Chapter 1
God, help me.
Nauseous and exhausted, the burning sensation from the magnesium sulfate rushing through her veins pushed Lauren over the edge. Screaming proved unhelpful, but she couldn’t control the tears.
“We’re close, Lauren. Hold on.” Dr. Burns consoled her while stitching Lauren from the c-section.
God, help me. Lauren struggled to take a deep breath as the fire radiated from her chest to her feet. Please, Lord, help me. The pressure in her head increased. God, I need You. She shifted her head to the side when another wave of nausea rolled over her.
Lord, I need You. Lauren swallowed hard. I can’t take anymore...
The words of Psalm 23 ran through her mind.
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
Closing her eyes to escape the blaring fluorescent lights, she recalled accepting Christ at the age of eight. How God continued watching over her, even in her early twenties when she went astray, guiding her back to Him. God, Your hand was always on me, she silently prayed.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
The heaviness in her chest began to lift though her head continued pounding. Lauren remembered how the Lord provided through the years—financially before she married Adam, rest when exhaustion hit during their travels, and peace as she grieved Adam’s death.
“You’re doing great.” The voice seemed far away although the nurse stood beside Lauren monitoring her vitals. “Keep breathing.”
He leads me beside quiet waters.
The peace that surpassed all understanding covered her night after lonely night while listening to the Bible or Adam’s worship album. The past three months as her preeclampsia worsened, God continued to bring her to a place of rest as she meditated on and listened to His Word. Early this morning when she woke with fear in her heart, Tyler read Romans 8 with her. His prayers brought her to a point of worshiping God despite the pain.
He refreshes my soul.
Sitting at the beach with Tyler in the days following Adam’s passing, she had found comfort and clarity. As she inhaled the salty air, felt the cool ocean breeze on her face, heard the rushing waves and the seagulls overhead, she had released her frustration, sadness, and anger to the Lord. Certainty had filled her heart that God was still in control.
He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.
Thank You, Lord, Lauren silently prayed, for the opportunity to visit the Angel Houses this year to see the fruit. Thank You for the blessings that have come from following You.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.
For two decades depression had plagued her, but the Lord brought her to a place in the past year of identifying her triggers, standing on His Word, and sharing her struggle with others for support. And then, just a month before, He healed her completely when Pastor Max and his wife Joyce prayed over her. Thank You, God, for doing the final work of healing. The physical pain is worth the release of the mental torment I’ve endured. Opening her eyes, Lauren stared at the numbers on the monitor that were no longer climbing, but not yet dropping.
Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Comfort me now, Father. Heal me from this affliction as well.
Air slowly filled her lungs as her weeping subsided. She returned to verse one of Psalm 23. All she could recall were the first four verses, so she continued to recite them in her mind, focusing on the truth rather than the pain.
“We’re done,” Dr. Burns announced when she was on her seventh cycle of repeating the psalm. “The orderlies and nurse will take you to the dark room to continue your twenty-four-hour treatment. I’ll be in after a while to check on you.”
“Okay,” she managed to whisper.
“Hang in there,” his grandfatherly voice calmed her. “David needs you to be strong.”
David. The pain that radiated down her face couldn’t steal her joy. My baby is finally here. Thank You, Lord, for the gift of David.
God, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.
The thought invaded Tyler’s mind as he stood behind the nurses fussing over David in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Reaching to rub his forehead, he found himself still wearing the surgical hat. He sighed, glancing at the matching yellow gown. Minutes before he had been in the operating room beside Lauren, praying for her life as the doctor delivered her baby. Now he stood in this sterile icebox of a room surrounded by beeping monitors and three rows of infants so tiny they didn’t seem real. Including Lauren’s son. Two nurses quickly washed David, then attempted to place wires on him while he squirmed and screamed. Yet it wasn’t David’s scream Tyler heard. It was Lauren’s. The shriek that brought tears to his eyes and stopped his heart echoed in his head.
No, Lord, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“So, dad,” the nurse’s grumpy voice pulled him back to reality, “what we’re doing…”
“I’m not dad,” Tyler snapped. “His father passed away from cancer six months ago.”
Gray hair pulled back tightly in a bun, the stout woman reminded him of the fifth-grade teacher he despised. “Only parents and grandparents are allowed in the NICU for extended periods of time. So, I’m assuming you’re dad.”
Tyler sighed.
“What’s his name?” The younger nurse’s sweet disposition balanced the abrupt one.
“David. David Richard Riley.”
She held a glove open for him. “Maybe you can put these on and hold David’s arms while we finish. It’s good to talk to him. Audio stimulation is important, especially voices he heard in the womb.”
Once his hands were gloved, Tyler made his way toward David’s head.
“Hi, little man.” Tyler’s thumb and index fingers almost covered David’s tiny arms completely. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We can’t go for nachos or ice cream yet, but I promise as soon as you’re big enough I’ll take you and your mommy to our favorite Mexican restaurant.”
The screaming stopped. David’s eyes opened. Tyler’s pulse quickened. He felt like he was staring into Lauren’s crystal blue eyes.
“You have mommy’s eyes.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, then inspected David’s tiny hands. Long and slender fingers like Adam. “And your daddy’s hands. He was an amazing pianist. Maybe you’ll be gifted like that, too. Or super smart like your mommy. She’s the smartest woman I know.”
With each word Tyler spoke, David’s movements lessened. When the nurses finished, the older one patted Tyler on the back. “Good job, dad. It’s obvious he knows your voice well. We’re going to close him up in the incubator to get him warm and cozy while the machines regulate his breathing and record his oxygen levels.”
Tyler followed her three rows forward to an empty incubator. The name card on the side read, “Baby Boy Riley.”
She motioned to a rocking chair beside it. “Feel free to sit and talk to him.”
Exhaustion hit when he slid into the chair. “How about I read some psalms?” Tyler pulled out his phone. “You seemed to love that when you were in mommy’s tummy.”
The orderlies wheeled her bed into a dark, silent room.
At least I can suffer in peace, Lauren thought.
“Is there anything I can get you?” the nurse asked.
“My phone so I can listen to the Bible.” The urge to shift was stifled by the awareness that she couldn’t move because of the spinal from her c-section. “My fuzzy blanket from my room.”
“Are you cold? I can put another blanket on you.”
“I’d like mine, please. Can my dad come in?”
“I’ll check.” The nurse patted her arm. “I know it’s difficult, but try and relax.”
“Thank You, God, for the dark,” she said aloud once alone. “Thank You for bringing me through surgery. Thank You for David.” She inhaled and exhaled as another wave of heat came over her. “Thank You for being my shepherd and taking care of me. Thank You that You are with me.”
Her favorite song from the concert she took Tyler to for his birthday in June came to mind. God holding her as He held the stars, calming her as He calmed the sea. The truth of it quieted her heart. In her mind, she raised her hands to worship the Lord, surrendering her pain to Him. Hold me closer, Lord, calm my heart and mind.
“Hi, pumpkin.”
“Hi, Dad.” Lauren could only make out her dad’s figure in the dark as he walked toward her.
“How are you?”
“Awful. The magnesium feels like fire in my veins.”
“I brought your blanket.” Tucking it around her, he pulled it under her chin.
Lauren nuzzled her face against it, remembering the day Adam gave it to her on their tour in Washington State. Sneaking up from behind, he wrapped it around her. For the first time in days she felt warm.
“A warm, snuggly blanket for my warm, snuggly kitten,” Adam had said.
“We got a glimpse of David in the hallway outside the NICU. Tyler went in with him.”
“Does he have Adam’s hands?” Lauren tried to recall what her baby looked like, but her glimpse was too brief and blurry.
“I couldn’t really see.”
The silence told her that her father was fighting tears.
“We’ll be okay, Dad. It’ll take some time, but we’ll be okay. Can you read the Bible to me? That will help.”
“Sure, pumpkin. Any particular chapter?”
“Romans 8, please.”
She only knew the passing of the hour by a different person coming to visit. Shortly after her father left, the ability to move her legs came. Though she hoped moving would stop the burning, it didn’t.
Her best friend, Shelly, read some psalms to Lauren, and her sister-in-law, Ruth, read Philippians. She couldn’t focus on the words and their meaning, but hearing them calmed her spirit. God’s Word washing over her lifted her to a new reality beyond the burning sensation and head pain.
“Hey, girlfriend.”
She recognized her assistant Beth’s voice immediately.
“I wondered if you were here,” Lauren said.
“Of course. Sorry I didn’t make it to the prayer meeting. Five was a bit too early for me, but I prayed the whole way over. I’ve been here since six.”
Lauren heard a nurse come in as well. “Is David okay?”
“They say he’s getting comfy in his new environment. They want to start a feeding tube soon, so I came to help you pump.”
Apprehension came over Lauren. “Is it going to hurt?”
“Probably.” Beth sighed. “Yes, it’ll be awful. Just remember it’s for your little man.”
Tyler awoke to a hand on his shoulder. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced up to see Lauren’s father, Richard, standing beside him.
“She needs you,” Richard said. “I’ll stay with David.”
Still in a daze, Tyler took in his surroundings. David slept in the incubator beside him. Nurses busied themselves with the other newborns. Phone in his hand, his Bible app was still open to Psalm 5. “Did she ask for me?”
“No, but she’s in a lot of pain. We can’t help her the way you can.” Tyler saw tears in Richard’s eyes. “She needs you beside her to hold her hand.”
Tyler stood with a stretch. His entire body ached.
“Shelly has a sandwich and coffee for you.” Richard patted his back. “I’ll be praying for both of you. Text me if you need anything.”
Leaving his yellow surgical gown and hat in the NICU, Tyler ran his hands through his hair on the way to the waiting room. Rubbing his eyes only increased the sandpaper feeling inside them.
Lord, I’m exhausted, he prayed, You need to help me through this.
On the edge of the blue chair in the NICU waiting room, Shelly sat shaking her right foot. A bag and two cups of coffee were on the table beside her.
Slipping into the hard, plastic chair, Tyler accepted a coffee and the small bag. “Thanks.” He immediately sipped the coffee, thankful for its warmth. “How is she?”
“Really pathetic.” Shelly frowned. “Says the magnesium feels like fire in her veins.”
“I heard her scream as we left the OR.” Chills crept up the back of his neck at the remembrance. “I was praying for her, before I fell asleep reading to David. Besides the pain, is she talking, responsive?”
“She’s completely coherent.” Shelly searched his face, narrowing her eyes. “What happened in labor?”
“Her blood pressure spiked and she stopped responding.” Tyler dropped his gaze to the cup in his hands. “Then she said Adam’s name.” He fought the tears, recalling the fear of losing her.
Shelly gently rested her hand on his shoulder. “She’s okay now. Just in a lot of pain. Like over the top, the past two months magnified by a hundred.” Shelly sighed. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
He rubbed his eyes, wishing the caffeine would kick in. “What time is it?”
“Quarter after eleven. How’s David?”
Tyler pulled a bacon and egg bagel sandwich from the bag. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma. “Stable. Lots of tubes and wires. He’s super tiny. Probably best that she can’t see him right now.” He took a bite. “Where are the others?”
“The cafeteria. I figure we’ll probably go.” Shelly sighed. “I don’t think Lauren wants to be around anyone except you.”
“Probably a good idea,” he said between bites. “All you can do is pray.”
“I asked Richard to text me with updates, especially when she comes out tomorrow. Beth said they’re going to wait as long as they can to release the announcement of David’s birth. Only the prayer chain knows so they can be praying for Lauren and David. Beth also called Daryl. He’ll be in tomorrow when she gets out of the treatment room to stand guard outside her hospital room or the NICU. Wherever you want him.”
“That’s good. I suppose I should go home at some point to sleep and shower.”
Shelly shook her head. “I can’t believe she has to go through this for twenty-two more hours.”
“Eclampsia is horrific.” Seizures, loss of consciousness, death. Tyler paused at the recollection of the symptoms, suddenly losing his appetite. “We want to do whatever is necessary to stop it from progressing.”
“She really stopped responding?”
Tyler couldn’t look into Shelly’s eyes for fear of breaking down. “Keep praying. That’s the best you can do.” Dropping the remaining half of the sandwich in the bag, he took another drink of coffee before standing. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
Shelly leapt to her feet to hug him. “Take good care of her.”
“I will.”
“No, in all this we are more than conquerors,” Lauren attempted to recite her favorite verse from memory. “I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither pain nor suffering,” she arched as the pain traveled down her back, “nor hardships nor uncertainty,” it pulsed through her legs to her feet, “nothing can ever separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The pressure in her head increased as if a rubber band was being tightened around it. “Absolutely nothing.”
At the sound of the door clicking open, she gripped her blanket. Please, God, no more. I can’t take anymore—
“Hey, you.” Tyler’s voice immediately melted away her anxiety.
“How’s David?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“He’s good, stable.” She heard him sit before taking her hand in his. “They cleaned him up and have him on a ventilator. His oxygen level is low, which didn’t surprise the doctor. He has a lot of tubes and wires connected to him, but they said that’s normal for a guy his size.”
“How big is he?”
“Four pounds, a few ounces. Doctor was impressed with that, too.”
Tears filled Lauren’s eyes. “He’s that tiny?”
“He is. But you’re right, he has Adam’s long, slender fingers. And your beautiful blue eyes.” He squeezed her hand. “How are you?”
“Feels like fire in my veins. That’s fun.” Lauren started to roll onto her side until the pain of her incisions hit. She moaned, squeezing Tyler’s hand.
Tyler brushed her bangs to the side. “I’m sorry.”
“I only have, what, twenty more hours to go?”
“Something like that.” Tyler leaned in close enough that Lauren could feel his breath on her cheek. “He’s cute, even covered with tubes. I can’t wait for you to see him.”
“Me, too.” She tried to picture him in her mind. “It all happened so fast, I don’t remember what he looks like.”
“The best of Adam and the best of you. I love his name. It suits him.”
“It came to me a few days ago.” She leaned her head against his. “My head might burst and I’m nauseous. Plus I feel like a human fireball. I don’t know that I can take this.”
“But you’re here,” Tyler whispered. “You gave us a scare in the delivery room.”
Lauren smacked her lips. Her mouth was so dry, yet the nurse said she couldn’t have water. “I don’t know what happened. Everything faded away. Then I heard Adam’s voice. First he was singing, then he was calling me.”
“You said his name several times.”
“He wanted me to stay. He kept asking me to stay.”
The room filled with silence. Lauren felt Tyler’s tears on her face.
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I’m here, just falling apart.” She squeezed his hand. “Will you pray for me?”
Tyler took a deep breath before beginning. “Lord, thank You for bringing Lauren through surgery. Please take away her headache. Lower her blood pressure and lessen the side effects of the magnesium. Fill her with peace as she waits on You for healing. Thank You for David. Bless him. Strengthen his tiny body. Develop his lungs completely. Through all this may Lauren and he be witnesses of Your mighty power. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen.” The tension was released from her shoulder as he massaged it. “Thank you.”
“Have you slept at all?”
“No. Don’t know that I can with this stuff coursing through my veins.” Lauren shifted. “Will you stay with me?”
“Sure. Your dad is with David, so I can be in here as long as you want.” Tyler pulled out his phone. “Should I read to you?”
“Yes, please.” She rested her right hand on her pounding head.
“How about Romans 8?” he asked.
The last words Lauren remembered were her favorite.
“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.”
“Nothing,” she whispered.
Tyler stared at her, the glow from his phone revealing the tranquility on her face. It had been several minutes since she squirmed and whimpered. Thank You that she can rest in You though she’s in pain. Please cure her of this. Bring her through without anymore complications.
“Time for more magnesium.” The nurse entered with a tiny flashlight to find her way.
“She finally fell asleep,” Tyler said. “Is there any way you can wait? Maybe even a half hour?”
“Sorry.” She hung the new IV bag. “We have a strict schedule to keep.”
Within minutes, Lauren began moaning.
Tyler patted her hand. “It’s okay, Lauren. They had to give you more magnesium.”
“I’m on fire, I’m on fire!” she screamed, tossing and turning.
“You’re okay,” Tyler said calmly though his own heart raced. “It’s the medicine, remember?”
She squeezed Tyler’s hand so tightly her nails dug into his skin. “It’s awful. I can’t take this.” The weeping began again.
“Nothing can separate you from His love.” Tyler scrolled through his phone and pushed play on Adam’s worship album. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”
She pushed away his hand. “You should be with David. Go to David.”
“Your dad is with David. He’s okay. I need to be here.”
“I think I might be sick.” She groaned.
Tyler glanced around for a trash can, but couldn’t find one. “Turn to the left and I’ll catch it.”
Lauren chuckled briefly and then moaned. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“You’re right, this is way too serious for that.” He kissed her forehead. “Just breathe, Angel. Focus on the music and breathe. God’s got you. You’re going to be okay.”
She opened her eyes. Lauren couldn’t make out his face in the darkness, but she knew he was close. The softness of her blanket when he tucked it around her reduced her anxiety.
“I’m thankful God brought you through the surgery, that David has lots of nurses and doctors who know what they’re doing, and that I can be with you.” Tyler leaned in closer to her ear. “What are you thankful for?”
“My blanket, my baby, you.” Lauren closed her eyes.
“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus,” Tyler whispered. “We’ll get through this, minute by minute, hour by hour, together.”
The music played, her tears fell, and she worshiped. The pain raged through her body, but as she sang the words in her mind, peace washed over her. With each breath, she knew the fire would not overtake her. God was beside her, holding her. He would see her through.