I can’t quite recall if this pivotal moment unfolded just before or immediately after the enigmatic incident involving the tree. Such significant life events often blur together in memory, their impact more enduring than their precise chronology.
An Unsettling Dream: The Roots of Intuition
I awoke abruptly, the vivid imagery of my dream still clinging to my mind. In it, I was meticulously weeding our backyard, pulling up stubborn invaders one after another. Suddenly, my gaze was drawn to a small, almost hidden tree, nestled deeply in a shaded corner beneath our deck. It was as if a powerful lens had zoomed in, focusing my entire attention on this solitary sapling. Compelled by an inexplicable urgency, I approached it. With a trusty shovel, I carefully loosened the earth around its base, then, using only my bare hands, I pulled it clean out of the soil. Roots, dirt, and all, it came away, leaving a void.
Most people, upon waking from such a random dream, might simply roll over, perhaps briefly recounting the odd tale to a half-listening spouse who would likely shrug it off. But this dream was different. It resonated deep within me, an insistent echo I couldn’t ignore. The image of that tree, uprooted and removed, was stubbornly lodged in my thoughts. I turned to Cade, my voice firm with an unshakeable conviction, “That tree in our yard? It’s gotta go.”
The Unseen Burden: A Pre-Labor Instinct
Cade, ever supportive, joined me as we began the laborious task of digging around the actual Japanese maple in our yard. Even though it was a relatively small tree, the effort was significant. I tried to pace myself, to take it easy, but my body was already protesting. The early stages of pregnancy had enveloped me in a fog of nausea, a constant queasy greenness, persistent body aches, and an overwhelming, soul-deep exhaustion. Yet, despite these profound physical challenges, I was determined, diligent in my efforts. Cade, sensing my unusual intensity, paused, looking at me with concern, “Are you really sure you want this out?”
“Absolutely,” I replied without hesitation. The feeling was undeniable.
“You don’t like it?” he probed, trying to understand the sudden fixation.
“It’s not that I dislike it,” I explained, my voice tinged with a strange urgency, “I just… I can’t get the idea of pulling it out of my head. It feels like something I *have* to do.”
So, together, we did it. The process was surprisingly difficult, given the Japanese maple’s small stature. Its roots were more entrenched than we anticipated, resisting our efforts.
The Silence Before the Storm: An Unforeseen Crisis
In the aftermath, as the tree lay removed and the patch of earth bare, I felt nothing outwardly. No physical pain worsened, no surge of nausea, no immediate sense that anything was amiss. Yet, unbeknownst to us then, two critical things had already been irrevocably altered. We wouldn’t fully comprehend the gravity of that morning until November 4th, 2015.
When we arrived at the hospital, the urgency of our situation was stark. We recounted the events to the medical staff, my voice trembling with a deep-seated fear for our baby. He wasn’t moving, and I had experienced a profound, terrifying sensation of detachment, followed by a torrent of blood that defied description. This was no typical “bloody show” or the gentle onset of labor. This was an experience far more traumatic, a volume of blood that eclipsed anything I had known from previous childbirths. It felt as though the very presence of our baby had been replaced by a distressing emptiness, a belly suddenly filled with blood. It’s a detail I share with some hesitation, but it’s crucial to understanding the sheer terror and confusion of that moment. Believe me, I’m sparing you the full, unvarnished details of what we witnessed, which were far more graphic.
Dr. Cloward, the physician on call, attended to us. While Dr. Haskett had always been our primary doctor, Dr. Cloward proved to be an exceptional presence: calming, kind, and remarkably attentive. Despite the contractions, which were now undeniable, we were cautiously reassured. The team suggested there was a possibility I could hold out for a few more weeks. They would monitor me for several hours, hoping to stabilize the situation. I remember feeling a disconnect, a sense that they didn’t fully grasp the horrifying reality of what Cade and I had already seen. Still, we waited. Exhausted by the day’s events and the emotional toll, Cade eventually drifted off to sleep beside me.
Cade’s Unwavering Presence and My Battle with Control
Cade is truly one of those rare individuals you pray to have by your side during life’s most challenging moments, especially something as intense as childbirth or a medical crisis. His demeanor is unfailingly calm, his support unwavering, his helpfulness boundless, and his encouragement a constant source of strength. Nothing seems to faze him; he faces adversity with a steady resolve that makes you believe you, too, can overcome anything. And in that moment, lying in a hospital bed, facing the terrifying prospect of premature labor, I desperately needed that unwavering strength.
This turn of events was completely outside my meticulously planned universe. My baby wasn’t supposed to arrive early. I am, by nature, a planner and an organizer. I thrive on preparedness, on having everything in its proper place, ensuring that I’m always ready for whatever comes my way. Such an approach usually means nothing shakes me. But here I was, vulnerable and uncertain, my plans shattered.
As I lay there, lost in thought and fear, Cade had already called our friend Adam, who was staying at our house to look after things while we were at the hospital. My mom, living in Idaho, was poised to make the long drive to Utah the next day if the worst should happen. But surely, it wouldn’t, right? I tried to convince myself.
Sleep remained elusive for me. Though the contractions had begun to slow, my mind raced relentlessly. A profound internal conflict consumed me: Was this a failure of faith and hope? Why couldn’t I simply believe that everything would stop, that I wouldn’t have him yet? Or, perhaps, was I experiencing a different kind of reassurance, a quiet knowing that he *would* arrive, and somehow, despite everything, all would ultimately be well? In moments of such intense fear and crisis, discerning the true nature of these feelings feels impossible.
A Prayer for Peace: Embracing the Unforeseen
I decided to turn to a practice that had brought me solace during a previous, similarly challenging pregnancy. I haven’t yet shared the story of that blessing, the one for healing that was never fully given; perhaps that’s a story for another time. For now, my focus was on quieting my racing heart. I prayed to be still, to feel a profound sense of calm, and to truly listen to whatever message the universe held for me.
My prayer was simple, yet deeply profound: “If this is to be, grant me the peace to embrace it.” Over and over, I offered that prayer, surrendering my expectations and fears. And then, just two hours later, the contractions hit again, hard and undeniable. There was no more waiting, only the imminent reality of delivery. A short hour or so after that, our tiny son arrived.
The Miraculous Arrival: A Soul’s Purpose Revealed
He weighed just four pounds and measured seventeen inches, yet he was the most alert baby I had ever encountered. From the moment he entered the world, it was clear: he knew. He was present, aware, and seemingly conscious of the exact place he had chosen to come to. And, pardon the tears you cannot see, perhaps he even chose us, chose me to be his mother in this intricate journey of life.
This was the first time I was able to have a baby placed directly on my chest immediately after delivery. While the photograph isn’t from that precise moment, it perfectly captures how he preferred to be throughout our entire stay in the NICU: snuggled close, craving skin-to-skin contact. He knew his mother. Isn’t that truly incredible? That initial moment when they laid him on me felt utterly surreal. The peace that enveloped me, the profound warmth burning in my chest, the overwhelming rush of love—my goodness, it was an experience beyond description, and completely unexpected given the circumstances.
I had no idea that having a baby a month early would mean my delivery room would be packed to its absolute brim. Extra nurses, the primary doctor, Cade, a pediatrician, respiratory specialists—all of them watched me deliver, their faces etched with the anticipation that this tiny baby might face significant problems, that he might arrive fighting fiercely for his very survival. The atmosphere was charged with a surreal mix of tension and readiness.
Did you happen to watch the video? In that extraordinary moment, he let out a perfect, tiny cry, and then immediately quieted. His gaze, utterly still, locked onto mine as they gently handed him to me. We simply stared at each other. I understand the scientific facts: newborns can’t see perfectly like adults. So, how this happened, I cannot rationally explain. Yet, everyone in that crowded room fell silent, captivated. Then, slowly, hushed comments began to emerge, acknowledging the profound connection they were witnessing, a feeling that permeated us all.
Friends, I tell you, that room buzzed with an incredible warmth and an ethereal energy that felt entirely otherworldly, yet was so tangibly present. He knew exactly where he was, and precisely who held him. The murmuring grew, “My goodness, I’ve never seen a baby, let alone a preemie, look at someone like that. It’s as if he truly sees you, truly knows you. It’s like he wishes he could open his mouth and share a vital message.”
And we, in that sacred space, felt it too. It was an undeniable truth.
Beyond the Veil: Children of Heavenly Parents
Children are not merely born onto this earth; they come from a celestial realm, a place where they have lived and loved alongside Heavenly Parents. They arrive with a sacred purpose, a mission, a unique ministry to fulfill in this mortal journey. Looking at him, as he gazed back at me, I felt a power I simply could not deny. It affirmed a fundamental truth: each of us possesses an inherent purpose. Each of us is known, deeply loved, and significant. I don’t pretend to understand why life often feels so challenging, why people experience such profound hurt and loss, why plans unravel, and why existence can be so incredibly difficult. But I do know this: there is a divine being who knows our name, who stands with us through every trial, gently urging us to turn back to Him, reminding us of our eternal heritage.
And then, as quickly as he had arrived and captivated us, he was gone, whisked away by the medical team for necessary testing. The extraordinary quiet of our shared gaze was replaced by the urgent practicalities of his premature arrival, but the feeling of profound connection remained, a silent promise etched into my soul.