Holding Cole
Posted by letterstopriests | Filed under Uncategorized
That Saturday morning before Easter everything was humming along as it normally does when we are leaving to go out of town. A flurry of showers, packing and rounding up my 2 ½ year old. I suddenly came to the realization that something was wrong, my water had broken.
Barely 29 weeks pregnant with my second child, my membranes had ruptured and I was soon on my way to the hospital. For days I laid in a bed 
at St. Mary’s Hospital, hoping to delay my baby’s birth as long as possible. The doctors told me that every day I could put off delivering was crucial to my baby’s development.
Cole James was born 10 days later, 3lbs 9 oz and 30 weeks old. We were allowed to hold Cole for 30 brief seconds before he was taken from our arms and whisked away to the NICU for evaluation. Two hours later when we saw him he was on a ventilator and we were unable to hold him, being told that even touching him could cause him distress and make his breathing more difficult. It was hard to believe he was the baby I had carried for so many months. He seemed so distant on the Plexiglas “bed” hooked up to so many monitors and IVs they were difficult to count. My husband and I decided to have Cole baptized as soon as possible, a way to bring some hope and faith to this little being who was out of necessity being denied so many things that could comfort him and make him more a part of our world.
The NICU can be a very lonely place, even though you are surrounded by doctors and nurses offering their help and care. I was often seated a few feet away from another mother, also grieving over the difficult way her child had come into the world. No words would pass between us, they would be too painful to speak. I noticed that parents of the other babies would avoid eye contact, the idea of social niceties seeming frivolous under such dire circumstances. Often, parents were wondering whether their babies were going to make it, whether they would ever be able to hold them. My husband and I were blessed to know within a few hours of Cole’s birth that he would survive and probably thrive, eventually. Many parents in the NICU were not as lucky as we were.
My son’s baptism was one of the few pleasant memories that I have of the first six weeks of his life. The priest who performed the baptism, Father Ayub, was a kind and gentle man who stood with us at Cole’s bedside and baptized him that day, when he was 36 hours old.
Father Ayub was a Catholic priest from Pakistan. That day he said to us, “Someday, you will have to tell your son he was baptized by a priest all the way from Pakistan”. At the time I thought, what a neat thing to tell my son when he is older. It is true that the majority of the priests we knew were of the German or Irish variety. Who would’ve thought that in a few months the country of Pakistan and the entire Middle East would take on such a new significance to the world. As we walked out if the NICU that day many mothers and fathers were smiling at us, having overheard the ceremony we had just held at Cole’s bedside. I am still struck by the difference our demonstration of our faith made in the atmosphere in the NICU, a warmth in that room that I felt for the only time during our experience there.
We finally were able to hold Cole when he was five days old. It was a moment I will never forget, although I was only able to hold him for a few minutes. With my first child I took that privilege for granted, holding her was just something I did as a mother, among the other tasks of mothering. I will never again take being able to hold one of my children, or any of my loved ones, for granted.
On September 11th as I watched to events in New York, and Washington D.C. unfold, I sat on the living room floor holding my children. I gradually became aware that there were many people who were never going to have the chance to hold their children again. Since that terrible day I have read the stories of newborn babies and other children that would never be held by their fathers and mothers, brave people who lost their lives trying to save the lives of others. I constantly realize how lucky we are to be able to hold Cole, now nearly 15 pounds and smiling and laughing all the time. The public demonstrations of faith and patriotism have been so powerful to watch and so uplifting at during a time when there is so much to feel sad or frightened about.
I look forward to telling Cole the story of Father Ayub, this man of faith who is one of many people from a part of the world whom we need to pray for. I am sure these are also very difficult times for people of Pakistan and other places in the Middle East, where many innocent people are suffering from the wrath of a few fanatics who have gained too much power through their terrorism. We need to encourage and reach out to Middle Eastern people in our communities, regardless of specific denomination, and let them know that we are praying for them too. And we need to remember that there are mothers in the Middle East that are holding their children and loved ones a little closer, just as we are doing here.
by Laurel Grimes Horman
