I have already mentioned when bad things happen I run. Hard and fast. (again, not literally. I have bad knees you know). But after the running away no this isn’t happening you cannot catch me pain phase is what I like to call the 2 year old who skipped nap phase for me. The WHHHHHHYYYY. If you are a mother you read that in the exact tone of your angel baby from heaven who you have heard say that 732 times….this week.

Why me God? Its such a whiney unattractive phase. But hey I’ll own it. I always go through it. And God patiently loves me and thinks I am wonderful. Much like me when I look at my two year old terror (I mean angel baby) asks WHHHHYYYY can I not watch George again mom?? Why can I not have skittles for breakfast?? Why can we not go swimming in January??? I digress. But I do. I go through this phase. Why do I have to love this person God? Why do I have to wait on the answer? Why can I not have my plan A or plan B? I made such careful notes! And He just sits there. Quietly loving. Throwing buckets of grace my way and waiting. Waiting for that faith and trust He has put in me. Waiting for me to see that He has never failed. Never disappointed. Never abandoned. That His ways are always good. His love is better than life. But alas, I always have to make it through this phase. And so that happened here with my sweet cleft baby.

My why me lasted about 6 weeks at the end of my pregnancy. Couple that with being incredibly uncomfortably pregnant chasing around a 5 year old and 2 year old in JULY HEAT and you’ll see I was in a word *pleasant* to be around. I got mad. I got angry. I got whiny.

Why did he have a cleft? Why did we have to walk this road? Why did people have to keep telling me “God gives special babies to special parents?” (ugh! More on that later) Why had you not taken this away? Why did you not heal him? Why did I live 2.5 hours away from the specialist I was having to see once every 2 weeks to “check on things?” Each time I saw that wide little hole in the 4D ultrasound I said enthusiastically, “welp there it is.” The ultra sound tech always laughed nervously not sure if I was happy or not. (side note ultrasound techs are amazing people. They have to deal with some of the craziest most neurotic clientele ever. Anyways..)

August 4 we drove with our kids to the city. We were meeting my family there and going to spend the night at a hotel across the street so that it would not be a big drive the next morning. We ate at road house that night. Because um come on. My last night of being pregnant ever I was going to gorge myself on rolls with cinnamon butter. Duh. Then went back to the hotel preparing to sleep. We were going to meet him the next day. The kids slept in my parents room so we wouldn’t have to wake them the next day as we went to the hospital at 6 am. I “slept” a bit that night full of nervous energy. I got up early the next morning and showered and did my hair and make up. That’s the beauty of a c section right? You actually get to look good in your pictures. Right? Right. (PS you pinterest mamas with your model like post baby looks. We cannot hang. At all. I looked like a ghost zombie after all 3 babies for at least 2 weeks. SO take your pro pics and…. Ok back to the subject)

We drove across the street and walked inside the hospital. A million things were explained to me. Forms were signed. Gowns on. Weird socks. I was told they would bring me back for surgery in 1.5 hours. I was a bit annoyed because I was starving, but ok I can now prepare. I made small talk with the sweet nurse and acted like I was completely fine. We laughed about how I freaked out right before my c section with Selah Grace and I had tried to leave the hospital bed with IV in and just run away in my gown. Ha ha. I chuckled pretending like I wasn’t doing the very same thing. The doctor came in and introduced himself. Oh yes nice to meet you man I have never seen before who will bring one of the most important people in my life to this world. Yes it is so nice to see you. WHAT? That’s crazy business. Then the anesthesiologist- again hi nice to meet you yes please make sure I don’t feel them ripping a baby out of me all while I lay there wide awake.

They all left and gave Michael and I a moment alone. That’s when the terror set in. I cried. I screamed. I remember feeling like I would actually just die. Right then and there. Absolute terror and absolute fear. It gripped me like an anaconda and I decided I would pass on having the baby that day. No sir thank you very much. Let’s try again tomorrow or never. Remember me and hard things. Not so much. I will just go ahead and leave and go eat some chicken minis from chick fil a. Yep that sounded better. Then exactly 3 minutes later (1.5 hours my bottom) they came in and said “its time.”

I walked back to the room holding Michael’s hand. They then showed Michael to his holding room to get all gowned up and I was left in a very cold room with a bunch of people I had never met. They were all busying about getting trays and instruments and towels ready. They numbed me and my heart began to settle a bit. They prepped for surgery and Michael came in sat with me. I do not remember how much time passed, but I don’t think it was very long. Lots of tugging and pulling and then that sound. That sweet baby cry. They showed me his little smooshed face over the curtain and the tears just flowed. Happy tears. Scared tears. Tears of relief. I remember telling Michael his face looked a lot worse than I thought it would and I was scared. He reassured me and told me he was ok. I even think I may have said he looked like a duck. I don’t know it was all very crazy and there were lots of drugs in me. But a little while after that we got great news. His palate was barely affected. It was only through his gum line. Big relief and lots of happy tears. I remember just resting and letting everything be finished up and all in a second it was over. They threw Shane across my chest and wheeled me to our room.

I had IVs and was still completely paralyzed so I couldn’t lift up or adjust him or anything so I just kind of laid there like a dead fish with this crying wiggling little baby on me. We got to the room and Michael took him for a minute. A nurse showed him how to use the Pigeon bottle so he could eat. And I was able to rest for a bit.

The whole day was a blurr. Siblings meeting. Grandparents crying. Friends and family and facebook informed. He was here. He was healthy. He was ours. I remember that night still feeling so unsure. But just being glad that it was finally over. The weight and anxiety over. He was here in front of us. He cried a lot that night and I don’t remember much over the next few days.

But then Friday came.

Michael had to run home for a funeral. (pastor’s life) And I was alone. (I mean not really alone. Nurses were one call button away). But it was just me and Shane. I remember I got to shower and get up and walk a bit. I slept off and on when Shane allowed it. But I remember the moment I realized it would be ok. The surgeon had been there the day he was born and told us that he looked amazing and this would be an easy fix. Hearing test was passed. He was eating just fine. All these things checked off the list one by one that could’ve been awful. And then there that Friday in the room alone just him and me we locked eyes for the first time. That little wide lip face looked up at me and I looked at him. And I remember just whispering thank you.

The whys were gone and that thanks overflowed. Thank you for a safe delivery. Thank you for tests passed. Thank you for letting him eat easily from bottle. Thank you that his palate was minimally affected. Thank you for the unilateral cleft and not a bilateral. Thank you for 10 fingers and 10 toes. Thank you for this road.

I usually get over my whyyyyys stage and enter into a suck it up and get through it stage. But this was different. I remember the Lord just speaking to my heart. Not words. Not sounds. Just peace. Peace upon peace. Flowing down all over me. This was my son. I loved him and I would care for him. I would walk through fire or worse another 6 months of pregnancy for this kid. Not the kid that would be “fixed” in a few months. The one in the future that everyone said “you won’t even be able to tell” that he had a cleft. The one with a perfect complete face. THIS Shane Mark Taylor. This one right here. I was overjoyed with tears. I remember him laying his sweet head on my shoulder and napping on my chest for an hour while I softly wept in front of the Holy Father who had been there every step of the way. I laid there and just cried, “Thank you.”