“God is faithful.”
This had become my mantra. In times where I could not take another breath because I was so full of worry or insecurity I would repeat this over and over until I could go on.
We had asked for prayer support at church one weekend while I was still pregnant but having complications. A man wrote us a postcard saying that he had prayed for us he also included more beautiful words of encouragement and then at the very end he simply signed “God is faithful!” The postcard was taped to the fridge so that I could see it daily and never forget.
I could not forget.
Then throughout the duration of my bed rest when the quiet was too much I would repeat it until my heart would calm and I knew I would be okay. In the rush to arrive at the hospital, worrying about preterm labor and the pressure of not wanting a NICU stay, I repeated it. In labor when the pressure was intense and there was barely time to catch my breath I repeated it. When Cannon could not catch his breath and they were trying to decide if NICU was the place for him I repeated it. During our stay in the NICU and the Special Care Unit I repeated it. Then in the worry and anxiety of waiting for the diagnoses I repeated it. In the moment, the days and weeks following “that” phone call I repeated it. Getting into the car the morning of our first appointment to KC I repeated it.
“God is faithful, God is faithful, God is faithful.”
The drive was long. Not that long, but knowing what lay ahead of us didn’t make the drive any easier. How I wished that instead of driving to this appointment we were just going up to KC to have fun with both Chandler and Cannon. Or how fun it would be to take a weekend getaway just Chase and I, but neither of those choices were reality. We were headed to KC to talk to a pediatric cranio/facial plastic reconstructive surgeon to discuss the reality that Cannon had cransynostosis. We were headed to KC to develop a plan of correction, to face reality, to place our baby into someone else’s hands and listen to all the advice that would be given to “fix” our baby.
I had spoken with my friend who had gone through this about parts of her initial consultation and I thought that I was ready. She told me about “the” pictures. The beautiful babies with post-op swollen faces, bruising and swollen shut eyes and she told me that if she hadn’t done that, then she might not have survived her son’s post-op face. I thought okay, now I know to prepare myself for that. But that was all that I knew.
We finally arrived after going round and round trying to find the right street, the right area, the right entrance. We had been there before for Chandler’s same day surgery but that had been two years ago. Like a flood though, all the memories and emotions from that day came rushing in. This time it was Cannon I was holding. My stomach dropped, my mind raced and my heart beat so fast that I started shaking uncontrollably.
I wanted to leave.
I wanted to cry.
I repeated it "God is faithful."
