As the color in his hands slowly faded, she tearfully sat beside him, dreading the fulfillment of their wedding vows- “..til death do us part.” Their shared, lifelong faith gave her confidence that he would leave behind his pain and struggles, but this knowledge did little to stop the flow of tears from her sorrow-filled eyes.
I had been called to the room by the nursing staff. As the on-call physician in a rural hospital, I was covering all departments- the emergency room, obstetrics and inpatient units. I introduced myself to the wife and assured her that he was not having any pain. I confirmed her that her decision to provide comfort care measures had been a choice of love.
Our conversation was abruptly interrupted by my beeper. Its tone pierced the quietness and solitude of the room. I was needed urgently in the obstetric unit. After promising to return, I rushed off.
The contrast between the delivery room and the room that I had just left could not have been greater. From sadness and despair to joy and anticipation. Within minutes, a newborn was welcomed into the loving arms of her parents. As the father was cutting the cord, my eyes were diverted to movement in the doorway. A nurse from the medical unit looked at me and mouthed the words “He’s gone.” Her birth and his death had seemingly occurred at precisely the same moment.
After finishing in the delivery room, I returned to the medical floor to try to bring comfort to the man’s wife. My instinct told me that I should avoid talking about the joyful birth experience. This assumption could not have been more incorrect. Like so many times in my medical career, a patient or family member would teach me the parts of medicine that are not found in books.
Her first words to me as I entered the room, were to ask about the health of the baby and mother. She was delighted to hear that they were doing great.
“Boy or girl?” She asked. “A girl.” I replied, trying to think of a way to change the subject.
“He would be so happy to know that he made way for a new life to begin. He had such a love for children.”
She told me about her husband, and his life as a minister. She talked of their faith journey together. She also talked about the new life that began that night and the hope that she had for the newborn child. Her sadness was tempered by thoughts of the new life.
A birth. A death. A beginning and an end. A new mother. A new widow. Tears of happiness. Tears of sorrow. His heart slowed as her heart leapt into vitality. His pulse weakened as her pulse bounded. As his hands turned blue and cold, hers became pink and warm. As his lungs took that final breath and became silent, her lungs filled for the first time and her voice pierced the room, announcing her arrival.
And yet, the two rooms were not so dissimilar. The hope for the future held by the new parents was akin to the hope of the new widow. As an earthly father cut the umbilical cord setting free a life on earth, the Heavenly Father cut the cord that had tethered a life to this earth and set his spirit free.
“Then our Lord…will give you a glorious welcome into his kingdom that will last forever.” 2 Peter 2:11 Contemporary English Version This is a true story. It occurred early in my career as a family physician in rural Wisconsin.