A few weeks ago Margaret woke up at 11pm. We couldn't understand what she was saying through her screams. By 4am, she and her blankie and I were on our way to the emergency room. I sang to her while I drove, but I don’t think she could hear me. There are times when life feels frighteningly, starkly real. Running into the hospital with your hysterical baby is one of them. Hospital rooms are white spaces with black cords. I can’t think of a place Margaret would hate more. The nurses were efficient. Off with the pink pajamas, in with the needles. As she screamed I held her hand and whispered next to her ear,
Oh, baby girl. This is alright. They are princesses. They are here to help you. Just hold mommy’s hand. This is alright.
And as they took her from ultrasound to CAT scan to blood test to ultra sound, I kept my lips by her ear and told her I loved her and that there would be ice cream soon and that everything was alright.
I prayed. And felt like it was the first time in my life that I really needed my prayers to be heard.
By 7am, Riley, Viola and my parents were at the hospital and the doctors were stalled. They transferred us to Primary Children’s Medical Center where the rooms are colorful, but the needles are still sharp.
Mommy loves you. I promise, baby, this is alright.
And then, after more tests and tears, her body began to relax. There were still no answers but the pain was gone. We could go home.
As we drove home, I thanked God. Thanked Him for a husband that would hold my hand when I didn’t know where to reach. Thanked Him for parents that drove in the dark to be in the same white room as us. My mom rushed into that hospital like Margaret was her very own. I thanked Him that my two pink pajama’d girls would be asleep that night in our little house. And I thanked Him for prayer. For the sheer beauty of the thing. The magnificence of the Creator of all things stopping in eternity to listen to scared, little me. I thanked Him that this time the answer was, Yes. Yes, the pain will go away. Yes, she will go home with you. Yes.
I understand that someday the answer will be, No. That He will hear me and love me and still have to let me fall or lose or break. But I also know that He will not leave me alone. That even in the darkness He will be there with me and like a whisper up close against my ear I will know,
Everything is going to be alright.