Wednesday, December 31, 2008

That Cry For Help

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.
No.
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
"forgive me."
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
surrender.
That cry for help,
that started in a birthing room,
gave birth to a new life
in me.

Thanks be to God.

12 comments:

Christy said...

I wonder.....is it surrender for everyone?

Can it be a fight for some?

I have a mule-like nature, and surrender is so hard.....but maybe surrender is even MORE important for someone like me.

Must muse on this.

Right now, though, most things are battles fought to the death.

Hope said...

I can only speak for me, Christy.
For me, sometimes the fight is weak and short. Sometimes it is long and strong. For me, peace only come when I stop the fighting and surrender into my HP's loving arms.

Lisa said...

wow... beautiful words, Hope. I needed to read this today. surrender. a good word looking forward at another year.

wilsonian said...

Oh my goodness, Hope! I can't imagine going through that. I am (selfishly) glad that that wasn't your time.

Peace to you...

Gabriella Moonlight said...

I am grateful it was not your time, but I so appreciated the honesty and the truth for me too that it is all surrender...that was how I had to come to my HP too!
Thank you and so glad you are here!!!!

Happy New Year!

annie said...

Hope, I hate to admit it, but I am just as selfish as Wilsonian! :)

I am so glad you survived, and very thankful that you were given the gift and the ability to be able to share your journey with such clarity.

Chris said...

I'm so glad you made the choice you did. Happy birthday!

Black Pete said...

Glad you stuck around, Hopester.

Lou said...

Beautiful piece of writing.

I read once that the white light is part of our genetic make up so that we do accept death when it is really our time.
I don't know if I believe that, but that is a theory.

Heidi Renee said...

poignant and beautifully articulated. you may have not been able to put it into words before, but you did so here and i am so grateful.

Steve F. said...

I am another one who is very glad your ticket did not get punched back then.

I keep hearing things in meetings about "the phone weighs 1,000 pounds." I pointed out in a meeting tonight that the phone receiver only weighs about 8 ounces; it's our own pride and refusal to ask for help (refusal to surrender) that weighs so much.

I'm glad you're writing about this. And I'm glad to be one of those who gets to tag along on your journey!

Mary P Jones (MPJ) said...

Such a powerful post. Thanks for sharing. And I'm so glad you are here to do it.