When Matt, our oldest, was born, Marty sent out birth
announcements with a little sketch of a baby and the words, “Every child comes
with the message that God is not yet discourage of man.” A quote from a dude
named Rabindranath Tagore, a Bengali artist.
I love this.
Well, it happened again, God gave the world another message,
in fact God gave us a couple of messages. Our daughter Erin brought life, to
not one, but two new baby girls. They
came roaring into the world January 10 at roughly 6:30p.m.
It was, is, way cool.
I’m pretty sure Layla Bird is the oldest by about two
minutes and then came Liza Lou. They are
healthy, hungry and home and despite the ensuing childhood illnesses befalling
all those around them, they are eating, pooping, sleeping and growing, in short
being infants.
The names, the middle names, are family names from my
mother’s side. My Mom is a Bettye Lou
and her sister was Ebba Bird. I really
like the names, they go well with Lily Jewell and Lucy Jean. They are Texas through and through and if
they hang with me enough, they will talk like they are from west Texas, really,
it’s quiet charming.
I was there on their birthday as a matter of serendipity. We were at the lake and I had just texted
Erin to say I was on my way to deliver some baby tools on loan from friends in
Houston when she said it was good I was coming because she was on her way to
labor and delivery. Delivery occurred
about 6 hours after my arrival.
I took Marty up to meet Layla and Liza the next day and she
squirreled up enough courage to hold Liza.
Marty is always afraid she is not safe holding babies. Not true mon Cheri, you are why these babies will
always be safe, you showed us the way.
New children, new grandchildren are the perfect Ecstasy.
On Monday following that ecstasy Marty got sick, thus a
little bit of agony. We were at the lake
when Marty clearly started spiraling down the “I’m gonna get sick” drain. When she puked we knew it was time so we
loaded ourselves and the dog in our vehicles and hot footed over to Providence
in Waco.
This is one of those moments I had dreaded for a long
time. Marty getting sick that far away
from our home hospital and having to make the decision to drive the hour and
half to Waco or detour to Corsicana or Fairfield, both an hour closer. I made the decision to get to Waco and so we
rode, Marty tucked into the passenger seat of our van with her puke bucket and
Nykkie, caregiver extraordinaire and the dog following in the truck.
As an aside and as a public service announcement, if you are
planning an illness, wait for a few weeks because the hospitals are just nuts
right now with flu and upper respiratory illnesses and there is coughing and
hacking all over the waiting room, and that was just me and Marty.
It took about 3 hours for Marty to graduate from the lobby
to an ER room. Providence folks were
smart though and had already drawn blood and done a chest x-ray so by the time
we got back to the back we, they knew Marty was sick with and elevated white
count (infection) and some cloudy areas on her chest x-ray. We got to her room up stairs about 8 p.m.,
the first time we have been in the hospital since September of 2017.
That’s awful for normal people, pretty good for those of us
lined up in the health care aberration line.
That was a Monday, on Friday we made our way home. Once home Marty got the obligatory shower and
hair wash to rid herself of the hospital funk.
She was still a bit congested but free of any possibility of infection
so home felt like, well home.
We spent the weekend doing regular stuff and on Tuesday following
I drove to Dallas to see the new additions.
I had to see the two new messages from God, the two wonderful notions
that God loves and shows us love and commands love. I needed to see the antithesis of the week in
the hospital, know that in spite of it all, it spite of the agony of brokenness,
in spite of the anxiety of illness, in spite of the pain of watching illness, real
ecstasy exists, real miracles occur.
PS….We went back to hospital two weeks later.
