The comfort, peace from a simple act of kindness- My favorite Christmas; Healthy wife and new baby girl

Written by Dan Moran. Posted in Community News & People in the News

Published on December 19, 2018 with No Comments

It was December 13, 1988.  My wife and I were expecting a baby and the pregnancy was near the end.  We were tired and nervous and more than a little scared that day.  A couple of years before we had lost our first child, and until we could hold this new blessing, we were afraid.

I was such a mess as we rushed to the hospital that night when Teri felt pain that culminated with a miscarriage.  The nurse took her through a door as I stood at the receptionist’s desk doing paperwork, mad because our doctor was not available.

I remember that I was wearing sweat pants and the string that was holding them up broke.  As I was bemoaning the fact that our doctor was not reachable, I grabbed a stapler from the desk and stapled my pants together to keep them from falling down. What a sight for anyone coming in and seeing this semi-raving idiot stapling his pants.  The next thing I knew we were going home, no longer pregnant. There was absolute silence in the car as we were both lost in our thoughts.  I am sure that we were both in a state of shock.  All the hopes and dreams that we planned for that baby…

It is not possible for me to get into my wife’s head or body to know what she was going through that day as we went to the hospital with our second baby.  We were both looking forward to having an addition to the family.  There were some rough spells during the previous nine months, but God brought us to that day according to His plan and His timing. But He never promised that life would be easy and the day was long and emotional on so many levels, and anything but easy.

As Teri lie in the hospital bed, waiting for the arrival of our baby, I fanned her with magazines.  The TV was playing and I watched but remember nothing.  The fanning went on for hours; literally. From one hand to the other…both hands at the same time…back to the left then the right.  But I had to do something and fanning seemed to be my thing for most of the day.

Nurses brought in pillows and tucked Teri in and I thought that was a nice gesture.  I later discovered it was in case she had seizures.  Within minutes Teri was whisked away.  I was taken to a side room and our doctor started explaining things that I did not have any understanding of, concluding with “the baby might die and Teri might die, so please sign here so I can go help your wife and baby!”

I signed.  He ran off and left me alone.  I cannot come close to describing how much pain swept over every part of me. Looking back, I believe the pain was not in my body but in my soul.  I was dazed. I left the room and walked out into the hall.  I passed the nurses’ station that was decorated for the holidays.  A small Christmas tree was on their counter, and colored lights blinked as if to mock my breaking heart…live, die, live, die they seemed to be saying.  I got to the end of one hall and headed down another.  People passed me by and I just kept walking until I came to a small sign hanging off the wall.

CHAPEL.  I was lost. My spirit was nearly broken by the news thrust upon me just minutes before.  I went in and knelt at the altar.  I prayed like I never prayed before.  My body shuddered as I sobbed, tears drenching my cheeks as I begged like I never thought a person could beg.  “Please, God!  Not again. And not my wife and my baby.”  I did not know if the child was a boy or a girl, but I knew that He knew, and I begged for their lives.

After a bit, I sat back on a pew with my head in my hands.  I could not control the sobbing.  Quietly and without a word, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I looked up and there stood a grandmotherly figure.  She sat beside me and put her arms around me and held me. She was Hispanic and spoke almost no English, but the comfort that penetrated my being from her simple act of being there gave me a certain degree of peace.  She said something in Spanish that I could not understand but it included Bueno and Jesus, so I guess she was offering her love as she whispered “confianza en Jesus” which I have since discovered to be “trust in Jesus.”

I left the chapel and stood at a quadrangle window.  Looking across the small courtyard, I saw our doctor walking the hall.  His head was down, his hands were behind his back, and he kept shaking his head back and forth as though he were in despair himself. It could only mean one thing, at least in my mind.  When he reached the corner and turned to head in my direction, I was frozen in place. My heart was pounding and I am sure my eyes looked like huge, glassy marbles.  He almost walked into me as I could see that his mind was not on where his feet were taking him.

He looked up, almost startled, and he smiled the biggest smile that I ever encountered as he declared, “Mr. Moran, your wife and baby girl are going to be fine.”  He extended his hand for a congratulatory handshake, patted my shoulder, and walked on as he said that they would be back in her room in a little while.

My little Hispanic friend stood at the chapel door as I ran in the direction that the doc had just come from.  I stopped in my tracks, turned, ran back to her and gave her what might have been the biggest hug she ever got in her entire life, and then I ran to the room to see Teri.

When I saw my wife, exhausted from many hours of labor followed by an emergency C-section, I felt nothing but love emanating from my entire being.  And one of the biggest gifts that I had ever been given for Christmas was mine to take home and to love.  That was nearly 30 years ago this December, and it was the best Christmas that I ever had. How can you top God?  How can you shop for anything nicer than the gift of a healthy little girl?  And to go home on a snowy Indiana day to be greeted by loving and proud grandparents…and helping my wife, my lovely and loving and sweet wife…out of the car and up the walk as we carried our baby…our little Megan…it truly does not get better than that.

So, Christmas of 1988 was my best Christmas ever.  I had the loves of my life (with another girl child born just a couple years later, our Colleen Jelly Bean), a humble home, a job that met our needs, and our health after such a scare.  How could there be any better holiday than that holy day when Jesus looked down on the Morans with His tidings of blessings and joy.  It is times like that from which Christmas carols are born.  I thanked Him then, and I have thanked Him every day since for the joy that he gifted Teri and me on that Dec. 13…my lucky 13!

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