to the NICU, but there’s nothing to worry about. This kind of thing just takes time.”

I wanted to cry for my little princess, but I had to be strong. I needed to tell my wife the prognosis and I knew I couldn’t do it with tears in my eyes. Returning to the room I broke the news, and almost before I finished with the explanation Tammie was on her way to see her. When we got to the NICU, we weren’t exactly prepared for the sight we saw. Wires, tubes, monitors, IV’s, etc., all protruding out of our tiny baby. The doctor came over and informed us that her condition was deteriorating and so they were administering high flow oxygen. If this doesn’t work, then we’ll probably have to put her on the respirator. Tammie asked, “May I hold her?” convinced that the answer would be “yes.” She leaned forward to pick her up only to hear the nurse say, “No! I’m sorry.”

“I can’t hold my baby? When will I get to hold her?”

“When she’s off the oxygen.”

“When will that be?”

“Three days, five, maybe ten, we’re just not sure.”

After spending about an hour with Sophie, just staring at her and feeling helpless, we headed back to the delivery room. The short walk down the hall felt more like a marathon, each step heavier than the last as we walked farther and farther away from our child. We wanted an expedient recovery, we hoped for a misdiagnosis, but it wasn’t to be. Arriving back in the room, no words were spoken, but we both knew what we needed to do. So we closed our eyes and falling to our knees began to cry out to the Healer of the hurting, the Comforter of broken hearts, our Refuge in times of trouble. With tears welling up in our eyes, then gently streaming down our cheeks we joined our voices with that of the Psalmist proclaiming our faith in the Giver and Restorer of Life. “I lift my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help come from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” Regardless of whichever way this troubled road turned, we were prepared for we had determined to simply “walk by faith.”

Giver of Life: Part 1

Until only a few short days ago, I have had the privilege of watching the miracle of birth three times. And with each occurrence, I have been moved to tears and filled with awestruck wonder at the power, majesty and craftsmanship of our Great God. And in that instant, when my eyes first gaze upon His beautiful creation, I find myself humbled by His amazing grace and love. It is in that moment of overwhelming joy that I am often reminded of David’s prayer in Psalm 139, “You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well.” I have to admit, prior to becoming a father, my soul didn’t “know it very well” at all. Sure, I read David’s words, but I did not appreciate them. It was only after witnessing the glorious occasion of the birth of our children that I was truly enabled to comprehend the sentiment of the psalmist.

On August 27, 2008, our lives were once again blessed with the birth of a child as we welcomed Sophie Grace into the world. The emotions that were building and the connection that had been forming for nine months culminated in those first few moments of life. Smiles appear, tears come, and hearts overflow. If you’ve been there, then you are intimately acquainted with the experience. If you have not, there is no way to properly convey the multitude of emotions bombarding your senses. To say that you are overwhelmed, ecstatic, frightened, joyous, and peaceful all at the same time only scratches the surface. Without question, the phenomenon is far beyond my feeble ability to describe, but one thing is certain. It is beautiful.

In Psalm 127, Solomon declares that “Children are a gift of the LORD, the fruit of the womb, a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.” I’ve often wondered why I have been blessed with so precious a gift. What did I ever do or accomplish to deserve so great a reward? My conclusion is always the same: absolutely nothing. It is merely another act of unmerited favor from the Giver of Grace, and to Him I am forever grateful.

I wish that I could draw this story to an end with something like “and we lived happily ever after until the end of our days.” But that was not to be. Trials come, struggles ensue and the journey of life continues. For Princess Sophie it was a struggle to breathe. At first not even the medical staff noticed. Only the knowing sense of a mother that something was not quite right with her baby gave any indication. But that story must wait for another day, another post. It will be told soon, but not yet. For now, come and celebrate with us for we have been given a gift. The Giver of Life has offered and we have received a daughter.

Taste and See

One evening a few weeks ago, we had the opportunity to have dinner with a couple from church. From the very first time we met them, our 2 year old, Chloe, has called them “Grandma” and “Poppy.” Of course we aren’t related, but Chloe knows grandparents when she sees them. At first we all thought it was cute, so we never bothered to correct her. But now we’ve all come to accept what Chloe could see all along.

Like most grandfathers, Poppy is adept at switching hats between wise old sage and walking entertainment center. After dinner, he was doing a little bit of both as he took the kids off to his workshop to train them in the art of woodworking. Within only a few seconds, my two older children, Hailey and Toby, were captivated and their imaginations were in overdrive. Chloe wasn’t as impressed. She didn’t come for wood, but for the trees. She came to explore.

As she searched through the “jungles” of our friends’ backyard, she stumbled upon a treasure, a fountain of cool, clear water springing forth from the very ground. To the trained eye, it was easy to see that a sprinkler head had broken off. But through the eyes of a two-year old, it was nothing short of a miracle, a gift from God providing refreshment and retreat from the long summer day.

By the time her discovery was made known to the rest of us, her clothes were soaked. My first inclination was to reprimand her, but then God allowed me to look past the circumstances and see the heart of a little girl acting in innocence, a little girl simply being who she is, a child. We just watched her, delighting in the moment, tasting the goodness, finding refuge from the heat of the sun in the coolness of the flow, and allowing it to quench her thirst. She invited us all to do the same. Her request wasn’t long or eloquent, but the message was conveyed just the same. She merely said, “Come, it’s good.”

In John 7:37, Jesus extends an invitation of his own. He says, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink.” He offered, and continues to offer “Living Water.” And yet in the course of this life, we continuously reject His offer and search to gratify our thirsts in the cisterns and wells of our own doing, in the stagnant pools of idleness, and in the murky, mud stained waters of sin. But in the Psalms, David encourages us to do more. He says, “O taste and see that the Lord is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him… Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

Oh, that we would hear the testimony of the Psalmist, that we might heed the plea of our Savior. May we listen to His voice, and truly see what He has done for us. I pray that we might come into His presence, that we might come thirsty, and drinking deeply, be satisfied in Him.