Chapter Three
By Diane Krentel Hodge
At first married life was pretty much how I had imagined it. It was sheer joy to spend all the time you could with the man of your dreams. The “give and take” of those first few years were, for the most part, effortless due to our love for each other. The first burnt meal, shrunk piece of laundry, scorched shirt, lack of good communication, seem to “squeak-by” with no real lasting negative outcome. And just like my childhood dream, we soon were talking of having that big family I always wanted. In my naiveté, I assumed getting pregnant would go without a hitch, like everything else in our marriage to date.
My heart nearly soared from just the thought of being pregnant. I was so eager to be a Mom. But It wasn’t long when we realized that having a family wasn’t as effortless as we thought.
One month piled upon another, with no pregnancy. Before we knew it a year went by. And with this year, monthly tears of disappointment and failure. Months of taking my temperature each morning religiously to catch the “optimum moment”, eating the right foods, and reading every fertility book I could get my hands on. The quest became my daily focus and a monumental trial. My “Mother-in-Love” who was a bit of a tease, would jest and try to cheer us up by stating, “Oh, you guys just don’t have the recipe!”
Needless to say, we dutifully kept trying, all to no avail. During these three years of doctor appointments, charts, fertility pills, negative pregnancy tests, and tearful monthly cycles, I slowly began to let the most cherished hope for a family “go”. I was reading Catherine Marshall’s book “Beyond Ourselves”. The chapter, “ the Prayer of Relinquishment” especially ministered to my broken heart. Here is some of her words that I saved in my journal,
“ ACCEPTANCE says I TRUST the good will and love of my God. I’ll open my arms and my understanding to what He has allowed to come to me. Since I know He means to make all things work together for good, I consent to this present situation with HOPE for what the future will bring. The secret is simply this: that the Christian life must be lived in the will, not the emotions.
We stop fighting the evil or less-than-good circumstances.
With that, resentment goes;
Self pity goes.
Perspective comes.
We have turned our back on the problem and are looking steadily at God.
We are acting out our belief in the character of God-His goodness, His Love.
We are acting out our belief in the present power of God-in His participating Presences. (Something More, C.M)
It was as if the Lord was trying to get my attention and help me learn that anything, however good, that I put on a pedestal of my heart as a source of JOY is like an idol. I sensed that He was telling me to take that one thing that is so important, take it off the pedestal, and give it all up and place it in God’s hands. The Lord wanted me to stop trying to control this situation but rather open my hand, so to speak, and relinquish this infertility to Him; giving up what I had always wanted the most and trusting Him.
As I was learning this prayer of relinquishment, I continued going to my doctor. He was a kind old man and he would just pat me on my back and say not to worry and go home and keep trying. During one of my visits, a blood test was drawn which showed my thyroid was low. This would explain somewhat why I was highly irregular. Thyroid pills were prescribed as the magical solution to my problem. Dutifully, I took my thyroid pills with a renewed hope that maybe this would be the magical cure. Sure enough another month and a half went by and I again stumbled on down to the doctor’s office to take another pregnancy test, one more time. And lo and behold, this time the results were different and finally I was pregnant!
What utter joy broke out in the Hodge house. We lived in Ron’s hometown and all the relatives and church friends rejoiced with us. I was flying so high. My nesting activities included buying red baby furniture, knitting a sweater, and making my own maternity clothes. Every where I walked, I would make sure my stomach was pushed way out in front, as I was so proud of my new shape and the life growing inside. No longer would my heart ache each time I saw a pregnant women or heard a baby cry in public. I was going to be a mother! My two baby showers were celebrations to me and each new outfit, I would adoringly lay across my bulging stomach imagining how it would look on my new wee one. My sister in law, Ruthie, was pregnant at the same time and we shared maternity stories across the miles. Everything was back on track it seemed. Happiness reigned. We praised the Lord for this miracle.
I recall the winter of my pregnancy was especially long and there was still snow on the ground by the end of April! I couldn’t wait until spring. They thought I was to deliver somewhere the end of May. By June, being two weeks late, I decided I waited long enough and I tried taking castor liver oil and lo and behold, two and a half hours later, I was definitely in labor and on my way to the hospital! The anticipation was great and we nearly had to pinch ourselves to believe it was finally here after such a long time waiting. When we arrived at the hospital, each little preparation for birth was a happy ritual….even when I put on the lovely hospital gown with matching booties. Soon the baby monitor was attached and we waited for the pains to become closer together.
After several hours it became apparent that the baby’s heart beat on the monitor showed some stress so they wheeled me in to the operating room to move things along. Back then, husbands were not allowed in the delivery room. And I was on my own now. The doctor used forceps to help thing along and before too long the doctor finally announced, “Mrs. Hodge, you have a baby boy!” Matthew, our “gift of God” entered our lives. But almost in the same moment, the doctor whisked the baby away over to another area in the operating room. There was an eerie silence in the room.
Frantically, I asked “Why isn’t the baby crying?”They all were hovering over the baby. I spoke out again more desperately….”What is wrong?”
Soon a rather motherly nurse came over to me and took one of my hands and just held it firmly stating that the baby was alive but there was a problem. I knew right then that it must be something serious. The doctor came over and announced that our long-awaited baby had Spina Bifida, a neurological birth defect. Even with all my experiences of living at Melmark, I asked him to repeat the name and the shock started to settle in. My mind raced , I thought surely this was something that can be fixed. I asked question after question furiously trying to take this all in and make sense of it. The doctor explained that the baby needed to leave right away to another hospital to close up the part of his spine so they could keep the baby from contracting meningitis. I barely got to see the baby or even touch him. He was being rushed over for his first surgery and I was wheeled quickly into the recovery room, all alone, as Ron accompanied the baby to the other hospital in town. I will never forget laying on my back looking at the clock slowly ticking along and listening to the other new mothers in the curtained off areas of the room. Each one was making happy phone calls to their loved ones about their new babies and there was such joy….just a curtain away. My only call was an SOS to my parents and to our pastor. I laid there all alone, filled with questions. Numb. These hours were some of the hardest I have lived through.
Soon our pastor was at my side and I will never forget his presence at this tender time. Pastor Stady was of a sturdy build, tall, and had these very large hands. He asked me how I was doing and I closed my eyes and stated that I was going to “go away” as the pain was too great. He grabbed my weak hand in his large strong one. He didn’t quote any scripture to me but stated very firmly that I was going nowhere and that God would help me bare this pain. His assurance came through his hand and into me as I began to hold on mentally and physically.
Soon I was transferred to the maternity ward, along with the two other happy moms, in the recovery room. When I closed my eyes again in my own private room, I tried to take everything in and rest so that I could get stronger to see my baby. As I rested, I was almost haunted by a tune I sang at a Christian school choir in eighth grade. “ The Lord is my Light and my Salvation…Whom Then Shall I Fear?….the Lord is the Strength of My Life…” I was hearing this song from Psalm 27 over and over again in my head, every time I closed my eyes.
During the next day or so as Ron ran between two hospitals checking on the baby and supporting me and the song remained in my mind. And on the second day of my recovery, my older brother, David, who was a minister, came in for a visit and in his hand he clutched a new Living Letters Bible. He asked me when I felt able, to turn to PSALM 27 and read it! The VERY SAME chapter that was comforting me and haunting me when I rested. Then I knew the Lord was trying to send me a message! The words reminded me that He was my High Tower….a place to run into when the pain was too great …..that He was the strength of my life during this time….and much more. I gloried in this special message to me from the Lord. It still is amazing to me how God uses things in our past …..songs memorized….scriptures memorized and mediated on…all stored away to be drawn upon in times of need.
Three days went rather quickly and soon, I prepared to make my visit over to see my baby in the other hospital. That had been the driving force to keep me going. I’ll never forget that first special visit with Matthew. My anxious hands held him eagerly and carefully as he was connected to all sorts of devices in the incubator. Warm copious tears ran down my cheeks, but my heart was soaring; as now I could hold my little one. Quickly he became dear to us and known to us as the “little fighter.” We watched him valiantly struggle for his life each day.
One day, soon after I came home with no baby, I was resting in the back room. I overheard my parents and Ron whispering in the kitchen. Thinking it was about our Matthew, I got up and asked them what was up. They looked at me glumly and stated that Ron had just checked the mail and he had received his draft notice to go to Vietnam! My mind went spinning out of control as I wondered how I would deal with this double “cross” in my life. I asked “Why Lord?”
Why am I the mother of a handicapped child, just like Melmark’s children? Hadn’t I been willing to give up Martha, then Melissa? Hadn’t I paid my dues already in this area of babies, Lord? And now, could I hold up Ron and entrust him solely to the Lord in this uncertain time of war? How can I do this too? I had much to ponder.
One night in particular, I was very restless and agitated within. I just got up from the dinner table and left the house in a slow run down the street to the edge of the lake near where we lived. No one followed me as I think they knew I needed to be alone. I was at the bottom mentally, as Matthew continued to have one bad day after another and now he was having trouble breathing. The nurses kept telling me “not to worry” but I knew in my mother’s heart, that he may not come home for a long time or not at all. I sat by the lake side and just looked at the sparkling water and God clearly brought to mind the story of Jesus, walking with Peter on the seashore. The Lord asked Peter three times, ”Peter, do you love me?” Each time, Peter would say, “Oh, yes Lord.” I asked myself why, was I thinking of this story? I wondered. In that short moment, it dawned on me that possibly the Lord was asking me firstly to accept and trust Him with the fact I had a handicapped child not a happy healthy child with a bright future. “Yes, Lord, I love you, inspite of this.” Secondly, maybe I had to learn to love and trust Him to learn how to care for him when he finally did come home. “Yes, even so, Lord, I love and trust you.” Thirdly, could it be, God wanted me to love and trust him even if He decided it was best to take Matthew home to heaven? “Yes, Lord, as I cling to the “broken branches of my life” right now….and approach this “huge waterfall” known as death, I confess my love to you anew. I trust you!” Instantly, I felt a peace that I know came from Him. I knew why that story came to my mind. Another lesson. Another reminder to trust and love.
There were the long prayer-times on our knees after scary phone calls from the hospital. I remember one such night when we called everyone we knew in our church and asked for a season of prayer for Matthew, as now he was aspirating his milk into his lungs resulting in severe weight loss and resulting congestion in his lungs. We literally cried out to the Lord over and over again to heal him. He also went through two surgeries during this time to decrease the negative effects of a swelling brain.
But after several weeks, it became clear to us that we need to stop begging the Lord to heal him……rather ask GOD to do His will…whatever that would be. It was just like a lightbulb that went on. That was it! As much as we wanted to have Matthew as our son, alive, we should focus on God’s will for him.. When we started to pray that way, suddenly we had God’s peace and were able to rest even though things looked so grim.
And so it was, in August, our “little fighter” lost his battle to live and quietly slipped away from us to join his Heavenly Father. Completely healed. Able to run with two healthy legs in heaven. Safe in his heavenly Father’s arms. Seven weeks of hope and heartaches came to an abrupt end.
Ron and I held fast to each other in faith knowing that God does not err. For the morning, before we left for the funeral, we turned on the stereo and played the Wheaton Bible Men’s choir singing “ All Praise to God.” That may not seem to make any sense, but we were praising the Lord with tears coming down our faces. We turned the volume way up to maximize the words so they would “buoy-us-up” for the task ahead. We were experiencing the delights of “His participating Presence.”(Catherine Marshall)
And then, we gathered around his tiny white casket sitting there in the graveyard, as the rain just poured down. It was almost as if heaven was sharing our deep-felt grief. Broken hearts. Sad goodbyes. One last touch of the tiny casket before we turned away.
Even though the fig tree should not blossom, and there be no fruit on the vines, though the yield of the olive fail….even “if”…….. I WILL exult in the Lord. I will rejoice in the GOD of my salvation! The Lord is my strength, not my ideas of being a Mom to Mattie or any other child….And He has made my feet like hinds feet!
And then one day, soon after his burial , I turned on some more inspiring hymns and began to pack away, piece by piece, another nursery. But this time, I was all alone, and it was my own child’s nursery, not my sisters’. I reminded myself over and over; “God does not err! There was some reason for Matthew’s short life. I will praise You. I must trust.” God never wastes our pain someone said. Our hardest tests involve our dearest loves. I can testify that God gives you the strength for hard duties when you need it, not before, not after, but just when you need it.
And the LORD is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear, or be dismayed. Deut. 31:8
“Thank you Lord that everything that happens is part of the lesson plan you have for us in the classroom of life. You refuse to let us stay as children. You keep insisting on us growing up.”( Something More CM)
This real life experience build a tapestry of sorts that takes on proportion, purpose and beauty as you stand back and look at the whole sensitive piece. Beauty that comes from real hurts, disappointments as well as the exciting challenges and successes. In this “loom of life”, a gentle nail pierced hand helps to weave the threads of each event through the ins and outs of life, holding the piece strongly together. This same hand holds you on your journey in this reality world.
