God's Arms

Spring is almost here, almost pushing its way from underground, and we are at our appointment to see our baby on an ultrasound. We excitedly enter the exam room and wait for the doctor, who comes in shortly and gets right to work. The lights are dimmed and the room is quiet and there he is! He's so beautiful and perfect, but he's not moving. It does not register with us that something is wrong, that he's supposed to be moving; but he is still. The doctor puts down the transducer and leaves the room, saying she must make a phone call, and that I need to get dressed. We're baffled and wait for her to return, when she tells us to get to our obstetrician's office immediately. No other words, no explanation. This is our first child and we wonder what's wrong and what's going to happen at the OB's office. The drive is short but seems to take forever, and we say nothing to one another in the car.
At the OB's office, we are swiftly taken to my doctor's private office, where he joins us. The words come out of his mouth, but I can not comprehend. He is telling us how sorry he is but that our baby is dead, and that it looks like there were some birth defects, but won't be sure until the baby is out. Out of where? He has to come out? Of my body? This makes no sense to me, and the doctor kindly lets that set in before kneeling in front of my chair to gently explain to me what must happen. He is looking up at me, telling me I have two choices: one a D&E or induction and childbirth. My head is swimming now; childbirth? I have to give birth? Today? I don't know what to do, and I ask him what I should do, what would he do if it were his wife? He explains the risks of the D&E and says he would prefer induction because of the lower risk and that we will be able to see our baby whole and intact.
Then, the pain hits me; my stomach, my head, now it's everywhere. The pain scares me, I have never felt this before and it threatens to get out of control. This is a nightmare, I tell myself, this is not real, this is happening to someone else, and I am just an observer.
I can hardly focus on my surroundings. I can see my husband, tears in his eyes. I can see the doctor handing me a phone so I can call my parents and a friend. I don't know what to say, and I tell them and they cry and say they will be praying and will spread the word. I see the hallway, the door, the parking lot and the car. I see the road to the hospital, another door and hallway, another person who quickly but gently puts us in a room to await another doctor.
Oh, dear, God, the pain hits me again, and I don't know what to do. It's all over my body and now the drugs that started labor have kicked in and there is more pain. My body is wracked with it; physical labor pains and the pain of a breaking heart, my soul is breaking, shattering into sharp shards of glass.
More drugs to lessen the labor pains, but they only make the emotional pain that much clearer and sharper. The room is dark, it's the middle of the night, my husband is sleeping on a nearby couch and I have finally fallen into a light sleep.
But then I feel someone next to the bed, and I feel them put their arms around me, and the comfort that I feel is so intense, so unworldly, supernatural, even. Oh, the arms are soothing and warm, and I don't want them to let go. I open my eyes, sure that my husband was holding me, but he is still sleeping and we are alone. But, no, there was someone there, I am sure of it! I felt their arms!
Then my water breaks, and I call to my husband and he runs for a nurse. The doctor comes in right after, and sits on the edge of my bed and explains that it's time to push, and in the dark room, in the dark night, my first son is born.
And he's lovely, and he's mine, and I want to be the one dead so that he can live. And the pain washes over again, and then he's gone.
In the morning, a nurse helps me get ready to go home; her kindness and empathy a balm to my wounds. And then I am home, and Spring has started to show itself and the world is green. Months of pain and confusion, anger and questions. But those arms I felt; I finally realize there WAS someone in that dark hospital room with us, I just couldn't see.
God is with me always, but it took a wrenching of my heart, a piercing of my body and soul for me to be able to experience His presence, to know what it feels like to be held in the palm of His hand, to know His love and comfort are real.

Andrew Charles Marino
Born but already in Heaven
March 19, 1994