Twenty-one years ago today
I nearly died
in a birthing room.
I've never been able to adequately describe
that white diamond like light in the corner
of the ceiling
which tried to suck me into its vortex.
Dearest one was holding youngest son in his arms.
We were alone in the birthing room.
When I told him I thought I was going to faint
he said, "so faint."
I told him if I did I wasn't coming back.
The next thing I remember was waking up with
the code team surrounding me.
I was tipped nearly upside down
so that the remaining blood
could reach my brain and heart.
There was a nurse at my head saying
"her blood pressure is 60 over 40."
Blood was pouring out of me
like milk on cereal.
I've never forgotten that sound.
My thoughts that night were not ones
where my life was flashing before my eyes.
Too weak to speak aloud,
I was talking to God in my head.
I went back and forth dozens of times
between two thoughts.
One - that I didn't want to die
but if it was His will
then so be it.
Sandwiched between that thought
were the words
I didn't know what I needed forgiveness for
but I knew I was perilously close
to seeing God.
When I awoke after surgery
God had my attention.
I realized there was no playing around
with this God thing.
Either I was going to take God seriously
or I wasn't.
The choice was mine.
It took 3 months, to the day, to choose.
The only thing that got me sober,
kept me sober,
still keeps me sober,
can be summed up
in the word
That cry for help,
that started in a birthing room,
gave birth to a new life
Thanks be to God.