Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Maybe Next Year

I'm a huge Mets fan and as a result, so is Gideon. If only Gideon knew what I know now -- it is tough to be a fan of the Mets and Jets. He really doesn't have a choice though.

This is what proud daddies do; they rear their children to love the sports teams they grew up loving. My brother, who is a Yankees and Giants fan, did it with my nephews. The sports rivalry my brother and I must live on through our children, and our children's children. In fact, Gideon already has more Mets gear than I do, thanks in large part to my side of the family.

Now that the NLCS is 3 - 2 in favor of the Cardinals, I fear that I may have to taste end of baseball season disappointment once again and say the inevitable phrase of hopeful sports fans worldwide; "maybe next year." Hopefully, they'll win so that Gideon won't have to savor the awful taste so early in his life. We'll see. I'm still hopeful that the Mets can pull off a miracle and still win this year.

Speaking of miracles, Gideon beat the odds against him during labor. Throughout the entire morning of October 11th, Alexa's contractions were consistent -- about a minute long and a minute apart (I think - I was so busy coaching her to push and breathe that taking time between contractions was the least of my worries).

When the doctor arrived to deliver, we learned that she wasn't pushing correctly. A nurse mentioned that she was pushing with her face. Lamaze covers breathing techniques, but for obvious reasons, not pushing techniques. So any pushing done during labor is self-taught.

On about 6 occasions, Alexa pushed, but every time she pushed, Gideon would sneak out then go back in. The doctor and nurses showed very visible signs of concern -- this was not good news for Gideon. I turned to Alexa. She looked defeated and tired as if she couldn't push any more. After a nurse told her to give one long push on her next contraction, we waited.

1 minute past. No contraction.

3 minutes past. No contraction.

5 minutes past. No contraction.

While only a few minutes, it felt like an eternity. At this point, the visible signs of concern by the doctor became outward, physical expressions of distress as he nodded his head as if saying "No." At this time, I was reminded that a successful delivery was not completely in the hands of our wonderful doctor. Nor was it in the excellent care Alexa's nurses provided for her.

So I decided to ask for divine intervention - I put my head down and prayed silently while stroking my fingers through Alexa's hair. I noticed that Andrea walked away. Later I learned that she also was in prayer at the moment.

Within seconds, Alexa cries out, "Another one is coming." She was feeling a contraction. She took a deep breath. Then with one final push, much longer than any other one, Gideon comes out. Alexa told us afterward that she also prayed for strength because she honestly felt that she could push no more.

Now that Gideon is home with us, I am reminded of the miracle that occurred in that hospital room. Sure, the Red Sea was not parted on that day, nor were thousands of people fed with just a few loaves of bread, but Gideon, my son, was born.

This was a miracle God gave me. He filled a need that I desperately needed at that time. I believed and He heard my prayer.

Prayer is a funny thing. It's something most people decide to do only when times are tough or when in a situation that is out of their hands. At that moment in time, there was nothing more that I wanted than for Gideon to be born and healthy. If necessary, I would have given all of my possessions to make it happen. Even my life. Nothing else mattered.

Now that the Mets need some miraculous things to happen in order to win, like in 1969, I guess I can pray that God makes it so. I can ask God to make these things to come to fruition - good pitching, timely hitting and errorless baseball.

But whether the Mets win or lose, I can go on living knowing that God already answered a true need in my life. I want the Mets to win; I don't need them to win. So I won't pray for them to win. If they win, great! If they don't, then Gideon and I will have to wait till next year.


Jenn said...

These stories are so beautiful! I am sitting here with tears rolling down my face! I am glad that everything worked out so well. Gideon is adorable and I think he looks a bit like Alex. I can not wait to meet him in early December.

Love Jenn & Jon

Anonymous said...

Sweet rendition, Alex... thanks for sharing the story!