Miss You, Miss the Baby, Miss Texas!

Miss You, Miss the Baby, Miss Texas!

A year ago Karla Hale asked me to speak at the RE Women’s retreat about broken dreams. She had no way of knowing that the broken dream closest to my heart at the time was that we were leaving our friends and family in Texas and moving to Florida.

That seems a little petty now, as many of you are dealing with real life and death issues. But I couldn’t imagine that not being near our kids and future grandkids was anything in God’s plan for us. I had been at the hospital when all three of the Stevens’ babies were born. What would happen if I missed being there when Matt and Scott became dads?

Matt & Kyla were expecting their first baby January 2nd. We made airline reservations for Christmas afternoon, and planned to stay with one of you(!)until baby Mark was born. When Matt called to say the doctor wanted to induce on the 31st, we were relieved that we wouldn’t have to worry about missing the birth.
On Saturday morning, December 22nd around 5:00 Texas time, Matt called to say that they had been at the hospital since 4:00 and the doctor said they were staying. In my bravest voice, I said, “Matt, that’s great!”

“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll be okay.”

Knowing our flight was still 3 days away and the drive was 24 hours at best, we sent our love and told them we’d see them Christmas afternoon. There were surely no flights available the Saturday before Christmas. I knew it was tearing Drew up, too, so I wasn’t about to ask him to try to get another flight. However, the story of the crazy astronaut diaper lady flashed across my mind, and I had no problem running to the store for a box of Depends on our way out of town.

Drew sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Let’s pray.” We prayed for them and gave Him our travel plans. Then Drew said, “I’m calling American Airlines.” Within a few minutes I heard him say, “1:00 today?!” He had told the AA rep that our daughter-in-law had gone into labor early, and she informed him that he had said the magic words which qualified us for medical emergency tickets.

Excitement mixed with panic ensued as we began to throw things into suitcases. As far as I was concerned, all I needed was my camera and a photo ID. I was calculating centimeters and averages of first baby labor hours as I was shoving my third suitcase in the trunk, when Drew ran out to the driveway with his cell phone and said, “6 lbs, 2 oz? Congratulations, son! Here’s Mom!”

It happened. The moment I thought I wouldn’t survive was playing out before me and all I could think of was, “Is he okay?”

“He’s more than okay, Mom...he’s perfect! And he can’t wait to meet his Grams and Papa this afternoon.”

I paused to see if the world was still turning, and it was. In a way, it was a little easier getting on the plane and not worrying if we would make it to the hospital in time. The baby was here. They were okay. We had tickets. We were okay.

The 2 ½ hour flight also gave me time to get a grip and realize that this was not all about me. When I start to whine about having to be a long distance grandmother, Carla Holland comes to mind. She wins. Every time. She’s my hero.

God has been so sweet to give me friends at this church who ask to see baby pictures. Again. Little friends at church who call me Miss. Texas. (Long story...Pageant officials across the state are horrified!) Girlfriends who pray with me and encourage me to take care of myself spiritually and physically. And He’s given me one especially special friend who sits on the 2nd row at church with a camera in her purse and loves on someone else’s kids. I celebrate that!

I am so thankful. Right now that’s about all my heart can feel. I know the days will come when it will feel like that baby is as far away as Africa, but for now, it’s all good. I think he’ll call me Grams.

Or, Miss Texas!