Yes… it is true. My Little Man is asleep. It would be just plain trivial, if it weren’t so amazing at least to me. He is a baby after all. Babies sleep. Lots. And so does Si. But the amazing thing tonite, the milestone (Oh Lord…pray it is so…) is that for the first time since I met my little son, he fell asleep in my arms without lots of tremors and jerks or “twitchies” as Hubby and I affectionately (or not so much…) call them.
You see, there is a whole part of Si’s story that I haven’t told yet. For a multitude of reasons. Partly because I don’t want my son labelled. Partly because I don’t want the incredibly honorable woman who gave him life to be judged. Partly because well, to this point, I thought it wasn’t really my story to tell.
But tonight, at least at this hour, I want to share because I hope beyond hope that him falling asleep, twitch-free, is a beginning. Of what? Of his healing, of getting his life back, of fully recovering from the effects of things done to him during his first nine months of life.
When I first held Jax, I saw his beautiful face through my tears of relief that he was here and alive. Then I saw the heart monitor wires. Of course, my mother heart skipped a beat but I knew then. I knew that there was more to the story. We had been told that his First Mother has experienced a struggle with addictions. We had been told that she was in recovery, had one small relapse in the time she was pregnant. We aren’t naive, but we are trusting… we believed her.
We found out as the time in the hospital progressed that our sweet Jax had already experienced a whole lot more that I dare say, Hubby and I put together. And we would have to monitor him for withdrawal symptoms from the cocaine used as soon as a week prior to his birth. My heart could hardly take knowing that he might hurt and struggle against this. But we knew that our commitment was true and sure to this little guy. He was still our son, if his First Mother wanted it to be so.
We were sad but we weren’t giving up. That night, I stayed all night with him because I wanted to see for myself. Symptoms would start 24-48 hours after birth. That night he was restless but okay. He slept more than me. The second night in the hotel, he had about two hours of uncontrolled crying, no way of providing comfort, lots of shaking, painful to see this little guy, not even 2 days old going through this. His third night, after a day to “too much” ~ driving, restaurants, family ~ we spent six hours awake, trying to help him through.
Things have slowly tapered off since then, with short period throughout the day where his sleep is interrupted by tremors and hiccups and crying. We know he’s getting better… we pray he is. And tonight… no tremors and right now, his “hour” is over, when it usually happens. So we are either in for it later (which means I better wrap this up) or he is getting better.
I tell this side of his story mostly because I want it recorded because I believe he will be healed from whatever effects he will suffer long-term to whatever extent God wishes. I believe it… and I want it here so I can see that I believed it, claimed it, right here, tonight.
That third night ~ our “all night” watch with him, Hubby and I prayed the same prayer over him that we prayed over Bug the morning in the hospital when we learned that she too, had been exposed to more drugs and alcohol that we were originally told.
Psalm 139 ~ Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.
Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night’, even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works;that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you,when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them—they are more than the sand. I come to the end—I am still with you. All truth… and I must trust, will trust, just as we have with our precious Bug that all is well and he is at work to heal our son, to make him all that he should be.
And this has become even more vivid to me this last week as I struggle to understand why my friend Jules and her precious Jacob suffer so. I have learned more this week from him, little Jacob yet to be born, about perspective and being grateful for the gift of life. He has taught me, at least so far, to know that my sorrow over the uncertainty of Si’s future should be so small, for Si is alive and has a life ahead of him, whatever it might hold. SO tonight, as Si sleeps, I will too, maybe for the first time in three weeks, grateful…