August 20, 2021
#19: Since this blog’s last post, my world has completely changed.
“Grab all of you stuff, and follow me,” the nurse calmly ordered.
With all the chaos present in the hospital room, her quiet direction commanded a prompt response. As eight of her colleagues surrounded and soothed my wife, she and I threw everything we brought into two suitcases, held whatever couldn’t fit, and hastily left the room.
The nurse looked back as I followed. With her scrubs and mask on, I could only see her kind brown eyes peering back at me. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet back up with your wife in a bit. They need to prep her.”
We reached our destination, the recovery room, and she handed me a mismatched pair of scrubs. “Sorry they are different colors, but they’ll do. Put them on and follow me!”
She led me from the recovery room down another hallway. The door in the distance was increasing in size. As she gripped its knob, the nurse turned and said, “This is the waiting room. On the other side of this room is the OR. Wait here for me, and I’ll come back to bring you in.”
The room had two doors and two chairs. One door closed the path from which we came, and the other, a portal to a new and unknown world. I sat down in the chair located almost exactly between the two doors and looked back and forth, from door to door.
Since this blog’s last post, my world has completely changed. After months of wondering and all the chaos that goes into childbirth, my wife and I welcomed our daughter Abigail into the world, and we couldn’t be happier. We’ve been tending to her every need in these early days, and those needs are, unfortunately, increasing occurring between 1:00AM and 3:00AM.
While we weren’t expecting her to come as early as she did, both mom and baby are healthy and happy today. However, as I think back to the early morning hours of July 31st, my thoughts travel back to that waiting room. We all experience change, but it’s rare (at least for me), to have the ability to sit and reflect and anticipate the change that’s about to come.
Sitting in that waiting room, I hoped and prayed for a happy outcome for everyone, but I couldn’t help but think about all the past decisions and experiences that helped me get into that chair:
I thought about my childhood, and how from my parents, I learned the basic lessons of life.
I thought about all my friends and relationships, along the way, that helped craft and shape my emotions and awareness.
I thought about all the stories that acted as comfort and inspiration, but also challenged my thinking.
I thought about my professional life and the connections and growth made there.
I also thought about the mistakes I’ve made, and the lessons learned from them.
All of these people, experiences, and decisions acted as my teachers. They helped shape my world view and turn me into the person I am today. They also helped me walk into the waiting room that morning and accept what was about to come.
My world was about to shift from me to her, and I was ready to take all that I learned along the way and use it to help my daughter as she discovers the world and embarks on her own path. Sitting in that chair, I wasn’t apprehensive about the oncoming change; I was excited.
The nurse’s silhouette appeared in the door leading to the OR.
“Everyone’s ready.” She asked, “Are you?”
I stood up from the chair and locked eyes with her, “Let’s go.”
The door closed behind us, and everything changed.
