He Knew My Voice
By Linda McIntosh
We are fed daily with a dialogue of how long is long and how short is short. I am not talking about the shortness or length of any object. I am talking about the life of a child from conception to birth. This scenario began playing in my heart when the debate came up about whether a mother had a right to decide if her child should live or die after it is born.
I would cry each time I heard that in America this could even become an upcoming act of our government system. Sadly, many people have heard this so often, they now believe this little seed in their body has to be removed. Who, When, What, Where, and How! Decisions! Decisions! I must get rid of this thing!
This is a very personal part of me that I have never shared in its entirety with anyone. The hurt to my heart was so severe, I kept it to myself for many years. Recently, I have been awakened at night with an urgency to write it; but I needed a confirmation. After attending a meeting one Friday morning, this subject came up time and time again, and I knew it was for me. I HAVE A STORY TO TELL.
Marrying at a rather young age, I became pregnant two months later. Being overly excited, I could not wait to tell the good news. The first people I told were my parents. My Dad was elated, but Mom was not very happy, probably concerned about my age and health.
After a very difficult pregnancy, being in the hospital for approximately three months, I gave birth nine months later by C-section to a young son. At that time, all anesthesia was given by Ether; and I did not completely awaken for several hours.
One of the nurses came in to check on me, and I asked to see my child. She questioned me, “Are you sure?” I replied that I really needed and wanted to. When she brought my new-born son into me, he was crying loudly and had real tears. This is very unusual for a new-born. She laid him in my arms, and I clutched him close to me and spoke to him. He stopped crying and looked intently, trying to locate me. The most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen were staring, continuing to look for me. I began to check his little toes, hands, fingers, mouth, nose, hair, and knew instantly he was mine.
I spoke to him with such softness, I could not believe he heard me. He did! He stopped crying and listened to me so closely and clutched my index finger ever so tightly. It seemed he was asking me to help him and knew that I would! I sang a song for him and the nurse began crying. Suddenly, she grabbed him and ran. So tired, I thought she had an emergency; and I dozed off to sleep. In about fifteen minutes she brought him back to me; again, he was crying.
As I reached out for him, she placed him back in my arms. I stroked his little head, and he stopped crying. Again, he searched for me intently with those beautiful blue eyes and again clutched my finger.
You cannot begin to imagine what it means to feel a little trusting hand in yours, looking for you in confidence. Absolutely, nothing draws out your love and desire to protect this precious little thing like this one gesture!
We talked in baby-talk for almost thirty minutes. Then the nurse took him back to the Nursery.
I was in a ward with three other mothers. The following morning the mother beside me asked the nurse why they had not brought the babies to us at 5:30 am; and the nurse told her that they had been so busy they could not, and they would bring the babies out later.
At 7:30 am, my Pastor’s wife and my mother came to the room and to my bed, and both were crying. Knowing deep down this was not good, I began to tell them about my beautiful son and all his wonderful features and how I had caused him to stop crying, hoping it would stop them from telling me the inevitable.
My Pastor’s wife made this statement that I have never forgotten: “Linda, sometimes we have to take the bad along with the good.” My precious son had died. Nothing else was needed! The rest of the day became black, and I remember nothing until later that night.
I was moved to a private room, because the other mothers in the room had to feed their babies, and they had cried with me.
My room was full of people trying to comfort me. I can only recall one person that came to see me and that was my Aunt Wilma who had known the hurt of losing her baby son. I know now my Aunt Mary was there and had lost her baby girl, and also my Aunt Jane who would soon know the loss of a baby son.
So why do I want and need to tell this story now? Often times over the years I have wondered what the lesson in this horrible hurt could have been.
Looking back over all the happenings of the two days, I realize that my son knew I could help the hurt go away, if only for a short while! Carrying him for nine months, talking to him for nine months, and singing to him for nine months; when they brought him to me that evening and I spoke to him,
“HE” KNEW “MY” VOICE!
Linda McIntosh, a native of Burke County has attended New Life Assembly of Rutherford College for forty years. Linda is the only woman to receive not only one but two author’s awards for a technical paper and a book written for the Distribution Transformer Department (Power Division) of General Electric. Many of her articles have appeared in local newspapers. She lives in Hildebran, NC, with her husband of fifty years, George McIntosh.
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If you are considering an abortion, please visit a local pregnancy care center in your area first. Linda would be the first to tell you that those precious moments with her baby were amazing. There are many options before you take the life of a real human being. God loves you and God loves His creation from the time of conception.