I had the opportunity to see a different side of the pandemic this week. A side that I knew in theory existed but something I had not yet experienced.
On Thursday my wife had an appointment with her gynecologist for her weekly check up. She had four weeks left in her pregnancy so she was now being checked on bi-weekly. Due to the pandemic I was not permitted to attend the appointment with her so I ran a few errands and then sat in the parking lot preparing for my General Science class I was teaching the following day.
I didn’t notice my wife until she opened the door and silently slipped into her seat. I looked at her and asked how it went. Looking straight ahead she told me that we had to go to the hospital. Why, I asked. She calmly told me, after they took her blood pressure, they suddenly rushed her into the doctor ahead of the people who were there before her. The doctor took one look at her numbers and told her she was to go to the hospital immediately and they would take care of her there.
So we headed to the hospital.
When we presented ourselves at the birthing center we were brought into an observation area. They kept checking her blood pressure and then took blood and urine samples for testing. No one told us anything but we knew this wasn’t routine. All this time we were talking through masks and watching nurses, doctors and cleaning staff hurry about their duties in all their protective gear. It was strange to watch, like something out of a Sci-Fi movie.
They must have rushed the tests because it didn’t seem we were there very long before the results were back. A very gentle doctor came to talk to us. She informed us that the results indicated pre-eclampsia, a life-threatening condition for baby and mother if not attacked upon. She informed us that there was only one cure: delivery. They would have to induce my wife four weeks early.
We were not prepared for this physically or mentally. We suddenly realized that we were at the hospital birthing center, preparing to give birth, with no baby, mommy or daddy bags. We had the clothes on our backs. No music. No extra pillows. No snacks (for dad). And worst of all, no phone chargers.
At first the doctor said I could go home and pick up what was needed because they would start the induction in the morning. Then everything changed when the medication failed to lower Melodie’s blood pressure. I was told to stay put. Wait, what? It was the only moment that we had any apprehension. Were they going to end up doing a c-section? But thirty minutes later the doctor was back to explain they were going to transfer my wife to her room and start the induction now. The doctor turned to me, smiled, and said that I had time to go home and get what was necessary. Then she added, but don’t be long.
Armed with a long list of things I needed to get for baby and mom and where I would find them at home, I left the hospital. Round trip, not counting seek and find time, it was 34 minutes. Thankfully my eighteen year old daughter was waiting for me and gave me a hand putting things together and even packed a lunch for me. By the time I got back with everything (more or less), my wife was comfortably installed in her room and the procedure had started.
Being people of faith and belonging to a large faith family, there were people all around the world praying for us. This was something incredibly comforting in knowing that friends in Greece, Belgium, France, the US, throughout Canada, in the Philippines and places we didn’t even know about were praying for us and little Samuel, who was being forced into this world before he was ready. We had a wonderful sense of peace in the Lord’s presence. All was well.
Over the next eighteen hours we had the privilege of meeting many incredible doctors and nurses. Their compassion and tenderness was amazing, but something happened that made me see people in this pandemic in a whole new way. The thing that changed everything, that made me sit up and take note happened at the most incredible moment of our time in the hospital.
Melodie was in active labour. Nurses seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. The doctor was in the catch position. Everyone in the room became the cheerleaders and my wife was immersed in the moment. It was loud. It was busy. And it was then, as the sweat was washing over my wife’s face and the pain was at its most intense, with her breathing deepened to the point I thought the medical mask would disappear into her breath, that one of these beautiful cheerleading women reached over and flicked my wife's mask off her face. She was free to suck in all the air she needed. In one simple motion, compassion trumped protocol. I was stunned by this act’s insane nature of beauty. It was second only to the arrival of our beautiful baby boy.
Pause and reflect for a moment. That mask on my wife’s face was not there for the benefit of my wife. It was there to protect everyone else in the room. The act of removing that mask was entirely for my wife’s benefit, to the endangerment of everyone else in that room. This significance was not lost on me.
There was something absolutely wondrous how the beautiful part of humanity overshadowed the masks, gowns and hand sanitizer. Not once did I hear these beautiful people raise doubt about the pandemic or the protocols in place because of it. There were no complaints or fussing or frowns. After a bit I stopped noticing what they were wearing because their hearts of service caused these things to evaporate in their soft tones of tender compassion. They were not focused on themselves or the inconvenience of working twelve hours in this equipment. Their focus was caring for these new mom’s and their beautiful new born babies. If they were tired of all this they never showed it beneath those beautiful voices and those healing hands.
So my take away : no matter the circumstances of the day, the best parts of humanity can outshine it when we are determined to focus on love.
PS. My wife gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, weighing only 5.5 lbs, just this side of being a preemie. Mother and baby are resting comfortably at home, healthy and well. We consider ourselves tremendously blessed and are eternally thankful for such a large praying family.
