January 12th, 2013.
Cash was born today. He died yesterday. A normal calendar in uncomfortable with the sequence of the previous two facts. But one can’t change the facts…the calendar will just have to relent this one time. Our fifth son, Cash Michael Flint, died on the 11th of January, 2013. He was born on the 12th. This is the story of his short life, his family and the reality of losing Cash.
The Rules:
First, while some of the narrative that follows may not sound like we’re very appreciative of God or His plan…we must acknowledge that He is doing exactly what He intends. He is the Creator of the universe, the Namer of stars, the Designer of snowflakes and fingerprints, the Giver of life…ultimately, one has to admit He knows what He’s doing. Fighting Him is like a one-armed blind man fighting Mike Tyson back when he was in his prime and not biting off ears. So please don’t confuse our raw feelings as contempt for God. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Second, allow us a moment to express our sincerest gratitude for the thousands…literally thousands…of notes, prayers, messages, e-mails, calls and other expressions of love that we received. We are awestruck by the sheer quantity of people who supported us, both known and unknown. It is encouraging to know how many Christians are really out there…and how many would hit their knees for a stranger.
Third, this narrative will likely be very long. It will include everything we can recall about Cash’s story because we don’t ever want to forget the details. The details sharpen the memories…both good and bad. Portions of this may bore you…so remember, this isn’t necessarily for you. It’s for us…It’s therapy and it’s memory. That said, we’re honored that you want to be a part of our family and know more about our son. Some of this will include intimate details…some of it may be uncomfortable…we understand the risks of making all of this public. It is our prayer that our story might help somebody else…this can only happen if we’re honest and include the hard parts, too.
What Happened:
We just thought Rebekah peed herself. But, not at first. I returned from work last Wednesday to a very troubled Rebekah who had tears welling up in her eyes, “I think we need to go to the doctor.” “Not again” was my first thought. It’s a selfish thought and a scary one. We just did this 361 days ago with Tripp…”Please, God, not again.” So the doctor had us come in immediately and he did an ultrasound and checked Rebekah for fluid. Cash looked great…in fact, he was showing off his more masculine features. This was the third confirmation that Cash was going to be a Cash and not a Lucy. And Rebekah was dry…no evidence of any kind of leaking. The doctor ultimately laughed and said…”Rebekah, you just peed yourself.” No way! So he said, “Did you smell your pants?” “No, I didn’t smell my pants” she indignantly replied. “Ok, this is gross, but I’m going to smell your pants for you. Yep…it’s pee.”
What a relief! Rebekah made me swear I wouldn’t tell a soul about this. I suppose this commentary is the breaking of that vow. She’ll get over it. The relief, however, only lasted about two hours. A second gush brought back concern. Something wasn’t right. This was not normal. Rebekah planned on going back to the doctor in the morning…but at about 9 o’clock, she was overcome by pain. Pain in her chest, her hips, her legs. Cries of agony. Tears. Fear. Relief turned to terror as concern for the baby’s life turned into concern for the mom’s life.
What goes through your mind when you think you’re watching your wife die? What goes through your mind when you think you’re going to die? Rebekah just kept muttering, “Something’s wrong with me…something’s wrong with me.” She couldn’t move. I had just gotten out of the shower and found my wife writhing in agony in her bed, crying and holding her chest. She wasn’t breathing right, she wasn’t normal…”something’s wrong…” In retrospect, I didn’t do anything right. I didn’t check her vitals, I didn’t check her airways…I was quite literally naked and scared. Helplessness.
My kids’ adopted uncle and aunt, Tio Pablo and Tia Sarah, were downstairs spending the night with my children watching movies and playing Wii. I screamed for Pablo, “Paul! Paul, get up here!” I don’t know what Paul was going to do…but it was all I could think of doing at the moment. I paced three or four times from my closet to the bedroom trying to clear my head. I looked three times in my underwear drawer and couldn’t manage to think straight enough to get dressed…so I grabbed a towel and ran downstairs to call the doctor. My children were terrified, but I didn’t notice them. Tia shooed them into their rooms as I talked with the doctor about her condition…Paul helped Rebekah down the stairs and we loaded her into the car.
On the drive to the hospital, Rebekah leaned her seat back to try to get comfortable on the drive in. She was quiet. Her breathing sounded sporadic. And as we turned onto Encalada Avenue, her arms dropped to either side of her with a thump. I thought she died right then and there. My heart stopped. I looked over at her and she didn’t move…what was the right decision now? Stop and try to revive her or keep driving? The hospital was only two minutes away. I grabbed her hand and she squeezed mine…my wife was still alive.
We were rushed to labor and delivery. By this time, Rebekah was coherent, but in obvious pain. Confusion flushed her face. The doctor arrived just a short time later…her hospital stay was about to begin and Cash’s life was about to end.
Wednesday — The Decision:
Dr. Del Riego marched into the room under control. There was a flurry of activity, but I remember time standing still when he gave us his plan: start antibiotics and the Pitocin. Quiet. “What?” Rebekah demanded indignantly. The doctor stuttered a little bit, but reiterated his plan to begin delivery right then. His “professional opinion” offended our beliefs and we, under the circumstances, explained so with as much control as we could muster. I remember saying, “No way. No way we’ll do that….Doctor, you just saw Cash today…he’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with him.” I was furious. No lab had been accomplished, no test had been run, no other opinions had been consulted…his advice was to kill my boy.
He could see the loathing on my face. I’m not good a hiding my emotions sometimes. He excused himself and Rebekah and I had an opportunity to talk. We were indignant. Pissed, frankly. How could this guy demand we abort our baby? In Peru, abortion is illegal…so every time I used the word, the doctor corrected it to “deliver.” Semantics…the result would be the same. This is the first time I can remember actually praying about the situation since it began earlier in the day. God had to save my son.
This is when we decided to turn to Facebook for prayer. We were virtually alone in Peru…our circle of friends is very small here. We posted this on Rebekah’s wall:
“We need prayer. Please pray that God’s will be done in the life of our baby. I am in the hospital and the doctor is suggesting an abortion to prevent further infection. We ask that you pray away the infection so this choice will not have to be made. If the choice has to be made, I will suffer for the sake of my baby…in any case, please pray for the Flints.”
And then…within minutes, we were blown away by the response. Within hours, repostings had occurred and we had been added to prayer lists at various churches throughout the country…in Georgia, Missouri, Arkansas, Texas, Florida. By the early afternoon, we had received encouraging notes and messages from hundreds of friends and strangers alike.
Shortly after midnight, we decided to reject the Doctor’s course and decided to risk further infection in order to spare Cash’s life.
Thursday — Hope to Reality:
At about eight the next morning, a new midwife, Janice, arrived. She was the supervisor of the floor and apparently had much experience. Communicating was difficult as she had no English and I didn’t learn the word for “uterus” (among others) in my Spanish language training at the Defense Language Institute. Janice was encouraging and positive and suggested that this was just a small tear in Rebekah’s water sack and it could heal itself. She made Rebekah comfortable and was an absolute blessing.
Our good friend, Kristen, showed up late in the morning. She is a registered nurse in the United States and serves in Peru as a school nurse in our kid’s school. We called her and within a few short minutes, she arrived. We will never be able to stress enough how invaluable her experience and help was to us. She is an important part of this story.
The morning was mostly quiet. Rebekah and I started our planning. We were devising a plan to get her back the United States until Cash could be delivered safely. We developed a code too…”TCS” or “this country sucks.” Every time something happened that was inexplicable…such as requiring me to wear plastic shopping bags on my shoes when the doctors walk around in sleeveless smocks…we’d utter “TCS.” We had hope that Cash could be saved…but it was going to be hard.
We talked about who would take care of our kids if Rebekah went to the United States. We talked about the pros/cons of different locations and how we could get the best medical care. We talked about Jade’s graduation and how Rebekah could make it back. We questioned how one even gets a medical evacuation. Where were the best hospitals? How stable would Rebekah have to be in order to travel? It was all hopeful talk, but it was stressful. We knew Cash would make it…but it was going to be a challenge on everyone.
Shortly after noon, another ultrasound was ordered up. This one was tough to watch. Cash still looked great…strong heart, perfectly shaped body. But he was uncomfortable. There was very little amniotic fluid left. Nobody talked about this in the room.
By the way, I had an incredible amount of work at the office and an important visit occurring in the next week. I was constantly fielding calls and emails regarding this visit and was simply getting overwhelmed. My Blackberry died twice on Thursday.
I ran into the embassy to get some help from my office regarding the visit and stopped by to see the embassy doctor. It was a frank conversation. In fifteen minutes, this doctor’s second opinion supported our doctor’s opinion. She was clear. Cash wasn’t going to make it medically. A medical evacuation would likely not change the outcome. Rebekah could die in our attempt to save Cash. Both could die. I laid out my faith and she laid out her medicine. I remember hearing at one time in my life something like, “God uses doctors.” Without knowing, this woman helped me reflect…was I asking for something not in accordance with his will?
I stopped by the house and my kids were definitely missing their Mom. Nora’s “Where’s Mommy?” must have been asked seventy times. I grabbed some movies and some toothpaste and some make-up (but no pearl necklace) for my bride…all at her request. My kids were working on “Welcome Home” signs and Tio and Tia hadn’t let my house burn down yet. I also found a note written by Lily. It was more of journal entry. The impact of the previous night was going to last awhile. Here is what she wrote:
All I can think/pray “not again”! Mama can’t lose her baby again. She was devastated over Tripp. I’m trying (and failing) not to cry. I can’t get the sound of Mom’s crys of pain out of my head. Or Tia on the verge of tears trying to stay strong for us. Or Dad running out in his towel doing I’m not sure what. Mom asked me to stay in her room in case Nora wakes up. Tio decided to hang out with me. M&D are on their way to the hostpitol now.
I returned to the hospital and Rebekah was asleep. Kristen and I sat outside her room and I explained everything the embassy doctor had told me. And I cried. Where was the good in this? If Cash didn’t make it, this would be our third consecutive child to die. Kate died in July of 2011, Tripp in January of 2012…now Cash? “God! What are you doing? Why are you doing this to us? This plan sucks. We want our children…and you’re taking them from us. This isn’t good. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair.” I was angry with God. I felt like God really didn’t care, to be quite honest. That he was ignoring his people. Thousands of people were praying and things were just getting worse. What was the point of prayer? God’s plan was lame. I tried to weep quietly.
Kristen sat still and listened. She responded with her own opinion…which was better than mine. She told me she didn’t know why either…but that in our ignorance, he has knowledge. She told me, that deep inside her core, she knew for sure that we haven’t seen the full picture yet. We aren’t given the full picture and it takes time for it to be revealed. God knows how this looked from our perspective and still did it anyway…he knew the risks involved with making this move…it was for God’s glory. We have to just wait and see how it would turn out. Maybe we’d have to wait a long time. I’m paraphrasing Kristen’s comments…they were much more eloquent (from what I could hear through my sniffles). I was strengthened by her.
Rebekah was awake when we went back in the room. I hadn’t cried quietly enough. She knows I get emotional when my kids are involved. So I sat next to her and debated what I should tell her about the doctor visit at the embassy. I settled on the truth. We were facing another difficult decision…Cash was likely going to die. Even if we delivered him, he was only going to have a moment with us. How could we do this with the least amount of pain for him?
So I held Rebekah’s hand and I told her this with sadness wrecking my body: “Rebekah, if we’re going to have to make this decision…I want to be the one that says, ‘Do it’. I want to be the one that actually says it out loud. I don’t want you to have to say it.” I couldn’t say this without crying. I wanted to spare my wife the burden of this decision but I didn’t exactly relish the idea of following through with it. Who can say, “Take my son?” I imagine even God wept when his plan was being carried out with Jesus. How could he not?
My wife, the strongest woman I know, couldn’t accept my gift. She told me she’d never let me do that. She told me I’d never be able to live with myself. She, being smarter, suggested we pray. And so we did. Kristen held Rebekah’s other hand and we prayed to our God…the prayer consisted of the same prayer request we sent out immediately following to you on Facebook:
And so, again, our request went out to the world. I know this prayer request hit thousands of cell phones and Ipads and laptops within minutes. And I know God’s church was imploring for him to act. And we’re completely overwhelmed by the response. But I have to admit something. At this point, I was feeling like a fraud. I was reading comments about my faith and how strong I was and about my great perspective on this ordeal. To be completely clear, because it’s important for you to know, I was not happy with God’s decision unless it was option number 2. I felt like I had to give God an “out” in case things didn’t work out like I wanted…if I request all three things, then no matter what happened, God’s “will” would be done. What a fraud God was and what a fraud I was. All of you who thought I was being strong….I couldn’t have been weaker…
I went home…Rebekah’s fever was receding, Kristen had things under control with the medical team and my kids needed their Dad. Brock and Colt were spending the day at the Yoakum’s house and my girls were hanging out with Tia. Here was an opportunity to explain to my daughters that there was a chance they’d not get to meet their brother. At this point, they didn’t even know his name.
So, around the kitchen island, my girls were getting ready to eat. I told them as softly as I could that they might not get to meet their new brother. I told them “Cash Michael” is his name…this was met with mixed reviews. I had earlier told Bryn that we might name him “Methuselah”…she was relieved we picked Cash. The girls listened. They needed time to process it all. Papa John’s was served…but Lily went to her room. She was beside herself. My children’s desire for another sibling cannot be described. Her heart was ripped in half by the news…
Brock and Colt got home from their friends’ house. I took them upstairs to get them ready for bed. While in my bathroom, I explained to the boys that Cash was probably going to die. That only a miracle could save him. I explained that he would get to die in his Mom’s arms and wouldn’t suffer for very long. Brock thought this over and made one of the coolest suggestions I’ve ever heard in my life. He asked how long Cash would have. I told him, “Probably only a few seconds…it wouldn’t be long.” “Dad, you should take a picture of our family…the ones we just did…you should take that picture with you and show it to Cash when he’s born so he’ll know his family. That way, he’ll know us when we get to Heaven.” My son’s understanding of Heaven and faith…he’s seven.
I tucked my boys in bed and we made the same prayer that their Mother and I did just hours before. Colt interrupted the prayer, a commonality in this house, with the following statement: “This prayer is going to make me cry.” I love them.
I came back downstairs to visit with my daughters again. I shared with them both Brock and Colt’s statements. They agreed a picture would be good. Lily went and got it for me. I grabbed the camera to get it ready. We sat quietly in the living room for a while and Emma told me, “There’s still a chance, right Dad?” I didn’t have an answer for her. I simply didn’t think there was a chance anymore. And then the phone rang. It was Kristen. “Nate, God answered our prayer…Rebekah’s bleeding. You should probably come back.”
“Cash is dying. I need to go be with him.” This probably wasn’t the best thing I could have said at that already tense moment…it wasn’t delicate. It was too much for the ears of my girls. Lily left for her room. Jade sat frozen. Emma’s tears began to flow. Emma, if you don’t know her, gets angry at injustice. This was injustice to her. As I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, Emma yelled out, “Dad, it’s never too late for a miracle. Dad!” She was crying. “No, Emma…it’s not. It’s never too late for a miracle.” Those were the last words I heard leaving my house.
I thought about them on the way in. It’s never too late for a miracle. Why couldn’t I have the same faith as my kids? The ones who want to share pictures with dying babies and have hope for a miracle until the last possible moment. When Jesus cursed the olive tree, he explained that faith could move mountains. Was I to blame for Cash’s death…if no miracle came, would it be because my faith was too weak?
I got back to the hospital and they started Rebekah on the Pitocin. I was tired, she was tired, Kristen was tired. It was late. Normally, 3 hours after the Pitocin is started, my wife delivers. This was the expected course. So, God answered with option number three. He spared us the responsibility of deciding “when”. Not the option I wanted. But I had mostly accepted it. The doctor tracked down some Mylanta (or equivalent) for me…I hate delivery rooms. It’s true.
Mylanta Dose 1
We then posted this on Facebook:
Friends…thank you a million times over for your prayers. God has heard you and has given an answer…Rebekah has gone into labor and we didn’t have to choose the timing. God did. He spared us that pain and is sparing our son the additional pain of waiting any longer. We thank our Almighty God for his wise decision…he again has shown us how much he loves us. And in a few short hours, Cash will be giving Jesus a fist pump. One more update tomorrow…
Friday– …To Those Who Wait
Three hours came and went. Rebekah didn’t even have a little contraction. Nothing. She laid flat in bed and from time to time, she could still feel Cash trying to stretch out. He was still with us on Friday morning. “It’s never too late for a miracle” kept flashing through my head.
Rebekah needed to take a shower…so the nurses wrapped Rebekah’s hand in a plastic shopping bag to protect the IV attachments. When she got out of the shower, the bag was completely full of water. Interestingly, the hospital room was full of dust and mosquitos because the windows were open. So…instead of being concerned about dirt and diseases, they were concerned about water on her hand. TCS. We had to laugh.
Friday was actually a gift from God. It was a day of acceptance. It was a day of waiting and reflecting. It was a day of Duck Dynasty. A day for laughter. We brought the girls up to see their Mom. It was interesting. Only Lily would snuggle with her Mom. Emma stayed clear. Bryn was her typical laid-back self. We don’t know if this was intentional or not…just an observation.
They left at about noon. Rebekah hadn’t eaten for many, many hours. The doctor finally relented and let her eat some McDonalds…right after he said the word, “Puke…what is that?” pointing to a McWrap. Our old doctor was back…the one that was light-hearted but direct. Our earlier anger with him had disappeared. We have always respected his guidance and professionalism. We still do. Rebekah is his worst nightmare…she questions EVERYTHING. He’s given up trying to force her to do anything. It took him less time than me to learn. The hospital food was, for every meal, broth and chicken. Oh…and purple gelatin. It went largely unconsumed on the few opportunities it was offered.
Rebekah got some serious sleep on Friday. I read lots of the Bible and received a note from an old friend from the Academy. He shared with me 2 Samuel 12; 16-23. It’s the story of David losing his son (you should quickly go read it now)…it seemed really cold to me when I read it first. Then I realized that continued anger and weeping and protesting weren’t going to change a thing. I really believe that Cash died about the same time I read this scripture. He stopped moving Friday afternoon. He was home.
Kristen had only seen two episodes of Duck Dynasty in her whole life. It was time to sit her down and expose her to the wisdom of Phil and Si. I consider Duck Dynasty to be parenting lessons. We laughed and laughed and laughed. “Another episode?” “Um…yah.”
“Um…yah.” This is a Peruvian thing. Mostly women. I think it means something like “Roll Tide” or “Cool” or any number of words that can meaning absolutely anything in any scenario. Sometime on Friday, we began to point out every “Um…yah” that we heard. There were a lot of them.
Friday was a gift from God. Had Cash been taken on Wednesday or Thursday, it would have been so overwhelming. We weren’t prepared for it physically, mentally or spiritually. Friday gave us the time we needed to absorb and accept God’s will. You hear about how perfect God’s timing is…this is just another example. He knew we needed Friday…we didn’t know.
I was still struggling with Emma’s concern about miracles…and then I got a note from a friend of mine at work. His statement was simple: “Sometimes miracles don’t come in the way we expect them.” Cash was a miracle. He is a miracle. Not the one I expected. Better.
Saturday–Cash’s Birthday:
“Contractions have started…finally! Cash isn’t with us anymore…but his birthday will be today. How weird–he gets to watch his own birth and encourage his Mom. I think that’s pretty cool…”
This was our post early on Saturday morning. There was no rush, or commotion. There was calm. Rebekah was concerned about an epidural here in Peru…after all, TCS. However, Rebekah says it was the absolute best epidural she’s ever had in her life. She’s had lots of them. What a small blessing.
At about 1030 in the morning, Cash got here. He was perfect. No doll maker in the history of the world could have made a more perfect man. He was just a miniature baby. His little arms were across his body, his hands wide open. His fingers…they were perfect. Little knuckles, little thumbs…little fingerprints. God is the designer of fingerprints. He was a good lookin’ man. I held him first and told him I loved him. I just looked at him. For a second, just a second, I desperately wanted him to wake up. I wanted his eyes to open. How painful that would have been. I had already told him goodbye on Friday…doing it twice would have been impossible. I gave Cash to his mom and fetched our family picture out of Rebekah’s bag. As Rebekah held Cash, I introduced him to everybody. Mom and Dad he already knew…but there was Jade and Lily, Emma and Bryn, Brock and Colt, Dane and Nora. We told him to look for Kate and Tripp…but he had already met them the day before. Cash was born today…but he died yesterday. Again, the calendar had to accept it. So did I.
We handed Cash to the nurse. It wasn’t really him…it was just a body. His soul was living without sin, without pain, without loss, without sickness. He’s the lucky one. Why would we want to change this? Who would we really want to pull out of Heaven? That would be a good way to tick somebody off…Cash is where he belongs. He is where God intended him to be.
We won’t know the reason for this. But a grown man will hug me when I get to Heaven. He’ll say this, “Welcome home, Dad.”
Inside the Tipi 