And his name is Isaac Matthew

Eight hours after the baby's birth a sweet nurse came down and began moving me to a wheelchair. I asked what she was doing and she said she was going to get me to my baby if it was the last thing she did. I politely refused. I told her I was okay where I was and that I was looking forward to a night of rest. She nodded and continued to move me to the chair anyway. She asked all visitors including my husband to leave the room for a minute. She looked me in the eye and she said "This little boy is amazing and you have just GOT to see him. We are going to the NICU." And that was that.



We were off. She slowly and carefully wheeled me down to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She helped me scrub my hands and she brought Howard along as well. She wheeled me to the corner of this incredibly intimidating room, filled with beeps and whirring sounds. It had a distinct smell. One I will never forget. In the corner of the room was a little isollette. She wheeled me over and called for a NICU nurse to get my son for me. I again told her it was okay. I would be fine with just a peek. (I think I was trying to protect myself from the inevitable. I was so afraid of loving him the way I love Luke. Little did I know, I wasn't fooling anyone. I was already head over heels!) The NICU nurse reached in and carefully pulled our son from the little bed. She placed him in my arms and the dam broke. Despite the intense pain it caused I cried. I cried and cried. I wept. Howard wept. The nurses wept. One nurse hugged me as I held our son and told me to go ahead and cry.



This little boy was just shy of 5 pounds weighing in at 4 lb 14 oz. He was 16 inches long and as perfect as I could ever imagine. Luke was a bald baby so I was completely struck by this child's THICK head of deep brown fur! It was so soft to the touch. I held him and rocked with him and talked to him, pleading for him to hang on. I was astounded that something could be so terribly wrong with him when he looked SO very perfect. After about an hour and a half the nurse said she needed to get me back to rest for a bit but that she would bring me down as often as I wanted after resting a bit. I handed our son back to the nurse. She asked if he had a name. He didn't. Howard and I don't roll like that. We have to meet a little person before sticking them with a name for life. We would need to ponder this one.



We went back to the hospital room said goodbye to our parents and settled in. Howard cozied up in the recliner chair with his Bible and I dozed off and on. Each time I woke I looked over and Howard was voraciously reading that Bible and writing furiously. I had no idea what he was up to, but I was too tired to inquire.



The next morning at about 5 am I woke up and just had this unbearable urge to hold my son. I used my superhuman strength and got MYSELF out of bed and walked to the NICU. Not knowing this was something nurses may frown upon. I wanted to see my boy and so I went. The physical pain dulled in comparison to the emotional agony I was enduring.

I sat in a rocking chair and held my boy. I was so stunned by his immense beauty. I had never seen a baby more beautiful in my life, there was just something about him that was completely captivating. I rocked and sang until about 7 am when my nurse burst in somewhat worried when she had gone to my room and I was not there. She understood. Howard followed close behind. The nurse asked if he had a name yet. Howard was quick to reply with "Isaac". He looked at me for approval, I nodded and added Isaac Matthew. Isaac because Howard had been up the whole night reading the story of Abraham and Matthew because it was the name I had picked out in my head. It's meaning is Gift from God. That he was...