Remembering September 27th

Last Friday marked five years since Joshua was born.  I can't believe my third child is five!  Time flies faster now...it's an ephemeral reminder that I am not in fact immortal and that my days are numbered.  Whenever his birthday rolls around I am brought back to that night in early autumn when he and I were both very much on the brink of death.

A few days later, on Monday I had my yearly trip to my OB's office and I wouldn't say that we're best friends but, we've been through a lot together.  And we like each other.  He's a gentle, quiet, gruff old man, full of experience and not a lot of words.  Me, well I have been in his office many times over the last several years trusting my health and the health of my children to him.  So as I sat in his office, updating him on all the children and hearing about his family (children/grandchildren) as well, I was again struck by that night when God had used him to step in and save both of us.

I told him with tears in my eyes that Joshua had just turned five a few days earlier
 
He looked at me mystified and said quietly, "Has it really been that long?"

I remarked, "Yes."  Then ventured to say one more thing in the hopes that it wouldn't be too much conversation about a sensitive topic.

"Yes.  It's been five years since that very scary night when you saved him...since you saved me."

He knew what I meant.  I had already told him before that we knew God had used him to save Joshua and myself.  He shifted his eyes downward and said, "I'm just glad all turned out well.  And look you've even had more children since."

I don't know what possessed me to bring up that night.  We hadn't talked about it much except in reference to me never laboring again with my subsequent two children.  Maybe since it's been five years it was just fresh on my mind.  Or maybe I just wanted to make sure he knew that I knew and that I was grateful.

I don't know.

But for whatever reason, I had to say those words.  I had to remember it.  And I wanted him to know that I knew.  That Steve and I knew.

After my VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-section) attempt failed with Joshua (my VBAC with Caleb prior to Josh had been successful), I was so angry about it.  I could not think about the whole thing without hot, angry tears rolling down my cheeks.  Outwardly I was somewhat collected but inwardly a war was waging.  How could this happen?  I had worked so hard doing everything I was supposed to!  I was young.  I already had a successful VBAC.  I hate, HATE c-sections!  I was so embarrassed and felt like an utter failure.

Steve knew I was waging war and that if I didn't come to peace with it, it wouldn't be good.  So because he loves me, he began battling for me.  He listened to me, and ever so gently kept pointing out that even though my body had failed me, God hadn't.  He let me cry but did not let me wallow in my anger.  He gently told me to stop it and to remember what God had done.

God had reached out in the middle of a disaster and He had chosen, in His mercy, to save us both.

To rescue us.

From death's door.

I was hemorrhaging badly from my uterine rupture, every minute losing more and more blood-at the time, no one knew why, and Joshua was retreating further into my uterus trying to survive the barrage of blood invading the birth canal.

And God reached out...

No longer do I remember just the disaster.

Five years later, I remember that God had grace.  And that He gave me Joshua and He gave me life.  He also allowed me two more children.

Remembering September 27th as a Rescue.

Thanking God for His unending grace.