Baby Solomon

On the morning of May 12, 1996 came the first sign that I would finally get to meet you, my fourth baby. At 1:10 am you woke me up with two contractions and as I got out of bed to call the midwife, my water broke. You were not fooling around. This was definitely going to be the night of action!

I called your Grandmother over to watch your sisters if they woke up. The midwife was already here when your Grandma arrived teary-eyed as she recounted that 30 years ago today, she delivered her last baby.

Things were progressing very quickly. Cathy, the midwife, checked your heart rate. I can still hear her words, "140, great!" You were beating away just marvelously!

But 15 minutes later when it came time to push you out, the midwife’s face fell as she found your umbilical cord had actually slipped out of the birth canal without you! (Cathy told us later that this is a rarely occurring obstetrical emergency that usually requires an immediate Cesarean section.) Your oxygen supply was pinched off by the tight fit of your head in the birth canal.

Cathy ran for the Doppler to check your heart rate again. No matter where she placed it, she could not get a reading. Your heart had completely stopped beating.

Immediately, Cathy laid me on the floor & attempted to stuff your cord back in place. I realized the severity of the situation so endured the torture the best I could.

At this point Cathy told us that you had to be delivered NOW or there’d be no hope for your survival & suggested that your Daddy call 911 for an ambulance. You Daddy had to make a snap decision & he decided that your chances of a fast arrival would be greater at home. He thought by the time the paramedics arrived, transported us to the hospital & prepared us for surgery, it’d be too late. We’d attempt it at home.

I was in no state to think things through and was so grateful your Daddy was strong for us and that he was making this monumental decision. I felt confident at this point that this was the best decision for you and for me. Besides, you’d probably be here in a minute or two anyway. (I also could not imagine I’d deliver you any quicker laying on a stretcher or in a ambulance.) I just wanted the nightmare to end.

Funny there was no panic in this sickening situation. There was definitely concern but a peace was over all of us. I felt like we were in the eye of a hurricane - protected while in the middle of this frightening situation.

We hadn’t even made it across the hallway into the room we prepared to deliver you in. So in your sister’s bedroom we desperately focused our entire energy on getting you out immediately. I stood up and leaned forward while your Daddy held me up by my armpits and Cathy pushed you down from the outside with each contraction. Her words still haunt me, "If there’s any hope for this baby, you must push it out NOW!" The pressure was so intense - I knew I could only do my best but I would forever live with the consequences.

Then the unexpected happened - my contractions stopped when you were promising to arrive so soon! Normally this would have been relief from the pain, however Cathy kept reminding, "Your baby has to come out NOW!" Time was of the essence and about 15 minutes had already elapsed since we found your cord hanging out. We all knew you were dying as your supply was choked off and there was still no heart beat!

Now I was scared and oh so desperate. I felt like I had already delivered - not a pain at all except for that nagging thought of getting you out. Pushes without contractions are pointless as we found out and I kept hearing the clock tick, tick, ticking away. Cathy was doing her best to prepare me for the probable outcome of this horror. She told me to push you out but it was impossible. I knew I’d be plagued with guilt till I died for not getting you out fast enough, but honey, there was nothing I could do. It was so desperately horrifying. The bizarrest thoughts went through my mind like, "What do I do with the stack of pre-addressed birth announcements and the beautiful new knitted afghan that waited for you?"

I remember the corner of your sisters’ ceiling. I fixed my eyes on as I verbalized, "Dear God, if this baby is going to live, you’ll have to do it!" Immediately I had a contraction and then another and you slid out quickly. I say quickly and yet so much time had elapsed from the time this whole bad dream began. I wondered how anyone could survive this.

My work was finished. God knew I could give nothing more. I was physically and emotionally spent. Your Grandma was holding my hand and her face was whitish. But baby, yours was ashen gray & your eyes were closed. Your limbs dangled limply at your sides and you didn’t make a sound.

You were immediately wrapped in warm towels and your Daddy began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while Cathy began CPR on your 7 pound, lifeless body. You did not respond at all. (Later your Daddy told me that the only knowledge he had with mouth-to-mouth on an infant was a course he had taken 18 years ago and every detail miraculously came vividly to his memory.)

Cathy kept saying to your Daddy, "Put the baby in it’s mom’s arms," which acknowledged the worst to me. But thank God your Daddy persevered because after even more time had escaped, a very strange little gasp came from your mouth. We all heard it but nobody was sure whether it was your very first or very last. I still couldn’t hope for the best - so much time without a heartbeat or a breath had gone by.

I tried not to get too excited, but your Daddy sure did. He kept encouraging you to fight, fight, fight! He also was praying like I’d never heard before - "Lord you’re not going to give us this baby for 9 month only to let it be taken from us now! We want our baby back!" And I always added, "But Jesus, I don’t want to mother a handicapped child."

The midwife grabbed her Doppler again because you gasped another feeble breath about 30 seconds after that 1st sound you made. Amazingly you had 60 beats per minute! At first you breathed every 30 seconds, then every 15 seconds! As your heart rate increased, so did your Daddy’s faith. He shut out all the doubt around him and pressed on with God. (He says he felt an encompassing plexiglass shield protecting him from any negative thought and comment that came his way. Interestingly, the Bible talks about that shield of faith and it became so real to him at this time.)

I’m sorry to tell you baby, that while your Daddy was storming heaven’s gates and pulling on the hem of Jesus’ robe (& even yanking on His beard by aggressive prayers), I was thinking down the road of my life with you. It now appeared you’d be pulling through, yet I knew physiologically you could not be a normal child. Four to six minutes is all they’ll resuscitate a baby for in the hospital, because after that the risk of severe brain damage is too high. Sweet thing, you already had no heartbeat for a minimum of 23 minutes when we found your cord prolapsed, and it could have been out another 15 minutes prior to us finding it. That was 38 minutes - how could your brain not have been affected???

By now your cord was snipped so your Grandma and I left the room. I knew you were in better hands with your believing and expectant father than with your spent mother. I had performed my part in giving you life and now your Daddy was doing his.

Every time you took another raspy breath, your Daddy said he could feel fluid leaving your lungs. He held your tiny, swaddled body right to his heart and prayed continually. With each breath you became more sure of yourself - they got progressively clearer and stronger.

You were born at 3:00 AM and by about 5:00 am your heart rate stabilized and your breathing, though faint, was constant. Nobody except your Daddy had held you yet. I hadn’t even looked at you. I wasn’t just sure how to do it. Do I look at you with pity at what I may lose or do I look at something which is mine to keep and nurture?

Your Daddy was in another room when I remembered something awesome three months before you were born. During prayer God told me you would be a boy and we were to call you Solomon. Solomon? Now that’s a pretty big name and it never made it on our top 10 list of names. In fact, I didn’t even tell you Dad for another month. His response was identical to mine, - "isn’t that a bit presumptuous?"

But it was now when I recollected this memory. I called to your Dad in the other room, "Honey, is this a boy?" It seems strange that you were 2 hours old and we didn’t know yet, but we were all too preoccupied to check in such an intense situation. Up to this point we were just fighting for a life - not a baby girl or boy.

When he answered with, "Just a minute, I’ll check." It was the first time in hours any of us had smiled. At that moment such a sweet warm peace engulfed me. "Yup, it’s a boy," you Daddy discovered. I so excitedly reminded him that you were to be named Solomon and with the name of the wisest person who ever lived, I knew there was no way you could have been brain damaged! Why would God ever have given me that name without a need of such assurance?

Only now was I ready to first look at you, little Solomon! I think your Daddy was relieved when I finally asked to hold you. I wept and marveled at your perfectness. Looks like you were going to be ours to keep after this whole ordeal! The praise and glory goes to God alone!

When you started to cry your first cry, it lasted for 7 hours non-stop! Your Daddy says you were announcing to the world, "I’m alive! Look I’m alive!" You were clearing out those poor little lungs of yours and never were we so glad to hear a baby cry. It began so faint and unnatural but by the time you were finished, it was clear to us you had as lusty a set of lungs as any of your three sisters!

Interesting enough, once you stopped, you were so calm and peaceful and continued to be so. You were our easiest baby and the most content. But of course, God knew. It’s no coincidence the name he had chosen for you means peaceable. But guess what else it means? It means perfection!!

The next morning your Uncle, a province away, called us. He said God had given two people visions about you. God showed them both the same thing - you were perfectly healed and there’d be no damage at all. That was the release from fear of future problems that I still needed. God knew that. But there was more God showed us. He said we had it all because we asked for it all.

At this point your Dad and I wept as we recalled all the times we don’t ask for it all. This time we dared to ask the impossible from a God that can cross any boundaries of time and space to fulfill anything that is impossible to us alone. Only our request limit us. If God can resurrect a dead baby, there’s nothing that’s impossible with Him. We are so grateful we’re on His side!

Solomon, in your life you will come across situations that look impossible. Don’t ever look with your natural eyes alone, but remember to look with your spiritual eyes because those are the ones that are real.

You my son, have a special call upon your life. Never forget that. Always reach for the mark that is upon you because God has ordained it even before the foundation of the world was laid. Remember, this is what is real! May every day of your life bring as much glory to God as your day of birth.

Update: Solomon, you are almost 17 month old and clearly perfect and peaceable. You’re walking and talking and bring great joy to us all. Not a single day elapses without gratitude for your little life. God truly is the Great Physician.

2 Corinthians 1: 9-11

Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many.