Surprised By A Baby
A few weeks ago, I spent several hours in a hot, cramped waiting room with about 20 other friends and family, eagerly anticipating the birth announcement of my best friend Caitlin’s first child with her husband, Mike.
A scene like this is always exciting, but not knowing the gender of the baby allows for that old-school surprise factor, that fun movie-like moment when the dad runs out to report: “IT’S A…!”
I don’t want to sound like we would have been disappointed if the next word was “BOY!” But secretly, we all hoped it would be a girl. Because we were all thinking of one particular girl whom we had known and loved earlier in life.
Caitlin and her best friend Ashley grew up practically attached. They shared friends, family vacations, proms, graduations, and eventually a college dorm room. They had planned to share much more--to be Special Education teachers together, to be the maids of honor in each other’s weddings. But that course of life all changed when Ashley, at age 20, was killed in a car accident along with her brother, Billy, leaving behind friends and family, and especially their parents, with an unimaginable void.
Immediately Caitlin vowed: “One day I will name my daughter Ashley.”
Her older brother Brian got married first. And they named their first son William.
Years later, it would be Caitlin's turn. But Caitlin and Mike faced discouragement for nine months before finally becoming pregnant. And as if this struggle was a foretaste of the actual birth, Caitlin bore through almost 24 hours of labor when the time came. In fact, some of us had gone home and come back to the hospital a few times before the doctor finally resorted to a C-section.
“They’re starting,” texts Mike from the operating room. We can barely contain ourselves in the seats.
Then, after what seems like forever, another text: “I’m coming out.” We all line up with our camera phones. And just to keep the suspense going, Mike bursts through the doors holding two hats: one pink and one blue.
“Which one do you think it is?” he smirks.
And before anyone can even answer--as if he just can’t wait anymore-- he drops the blue hat and puts on the pink.
“IT'S A GIRL!”
Those words! Those words sent us all jumping up and down, screaming like hyenas. Though any announcement would have brought joy, you could not deny that there was a special kind of elation at the unveiling of a new Ashley. And jumping and squealing right in the midst of us, was Ashley’s mom, Debbie.
“She came back to us” I said to her as we embraced.
“Yes, she did.” cried Debbie.
Stories like this feel written. In the least, they are invitations for us to find some meaning where all meaning had seemed lost.
A new Ashley - what does this mean? It means that those of us who loved her get to call someone by that name again. It means Caitlin gets to share her life with a beloved “Ashley.” None of this may be how we planned or wanted it, but, it sure is something special nonetheless.
I am not so idealistic to think that the arrival of a “new Ashley” simply erases the grief of the one lost, or that it sufficiently replaces the presence she had in our lives. I know it doesn’t. When Debbie holds that baby, gazing into her eyes, she will not have her daughter back; we will not have figured out how to turn back time. In fact, maybe in some moments, the reminder of loss might be too much. Grief is the other side of love. Yet what this baby-- and all new life--do for us, is draw new love out of our hearts. Just try to stop it!
The esteemed writer CS Lewis--from whom I have borrowed the theme “Surprised by Joy”-- always insisted that “Death--resurrection is the true rhythm [of life.]” He is certainly not the only one to make this observation, as people have been expressing it in different ways since they have pondered the patterns of the Earth. Consider this ancient Hebrew text, wisdom that is thousands of years old, yet simple and familiar:
There is a season for everything...
a time to be born and a time to die...
a time to weep and a time to laugh...
a time to mourn and a time to dance..
Yet Lewis also warned of the danger of “trying to preserve the past in a way in which it can’t be preserved.” What he means, I think, is that whether it is a season, a relationship, a love, or a life, these losses are inevitable. But like the persistent Earth after every Winter, we must resolve to steadily spin--ever so slowly if need be-- towards the rebirths that come with Spring. Because despite all the pain of life, from time to time we may still find ourselves Surprised By Joy.
