Sunday 21 August 2016

"Passing off the baby again"

It's 4:30 in the morning. I'm sitting on the green-tiled bathroom floor beside a smelly pile of dirty laundry, listening to my baby boy cooing in the room next to me as I type on the computer.

I've been up an hour.

Crying.

Yesterday in church I handed Caleb to a young lady who wanted to hold him. After she gave him back to me, another older lady friend came over so I handed Caleb to her. The young woman turned and commented to no one in particular, "Passing off the baby again."

Passing off the baby?

Passing off my baby?

That insensitive comment struck my heart.

Does she have any idea that when my baby was a week old, my joy was turned to sorrow? Does she know that my security was replaced with insecurity?

Does she have a clue that I daily ask if my precious tiny son knows who his mommy is, as daddy gets up with him at night again to let me sleep so that I can "get well" so Caleb even has a chance to know his mommy?

Does she appreciate the fact that his brother and sister were mine at this age, and breastfeeding soothed their every need, but this baby has no idea what comfort at mommy's breast feels like?

Does she have any concept of the hours I've mentally wrestled, trying to understand for what purpose God gave me a baby now, when He knew before I did that I had stage IV breast cancer?

Does she realize that sharing Caleb is a result of me trying to make sense of his birth at this time in my life? That I reason that the blessing that he is must be for others and not just myself?

Does she understand that I cannot kiss or hold my baby like a normal mother because of the chemotherapy?

Can she begin to comprehend how much I long for his life, for our life, to be "normal", like most new babies have it?

Does she fathom that daily I pray that I don't have to "pass off my baby" to someone else to raise, but that his own mommy gets to raise him?

Can she observe the aching of my heart as I hold my baby close, trying to fix deep memories of his mommy in his impressionable mind--willing, willing him to remember me, not knowing how long he has with me?

Does she see the struggle, the tears, the refusal to surrender, the battle with things far too big for me, the pleading that goes on all night, the exhaustion, the attempts not to think, to sleep......



Passing off my baby. I pray, never.