Sunday Sentiments

It's been twenty-one years since I had one of the most memorable firsts of my life: watching a sweet newborn take her first breaths of earthly air. I had been assigned the role of videographer, charged with capturing her birth. Nothing made me more nervous. I practiced actually hitting record on that behemoth camcorder so many times. I mean, after all, if you miss the birth, there really isn't a second chance.

I still don't know how many promised final contractions I recorded before the actual final contraction arrived. (I do remember that her mom so sweetly asked me to stop promising it was the last one if I didn't know it to be true.) She'd been laboring for days and hard-laboring for hours. All of us in the room were ready for labor to end and a baby to arrive, but no one was more ready than she.

And finally, it really did end.

The sweet baby slid into the world, and a few minutes later, I slid out of the hospital room and began the drive home. (I'd missed two full days of work for this birth. The first one ended in a false alarm, and the second one just took that many hours! I didn't have more time off and knew the alarm would sound early.)

So I don't have a picture of baby Carol from that first day when I witnessed the miracle that is birth. But I do have this one, taken later:

Carol's parents were friends of mine from church. Every Monday night of her little life, I hung out with her and her mom while her dad went to class. We would watch TV, eat snacks, and I'd pack in as many baby snuggles as I possibly could.

I wasn't nearly the Bekahrazzi I should have been.

I have so few pictures like this one, and I didn't know...none of us knew...that time was so short. 

Twenty-one years ago today, a six-month clock began its countdown, and none of us heard it ticking. We had six months to love on this precious baby girl. 

I was there when she took her first breath. A phone call six months later told me she had taken her last breath. And that news took my breath away and kept it for the longest time.

Carol's life and death has forever marked mine. I loved that little girl so very fiercely. My faith was tested and strengthened because she lived. And because I trust the God of both our stories, I know she still lives today - just not here where we can celebrate twenty-one years of life together.

I am so profoundly grateful to have been there that first day. I still profoundly miss her. And I am still profoundly grateful for how God used her life to mold and shape me.

Happy twenty-first birthday, Carol Elizabeth Anne. Your story will forever be part of mine, and therefore I will always share who you are.