Contractions

Kayla sat on the step with pain rolling down her cheeks… It had to be time.


The drive to the hospital was quiet and quick.

We stopped in front of the hospital entry doors only long enough to say a prayer. They piled out. I parked.

I continued to pray that this would be the time. Only days before they had taken this same route only to be sent home. “You’re not quite ready.” They told the young parents.

Mother-to-be seated in wheelchair. Nurse Rachel steered toward the elevator that would take us to the fifth floor; the maternity ward. We tagged along.

As father of the mother, I tried to comfort.

“Well Bug, the next time you’re on this floor you’ll be carrying baby in your lap instead of in your stomach.” She looked at me with; I sure hope so in her eyes.

I prayed the same in my heart.

Although I’d told her “no one is pregnant forever” she was six days overdue and beginning to think she would be.

She said the pains “are like menstrual cramps.” The nurse advised Kayla was dilated to a three; not enough to be considered active labor but they would monitor her contractions.

We listened to the beeping machine and watched numbers on the monitor reflect baby’s heartbeat and the timing and severity of contractions. The information was drawn like a graph on a stream of paper flowing from the machine.

After my statement about Kayla leaving the hospital with baby in her lap instead of in her stomach I felt confidence grow and felt this would be the time. Kayla wasn’t so sure, nor the medical staff.

We watched and waited.

I studied the graph and determined that two strong contractions within minutes of each other were reflected. I was about to make another bold claim that this would continue until she was in full fledged labor and the baby would be born, soon. But about that time the nurse walked in and advised that they were going to send Kayla home.

Disappointment filled the room like a fog. Kayla was frustrated, tired, hurt and just plain ready to deliver. I didn’t show it but I was mad – at God.

“I’ll go pull up the truck” I said.

As I walked I complained; inside my head until I got outside the hospital and then I whispered the words out loud to God: “Why don’t you just put her into labor? We prayed. I made bold confessions of faith in front of my daughter – Your daughter. Don’t you think this could hurt her faith? We prayed, now she may think prayer doesn’t work. And besides that she may lose her trust in me, since I said this would be the time. It would have been so easy for You to have just opened the door for this baby to be born…”

By the time I reached the Suburban I was running out of steam. Suddenly I remembered part of our prayer as we stopped at the hospital entry doors; “Lord, we submit to and ask for your perfect timing…”

. “Oh God, I’m sorry. It just hurts so bad to see my own child hurt. I’m not mad at you. I trust You.”

As I eased the vehicle around the circle drive to the entry I saw my family headed out the door. And Kayla smiled. Something told me everything was going to be alright.

And…God knew exactly how I felt. He’d seen His Son hurt, too.

And as far as prayers are concerned – I still think faith filled prayer in the hands of love is the most powerful force on earth. It’s just that God is under no obligation to fit into my logic. He knows what and when is best – I don’t have to.

The drive home was silent and slow…but peaceful. Knowing we’d pass this way again, soon.

As sure as there's a winter there's a spring. And as sure as there’s a conception there’s a delivery… but that story will have to wait until next time.

Hope to see you pass this way again, soon.

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This post is part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival hosted by my friend Peter Pollock. For more posts about winter, please visit his site, http://peterpollock.com/

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