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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required After four weeks... A cruel infection, poor Ted, now prevents you receiving Mummy's milk; nourishment vital for the whole of you. We long for you to breathe, to cry, to see. The waiting of all who hope for you, so long a time, so little movement. When will you be free? Free of infection to feed... A phone call: your eyes open, limbs moving, attempting to breathe. Yet intensive carers perplexed. A surgeon, when, whether to operate. It was hard – handing over, hanging on, waiting, hoping, while the surgeon cut in. Your swollen tum, distended, distressing to see; what would he find within you Ted? God within the tension attending now we wait with you, on watch without seeing. Together with Lorraine and Phil waiting, daring to hope, brother Rex distracting. Your heart strong as an ox, the surgeon said. With Ted returned, restored, gut cut away, foulness cleansed, stoma for waste; now long line your source of food – parenteral, no milk from Mum allowed. You survive, but to thrive, please God fulfil – our Ted fill full with life. Yes, Ted, you look, you hear and now you breathe. Mum and Dad hold you – now full of promise – yet still waiting and longing with patience as the teamwork of neonatal care works to rid you of intrusion, that you may regain all that God gave you for life. And after seven weeks That hard hour under the surgeon, for Ted marked a turning; so much put in to save you, yet when it should be taken away, how will you be? How will you suck, swallow and digest Mum's milk? excrete those strong drugs? But you have, you did and you are, ready to live. And now you are home, together with Mum and Dad and Rex. Thanks be to God. Yet still we ask what will become of you? Unknown the way ahead, further turnings await, but we believe in the promise of life, we pray for whom you are to be. At nine weeks, Look at you now, Ted. Now you look at us, smiling from the photo sent by Lorraine. But the smile of that moment belies pain, pain of the stomach acid from the wound, inflaming your infant skin and burning so sore, distressing you and Mum and Dad. Three weeks more till your bowel is put back. We wait in hope for you to be whole – Ted the survivor, saved by prayer and skill, the more precious for what you have endured. So much has become of you; a person now ready for life with Mum, Dad and Rex. And at three months: Advent Ted, how hard being denied milk, waiting for the surgeon. Now with your bowel restored you can feed and flourish. You smile. We watch. More than a surviving we believe you are a miracle. Prayer fulfilled, we trust now in the promise of you who will become. At nine months: Baptism We came together for you Ted, to be Baptised – sitting and smiling and reaching. Thanks be to God for so much, so many sharing in your becoming so alive. May your reaching out fulfil the promise we've made for you in love and hope today. And now aged six! Now signed off by all the doctors you met, Ted you are proving to be a charmer. As a future academic – no! Yet starting karate, quite a performer. Just learn how to focus, not get upset and keep yourself safe little risk taker.
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