It has been 11 years since I handed my baby boy over to the nurse in the hospital. It was a hot summer morning in Phoenix and the hallway was bright. I remember he watched me as the nurse took him into the operating room and all I could do was ask Jesus to be with him and comfort him.
It was the first time I had seen my husband cry.
I remember friends and family waiting with us. I remember how tense it was whenever we would get a call with an update. I remember with vivid clarity the nurse who came out to tell us that the surgery was over and they were sewing him up. She was petite with short brown hair and very compassionate eyes. But, the thing I remember most is an absolute confidence that my baby was going to be okay. I knew it.
It was touch and go for a few days — and there was a day that I got down on my knees and begged God not to make me bury an infant. But within a week, he was out of the hospital and we were ready to move on with our life.
Jake’s short life has not been easy, from a medical standpoint. He’s got more “ologists” than most people I know, young or old. But, today, the scar is pretty faded and if you didn’t know about his rough start, you probably wouldn’t guess it. Peronally, I think he is an extra-ordinary child – but I realize I’m a bit biased. He smiles with his whole body and his enthusiasm is contagious. He’s vibrant and full of energy. He’s talented and smart. He’s compassionate and justice driven. And, he is funny. He’s really funny.
It’s not lost on me how blessed we are. I am thankful for every day that God has given us with Jake. But, today, I am just thankful that we can have an ordinary day.