All that is quiet

The VIT and I are watching a wonderful series on Netflix called "God" with Morgan Freeman. It's a wonderful and enlightening series if you feel so inclined. In one of the early episodes Mr. Freeman discusses our concept of near-death and "seeing God." This episode spoke to me.

While bringing PKIT 5.0 earthside you all know that there were some scary scary moments where we weren't entirely sure how things were going to play out. We weren't sure if he or I would be making it out of that OR alive. Plot twist, I'm still alive, so is he, we are awesome. However as part of therapy and in an effort to live into all that came about as a result of his birth, I have been carefully going over the experience and trying to ensure all of my experience is felt, honored, and properly cataloged in my mind and on paper.

During the most tumultuous 14 minutes of my life I experienced a level of peace to which cannot be properly explained. This type of peace, I've heard it explained before, in terms of meditation but had never felt before. Time was moving in slow motion but also at a rapid pace. Each piece of the pictures that were flashing through my mind were also being burned into my memory. I remember the smells and the feel of the sheet on the gurney, and the pattern of the surgical cap of the 2nd anesthesiologist they called in because one wasn't enough. I remember the face of PKIT was they literally pulled him out of my body. The way the air felt on my internal organs (no pain I promise but definitely felt the air). The way my beloved OB nurse kept pressing my belly (now I know to keep what little blood pressure I had up) and the way she requested I look her straight in the eyes and breath. The way the nurse in OR asked if I could possibly get up off the L&D gurney and hop over on to the surgical table (yes I did, with good body mechanics, not sure how as I had a heavy epidural already). I remember how quiet everyone was and worked. I mostly remember how quiet I was but how loud my mind was. I remember how loud it got once the PKIT was actually out. Looking up at him hovering over me and silently weeping and praying outloud, speaking his name, and blessing him as only a mother can. Immediately following I wiped my eyes and cracked a joke. At that moment the peace (the one we talk about in church that passes all understanding) broke.

I've often wondered if what I felt and saw and was during that time was true and real or if it was all some sort of unconscious but very realistic dream? From a physiological standpoint, I should not have even been conscious enough to recall any of this let alone in the detail I am sure I remember.  I'm not sure I'll ever really know but I do know, God, they were there. I truly hope there will be other times when I feel that peace. I also hope that I am not on the brink of death to feel it. Much like people strive to feel that high, I strive to feel that peace. Perhaps I'll get there. Until then, I'll find a piece of that peace in all that is quiet.