One year. It is hard to believe and seems long overdue all at the same time.
On April 12, 2019 I woke at 5:30 in the morning, quickly brushed my hair and teeth, changed clothes and then scooped my little man out of bed. I prayed silently over him and snuggled him close breathing in his familiar scent and running the tip of my nose along his sweet little jaw. Our hotel room was quiet as I let his dad get ever ounce of sleep he could out of our sleepless night. We eventually were all up, dressed and ready. We applied the antibiotic cream the surgery staff gave us to Ben’s nose that would soon have a ventilator placed inside his tiny nostrils and would help our son take his first breaths for the second time in his life.
We held each other and cried and prayed, and by 6:00 we were in the car headed to the hospital. The intake was smooth and the nurses busied themselves around me taking Ben’s blood pressure, temperature, quizzing me on his past feeding schedule to make sure his stomach was empty, and graciously allowing me to hold my sweet boy all the while. We waited several hours for the surgeon to be ready, since he had a late night emergency surgery the night before. We listened to worship music and just prayed. Prayed for peace, for steady hands, for sharp minds, for confident decisions, for smooth working machines that would be functioning to keep our son alive while his chest was still and being operated on.
I will never forget the feeling of a rock in the pit of my stomach as I walked him to the operating room, each step was heavy, as my heart was torn to want to run away, but knowing that this procedure was necessary to see my son live. That is truly something that I cannot adequately describe. My heart desperate to give Ben a future, and terrified that the very procedure that promised life, would be the one to take it. The nurse that helped us through our intake walked along side me, pushing Ben’s bed. She squeezed my hand, and I looked up with tears streaming. I saw compassion mirrored on her face. Tears fell from her own eyes, and that level of commitment to her job, to feel my fear and wade into the weight of the day with me, is something I will always cherish. The OR nurses met us in the hall, and promised to take their best care and would be with him for the entire procedure. And they took him from my arms.
We cried as we walked back to the waiting room where we met my mom and Cody’s parents. A strange sense of peace settled over us as the procedure got underway. Shortly after it started, my sister who lived three hours away surprised us by coming to be with us. We chatted and watched the clock and sat by the phone waiting for updates. The surgeon completed the procedure in three hours and then during the echo after the procedure, decided he wanted to make an adjustment and moved forward with opening Ben’s chest again. Ben’s cardiologist who was watching the surgery came out to reassure us that Ben was doing well and that this small adjustment would be best for Ben.
After a total of 7 hours we got a text that Ben’s heart was beating again. He was doing well. Recovery from heart surgery is nothing to downplay, but we definitely rejoiced that the scariest part was behind us.
As we were nearing the one year anniversary, and I realized it would fall on Easter, I have been drawing on the experience of Ben’s heart surgery to learn new depths of what Easter means for us. The long and heavy walk I experienced as I took Ben to heart surgery, makes me feel a closeness to the heart of Jesus as he cried for the Lord to take the cup of death away from him. He knew the life that crucifixion would bring, but this human aspect of Jesus’s experience, to wish for another way. To cry out to the Father to make another way, is a prayer I have prayed far too often over the last year.
Stopping Ben’s heart so a surgeon could operate on it, was necessary to make it whole. Jesus willingly gave up his life to pay the penalty of sin, was necessary to make man whole. And finally, the relief and rejoicing that came in hearing that Ben’s heart was beating again on its own, is what we celebrate today with Easter.
Matthew 28:6 He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.
We rejoice that He has defeated death. I am resting in this simple truth: the Lord will use any means to draw me closer to Him, to trust in His promises and allow me to point to His goodness, even in fear or despair. For I have this great hope. That because He lives, I believe He will not leave me in my fear or despair or even death. He is risen. He is risen, indeed.
Ben For The Win 