35
Flashpoints lit Juliet’s pathway to consciousness. First came the ghost of a debilitating bout of nausea that had hit her like a fist to the stomach. Next came the recollection of hard, biting contractions and stiffness that had overridden her entire body. She remembered trying to brace against the sickness, pain, and paralysis—the way every bit of effort she possessed had gone into remaining conscious. The last thing she recalled was stumbling then sinking onto blessedly cold grass. Blackness had inched inward from there. Velvety peace and freedom had pulled her into an inexorable surrender—and she had felt Kellen’s arms around her.
Fighting her way back to the present, Juliet tried to open her eyes. Black turned to gray then went way too bright during the attempt, so she gave up. She tried to lick her lips. The effort was beyond her, because her mouth was dry, metallic tasting and gritty.
“Kellen…” The single word wouldn’t be denied, even though the act of speaking burned against her parched throat. A breath of air slid against her exposed left arm and in an instant—just like the moment when she had lost consciousness—she felt him at her side. She turned her head just slightly and groaned, forcing her eyes open this time, no matter what.
And Kellen was right there. Juliet watched him lean close and lower the guardrail so he could sit next to her. “Hey, love.”
Beneath bed blankets, her right hand strayed to her stomach—considerably shrunken and blooming with pain. Realization struck her all at once. “The baby—”
“Shh…shh…she’s fine. She’s fine.” Soothing her quietly, Kellen kissed her forehead, taking his time, lingering.
“She?” Juliet’s heart hammered so hard she could have sworn it vibrated against the thin white bed sheet.
“She. Brittany is in the NICU.”
Before he could continue, Juliet’s chest began to heave. Brittany was the name they had decided on if their baby ended up being a girl. Tears sprang to her eyes and poured down her face. “No! That can’t be! It’s too early. She’s going to be in trouble—”
Once again, Kellen hushed her tenderly and edged in even closer despite the complication of IV bottles and clear, plastic lines attached to her secured left arm. “She needs some time for her lungs to develop so she’s going to be here in the hospital for a while, but she’s fine.”
Juliet sobbed, verging on hyperventilation. Kellen stroked her hair. He looked deep into her eyes. “Please relax. Be still—breathe in slow.”
“I have to see her. Now.” Juliet started to sit up, ready to bolt. A burst of pain speared straight through her, stemming from her midsection.
Heaven above, help me,
she thought,
I’ve been through a Caesarean section—major surgery.
Kellen pressed her back gently into the pillows. She relaxed, but only a trace. “I can hardly move.”
“Give it time.”
“You promise me she’s OK?”
“Yes, I promise. The nurse will come and get you when the doctor authorizes your first walk. It shouldn’t be long. You’ll get to see her in just a bit. Right now you need to rest.”
Juliet’s lips quaked.
In words and soft touches, he ministered to the gaping hole in her heart. She forced herself to uncurl from the onslaught of tension until silence was broken only by the sound of her breath evening out.
“We need to trust,” he continued gently. “We need to keep faith.”
Juliet nodded but went adrift nonetheless.
“Will you pray with me?” he asked.
Prayer was exactly what she needed. Kellen took hold of her unencumbered hand, and Juliet experienced a flow of much-needed peace. Her grip tightened on his fingers and she nodded. For a moment, Kellen closed his eyes in silence…perhaps assembling the right words.
“Jesus, thank you.” He bowed his head close to hers. “Thank you for already knowing what we face. Thank you for already going to work for us, and for Brittany. You know our hearts and our fears. You know the plans You have for us. Thank you for carrying us through the storm. Uphold Juliet as she heals. Keep Brittany safe in Your hands as she continues to grow. Be with the doctors and nurses who are caring for them both, and keep us calm and steady in the truth of Your word—that in You is our help, and in You is our strength.”
“Amen,” they murmured in unison.
At last, Juliet found she could relax.
****
“Mrs. Rossiter? How are you feeling?” A squat, middle-aged nurse entered the hospital room a couple of hours later, rousing Juliet from a nap. The woman sported a uniform top bursting with pastel colors.
“I feel like the baseball instead of the bat.”
The woman—Rayleen according to her laminated ID badge—answered with a bubbling laugh. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but it’s about to get even better. Are you ready to take a stroll?”
Brittany.
Finally
, Brittany. Juliet firmed herself and nodded. “You bet I am. Straight to the NICU, if possible.”
“I assumed as much, and I think that can be arranged.”
The process took some time. When Juliet tried to sit up and scoot her legs out of bed, a burning sizzle struck home against the line of her incision. The pain intensified when she landed her feet on the floor. Once she hobbled to a crouching stand, she gasped. “Oh. My.”
Rayleen took hold of Juliet’s shoulder in an offer of steadiness. “Yeah—the first time is the toughest. You’re doing great, but you need to straighten up nice and tall for me. Don’t be tempted to baby yourself, because you need to move around and get your body back in tune. If you’re slow and careful, you’ll be just fine.”
“Even though I feel like I’m about to come apart at the seams?”
“Yep—and I promise you won’t. You’re stitched together a lot better than you may think. C’mon and slide your feet into those slippers right there on the floor next to you. They have extra grips at the bottom, so be careful.”
Before long, despite the odds Juliet would have stacked against it, she shuffled down the main hallway with Rayleen at her side. Any kind of movement felt akin to a marathon right now, but Juliet pushed ahead. Fine beads of perspiration dotted her hairline and the back of her neck while she continued to creep along. She had just one goal in mind, and nothing would keep her from it—seeing her daughter. Juliet smiled in anticipation. She would have run to Brittany if possible.
Inside the wide open space of the NICU, at least half a dozen incubators hummed; nurses jotted notes, spoke quietly. Their movements were a ballet of sorts—confident strides from baby to baby, smiles and warm words exchanged with several visiting parents. Monitoring personnel appeared unruffled despite the myriad of crisis points that surely occupied the lives of each precious soul they monitored.
Juliet looked to the right when she heard a familiar voice—Kellen’s—whispering tenderly. Of course he would be with Brittany. Instantly her pains and tiredness decreased. She inched slowly toward them.
“Hey there, Britt.” He slipped his hand very slowly into a protective glove that stretched into the clear, sterile unit where their daughter lay. Silent and unseen for now, Juliet watched. “It’s your daddy again, sweetheart. I just got back from having some dinner. Are you hungry? Are you doing OK?”
Since Kellen blocked her view, all Juliet could see right now were fleeting images of their daughter—a flash of stretching legs, fluttery motion as Kellen’s fingertips danced against Brittany’s body. Juliet moved forward by slow degrees, not making a sound.
“Do you recognize my voice yet, little angel?” Kellen continued to touch her, and whisper. “Because I want to tell you something. Kind of our first daddy-daughter secret.” He paused there, as though listening for Brittany’s reply. Juliet lifted a hand to her clogged throat. Her lips quivered at the heartbreaking, though perfect vision of Kellen and their struggling daughter. “Some daddy’s, they want a little boy at first. They want someone to play ball with, and coach, and horse around with. Well here’s our secret, Britt. Not me. I wanted a little girl.”
His fingertips continued to move in time to the rise and fall of Brittany’s lungs, matching the tempo of her heartbeat Juliet had no doubt. “Because if you turn out to be even half as incredible as your mama, you’re going to be a blessing to everyone around you. I promise to protect you, and love you, with all that I am…and your mama and I will always do our best to show you that even though we’re not perfect, there’s nothing Jesus can’t make right, and there’s nothing He won’t do to keep you close to His heart. We learned that lesson together, Brittany, and we’ll teach you that truth, too.”
Juliet struggled for control over her emotions, brushing away tears as she stepped up to the incubator. “She’ll never know a better father than you, Kellen.”
He rose fast and offered an unsteady smile. A single glance into his red, full eyes told her he was choked up. He assisted Juliet toward the stool he had just left behind.
Kellen cleared his throat gruffly and kept an arm around her shoulders. “Come here and say hello to your daughter.”
It only took a glance, a millisecond, for Juliet’s entire universe to shift. A never-ending love settled in and took irrevocable hold of her heart. She absorbed her fill of their squirming, striving child, and she sank against the clear, tube-shaped device where Brittany lay. “Oh…oh, Kellen...she’s absolutely gorgeous. I want to touch her so badly!”
Emotion poured out in tremors and warm moisture that spilled down her face in a dance of bittersweet tears. Brittany Alexandra Rossiter was a beautiful, miraculous piece of heaven itself.
“Kellen, just look at her—she’s got your hair! It’s so thick and dark. And her mouth—her mouth is shaped just like a heart when she closes it and puckers up…do you see that?”
Juliet’s excitement built roadways over the physical strain she bore. Love cut a direct pathway, paved in gold, between her heart, Brittany’s…and Kellen’s. Despite wrinkled, reddish skin and slightly underdeveloped features, despite the scary sanitation of her present home and her tiny size, Brittany remained a vibrant baby who moved with strong motions that already demonstrated a fighter’s instincts.
Fear abated as Juliet overflowed with gratitude. She was a mother now and a renewal with Kellen left her undone, and rejoicing. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Praise God.
Juliet reached her hand carefully into the protective glove and she stroked Brittany’s warm, quivering body. Kellen drew her tight to his side.
At that point, Juliet came to a realization. Once she recovered sufficient strength, she knew exactly what needed to come next. She knew just what needed to happen in order to bring complete closure to the nightmare she and Kellen had endured.
36
“Children chase after butterflies. They dash through the wildflowers and scrub grass, right? Following the insect from bud to bud? Think about that. They run fast, grabbing for the terrified specimen. What the youngster doesn’t understand is
why
the butterfly flies away. What the child doesn’t realize is that only by going still, by opening their hand in quiet receptiveness, can they draw the butterfly to perch, and rest—and trust.”
Ten o’clock services at Trinity Christian Church wound down. Pastor Gene preached, inspired by the Spirit. His sermon held the entire congregation, Juliet especially, in his loving care.
It’s time, daughter. It’s time.
The powerful whisper resounded through her soul. For a moment, the air seized in Juliet’s chest as God spoke—loud and clear.
“To conclude today,” Pastor Gene continued, “I pose a question, and a challenge. First, the question. What are you fighting today? What’s the struggle in your life?” He walked along the front curve of the altar and held up his hands in warning. “Now don’t rush to answer those questions. Think them over carefully, and prayerfully. Take a minute to listen to God. Are you being called? Is there a prompting voice in your heart that’s telling you to move forward? If so, then bow your head, and
listen
.”
Juliet squirmed against the hard, wooden pew. From the moment Pastor Gene asked the congregation to listen to God, a convicted and prodding spirit worked through her. Above the sounds of harmonious piano music and Pastor Gene’s quiet summons came the voice that had guided and upheld her since the battle for her marriage began.
Forgive and be forgiven.
Fitting, she thought, that God’s authority would be reasserted as she acknowledged—and released—how close she had come to rebuking the covenant of her marriage. The devil had stepped into the silence of her relationship with Kellen and gladly attempted a coup.
Forgiveness needed to happen. Forgiveness presented the final link in what she knew
must
be done.
Juliet squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart hitched and stuttered. She nearly lifted from her seat, itching to obey…but…but…
Speak forgiveness aloud, Juliet, to the one who owns your heart. He whom I designed and delivered to you. Seek forgiveness in return.
Soft and gentle, loving yet powerful, the voice of her Savior refused to be denied. Juliet’s fingertips jerked unsteadily when she reached for Kellen’s hand and took hold. Automatically he began to stroke the back of her hand.
Pastor Gene continued. “Maybe it’s addictions, job struggles, health issues, relationships in chaos, letting go of pain. Whatever it is, you’re not alone. God is there. God is where you are, right here, and right now.”
I love you, precious one, with an everlasting love…and so does he.
She swallowed. She bowed her head, her hair forming a curtain between her and Kellen. Still, she felt the touch of his questioning gaze.
A long paused ensued. “Now, the challenge. If you feel led, I invite you to come forward. Members of the pastoral staff are joining me at the altar. Let us pray with you. Let us listen to you. Give yourself a chance to hand the battle over to God before you try to continue on by yourself.”
Kellen leaned close, slid back her hair with his free hand and looked into her face. “Juliet? Are you OK?”