Tip of My Iceberg

He finally came. With all the fanfare and audience participation expected for occasions such as these.

Mason made his entrance into the world.

Our pokey puppy of a grand took his sweet time. The doctor told my daughter Tiffany and her husband Ramsay at their last visit that she  believed him to be a big boy, and if Tiffany wanted to have a vaginal delivery, she didn’t want him to get much bigger.

They scheduled an induction for early Tuesday morning.

With the decision made, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The baby would come. The parents might have some control about when it would happen.

They checked in to the hospital at 7 in the morning, and the work began.

Wonderful doctors and nurses worked with them throughout the day. I was there with Ramsay’s folks, and two-year-old Brooklyn was with us asking when Mason would come out to play.

It had been a rough day. Tiffany finally got an epidural for the pain, which was helpful. She didn’t progress quickly. The nurses noticed the baby’s heart rate would occasionally drop with the contractions. He also didn’t tolerate the use of certain drugs to help concentrate the contractions to make them more efficient.

There were whispers of a possible C-section. Tif wanted to avoid that if at all possible. She’d had one with Brooklyn because the baby had been in stress and when she was finally delivered, the cord had been wrapped around her neck twice.

Tif wanted to persevere. The doctor said the little big guy had great recovery periods, so they pushed ahead.

But after being poked and prodded for hours, when it came time to push, Tif was exhausted. I got to stay in the room with them and be part of her cheering team, but I was exhausted watching what they were going through. She gave it everything she had, and she and Ramsay worked like a precision team. And when Mason was finally born,we all seemed to let go of our collective breaths.

Everyone was grateful.

It didn’t stop there. Tif tore badly, and she lost a lot of blood and fluid. As I watched them weigh and measure my newest grand, I turned to see Tif, still bleeding and looking white as a ghost.

It took over an hour to suture the tears, to control the bleeding. They had to transfuse her because of the great amount of blood loss.

But when they put Mason on her chest, her smile was radiant. It cost her a lot to bring that little boy into the world. But the love she has for him made it worth it.

Parents are typically like that. Loving their child and doing whatever it takes to provide for their health and safety.

Jesus made His great sacrifice that we could be brought into new life. New hope. Eternal safety. His shed blood is the only path by which we may be fully forgiven and fully received.

The price of hope for new life and the guarantee of heaven is one that was paid by Someone else’s blood.

Not a cost anyone else would choose to cover.