Tender Feelings of a Father

The words that follow are deeply personal. My nature has always been to keep many of my personal feelings to myself. My wife can attest to that. But, I feel compelled to say a few things about the events of the past few days. First, the gratitude in my heart for Trey and his life is quite literally unspeakable. As I have knelt in prayer to express that gratitude the past several days my words have been rendered inadequate. I have simply had to rely on my belief that a living God, who is my Father, comprehends my feelings and received the profound thanks that I have conveyed. Tears flowed tonight as I attempted to thank Him for His hand in Trey's birth.

There have been two times in my life where I was given something that came unquestionably and mysteriously from a source outside my own control - so much so that I would have to deny my own existence as to deny it. I have been in many situations in life where emotions and feelings seem to come out of nowhere to effect my actions. I have an athletic background and I have felt the sudden rush of adrenaline that feels like an injection of power, or stamina, or strength to do things that I didn't know I could do. I have been in life saving situations in my profession where a sense of action and knowledge has spurred me to make crucial and seemingly above-my-ability judgements. I have had promptings as a parent to check on a child in distress or felt impressed to discuss something with my son or daughter that I couldn't quantify, but nonetheless needed to do or say to them that was above my ability to know. Many of these instances can be explained by spiritual or even scientific reasons. What I felt shortly before Trey's birth was not one of these things. It was something heavenly. It was something profoundly spiritual. It was something Godly. It was, above all, something impossible to summon from my own mortal being. Trey's situation before birth was so eerily similar to Claire's. Anemia, sinusoidal heart rate, prematurity, transfusions, highest level neonatal care, hydrops . . .  all the same words and phrases. My reactions to both situations were identical. Pleading, praying, worrying, discouragement, despair, bargaining, promising, begging, crying, feeling helpless, powerless, inadequate and unable to do anything! I wanted Trey to get better. He got worse. I wanted to leave him in the womb. They wanted to take him out. I wanted time. They told me there was none. This ALL happened before with Claire. I had faith with Claire that she could be healed. I didn't doubt that her situation could be reversed. I believed she was going to live. I prayed and said as much. With Trey, it was the same, only this time I had more reason to doubt because of what happened to Claire. If you think I was able to muster more faith or hope for Trey you would be mistaken. It took everything I had to believe that he could be ok. The situation at the time seemed to dictate that he too would suffer and possibly die. My prayers were the same. My faith, probably less. I attempted to trust and found myself inwardly falling into despair. I read scriptures and tried to remember that I felt long ago he would live. Nothing. More worry. Despair. The doctor came in and said it was time for delivery. I was sullen. I asked one last time for help. What happened over the course of the next few minutes I won't be able to describe properly. A wave or something closer to a blast of peace and assurance came over me. My fear and sadness were INSTANTLY replaced with what felt as close to knowledge as anything I've ever experienced. The knowledge was simply this - that Trey would live. That he would be ok. That there was a purpose to his life. I felt like there was a chorus in my head that sang words that only my heart understood. I was at that moment, somehow, miraculously happy. I told Kelly "everything is going to be ok." As I sat outside the operating room before the delivery I saw the doctor who would be delivering Trey. A voice in my head said, "tell him what you know." I said to the doctor, "I just want you to know that I believe he will be just fine and that everything will be ok." He paused for a brief second and said "I believe that too."
To truly understand the impossibility of what happened to me inwardly at the level I experienced it - the change from true despair to perfect happiness - is probably too difficult . But as I said, I feel compelled to share it with the world, or anyone who will listen.
 - Blue