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A year and a half later we have a healthy little man …. a repost but a reason to exhale, sit back and be in wonder.


The throb of the blades rhythmically cut through the air. As the rotor gained momentum, the noise swelled making communication nearly impossible. This lack only isolated her further and she felt like a bystander in a scene from a movie. The big yellow Westpac helicopter now gained height, and the hospital grounds melted away along with all that was familiar. Her safe surroundings, her town, looked different from the air at night ablaze with lights in neat corridors. Events were surreal, control was beyond her and nothing seemed comfortable or safe. Her contribution to this emergency medical retrieval seemed negligible as she was at the end of herself to sustain the life of her twelve week old boy. She wondered how this would end and if she would have the energy to see this through?

So much had been given and endured already for his life to be; sickness, planning, longing, money, time, dreams, hopes. So much selfless sacrifice passionately offered. But all that wasn’t enough to guarantee his survival. Neither was any amount of status, bribery or good works. His life was totally beyond all guarantees as is ours. Yet immense resource was lavished and every attempt made to sustain the life of Kyler Jack.

Attempts to allow him to live and enjoy the depth of his mother’s adoration, to let him suckle and nuzzle and feel totally safe. As his consciousness grew, his world would include his siblings, learning to jostle and find place in his family where he adapts to sharing his parents affection. Learn to give in love yet still love when not given. Discover the substance in relationships and the depth in forgiveness as wounds are dealt. Find sweetness in an emerging longing for shared enjoyment of another person. Let him discover the treasures and truths in life that really give it genuine substance. And to climax in full circle as longing and hope would be sown and unconditional love allows new life to birth through his own children.

Would his life be fully lived as he now struggled to breath on his own? Monitors taped to his body delivered numbers which gave the young doctor no reason for concern as oxygen tubes kept levels at an acceptable saturation. She smiled in understanding as the medic offered her a thumbs up to put her mind at ease, to reveal stability in her baby’s condition, sign language the only communication possible over the din of the chopper. Grateful, she wondered how these front line medics dealt with such a critical responsibility, of being the hope of so many for their children. Why this young man would even want to labour through situations that possibly produce the absolute worse of any circumstance; lost life. Does he labour because the possibility of being able to interrupt the demise of health is worth the risk of his own distress?

Why do we all have such a solid conviction to pour so much of ourselves into each other? Sure some would act from motives that are self serving, others lives being used to meet their own perceived needs but most intuitively recognise a truth far more profound. What even causes us to have babies when there is so much of ourselves to deny, so much of ourselves required. Our children’s lives are open cisterns for us to pour in everything we are. Yet; we give knowing that their lives are their own and we give unconditionally, with no strings attached, freely allowing them to choose their response to us. To choose the degree of which they love and enjoy in return. What a risk! What a gamble! Or is it?

Hovering over Randwick Children’s Hospital, it was impossible to not be in awe of the colossal red sun rising and declaring that a new day had begun. A quick descent, an envelopment of buildings around the craft and a converging of medical staff stole her oasis of quiet and deep sense of perspective. She struggled with the pace to stay close to the medical entourage through the corridors and tunnels of the Intensive Care Unit, then watched as a CPAP machine took the strain from his breathing. In the blur, she stepped back and saw a bigger picture as bed after bed was filled with children whose outcomes were uncertain and whose parents fed on hope and prayer to sustain them for the tough road they would need to walk.

It was now definite that regardless of the outcome, she would fight through her fatigue, emotions and fears, digging into the very depth of who she was, as a child herself yet an over comer, to give every opportunity of life. However this finished, it would be done with grace and gratitude. Life for her was long enough lived to know that life and relationships was God’s opus. There held the greatest depth and satisfaction. The delight to be enjoyed and to enjoy. Deep freedom was found in not placing expectations but in loving with expectancy, in not demanding responsibility but anticipating response from intimacy offered. To stand solidly and humbly offering everything she was even through her weakness and embrace response the way others choose to give. This was offered to her nine other children and no less would be offered to her baby.

Resolved to love through the pain, she journeyed the medical protocols with tenacity. But finally, the day came where monitors were turned off. Beds were stripped and personal effects placed around the unit for emotional support collected. Good byes were said to nurses who were more than staff but people who were now written in her life’s story. Her journey home wasn’t as dramatic. There was no urgency, no rush. But there was a profound air of fullness as she didn’t travel alone. Her son was also able to return to their corner in the world and discover for himself the richness found in life and unconditional love.