Dedicated to Haley, Zack and Korey…
It has taken me more than a week to find the words to write this story.
It’s the story of 19 hours of courage, faith and love leading to the birth of my grandson, Korey Evander-Ray Wilkes.
The story of 19 hours that I failed to capture a single photograph with my camera…
From the moment the water broke, things headed downhill in a hurry.
With every pain you felt, my heart was breaking.
Why were your numbers going so high on the monitors, while his went so low?
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
[There should be a picture here]
My camera sat on the shelf without me picking it up even one time during these hours. It wasn’t because I knew that you would have kicked my tush for taking pictures of you during labor. It just simply never crossed my mind.
I began a love/hate relationship with the anesthesiologist.
I loved the way his soothing voice calmed you. I loved knowing that in a few minutes you would begin to feel some relief. But when I saw him inserting the needle, even as the contractions continued, I hated him.
[There should be a picture here]
There are no pictures of the hours of you pushing so long and so hard that your face turned purple and small blood vessels began to burst in your eyes. Nearly 3 hours of pushing had resulted in no progress.
I saw the terror in your eyes when the doctor and nurse began to argue if you needed a caesarian section or not.
[There should be a picture here]
I heard my own voice telling the doctor that I was not willing for them to put you through more. It was just too much. Another voice added that it was time, but still the doctor hesitated.
I could see nothing but your face filled with pain and exhaustion.
I wanted so badly to fix it for you.
Then I heard your voice quietly saying you were done.
In that moment, the look of defeat on your face brought me to my knees.
I looked to the heavens with tears in my eyes and wondered if God could hear my prayers or if I was just fooling myself.
With a sudden flurry of activity, you were being taken to surgery with Zack by your side. It was then that I realized the team had already been assembled and they were waiting for you. You had already long since been prepped for surgery.
[There should be a picture here]
Every minute turned to hours while I waited. The nurses refused to tell me anything beyond the fact that your child had been delivered. I think I cussed and cleaned your room 127 times while I waited for you to return. Still, I did not pick up the camera.
I had failed to capture a single moment so far.
The click of the hospital door made me jump so fast that I nearly slipped. They were pushing you (backwards) into your room. You looked up at me and said, “Look what I made mama!” The look of pure joy on your face was beyond priceless.
It was then that I saw him there in your arms.
The world stood still.
[There should be a picture here]
I looked to the heavens once again, and whispered, “thank you”.
It wasn’t until later that we learned that the moment you initially saw as defeat, was the moment that likely saved your son’s life. The cord had been wrapped around his neck 4 times, keeping him from moving further during your labor.
During the long days and nights in the hospital, I picked up my camera a time or two for a quick snapshot, but still, I did not feel like I had captured even a single moment. Perhaps it was that he was so tiny. Or maybe his struggle with jaundice was still worrying me. More likely though is that I was hung up on the miracle of his birth and how easily I could have lost either one of you.
Maybe the moments being captured digitally didn’t even matter because each and every one is burned forever into my memory and my heart.
More than a week after the birth of my grandson, Korey Evander-Ray Wilkes, I finally captured the moments I had been waiting for.
Thank you for allowing us to share these moments with you!
