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他的名字是大卫 His Name is David

这是在两周前发生在美国怀俄明州的托马斯和萨拉.威尔逊夫妇家的真实记载 。他们准许你使用这篇文章。请注意,即使提早预产期4个月,未出生的孩子依然是一个孩子!
2011年2月6日

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他的名字是大卫。我认识他仅两个半小时。但是我依然想念他。

他比他应该出生的日子提早四个多月到来。妈妈体力耗尽超出极限,与阑尾炎暴发感染的剧痛,痛苦地斗争着。 她的身体,决定不打这一仗,让孩子继续生长着。

接着,在星期六早上5:30,经过一阵巨大的痛苦,我们有了一个孩子。

在那场“战斗”中,护士问我,是否想要见他。我告诉她,我不知道。那时我一直在哭,但我可以看到大摊的血,能听到我的妻子痛苦的尖叫声,我脑海里有一个早产儿的图像,就像你有时看过的,看起来像是畸形鱼的早产儿...我不想记住他是个孩子以外的什么,还不如什么都不记得了更好。

但是,我能够从眼角看到动静。我可以看到这些护士-这些美丽的,美丽的护士-认真清理宝宝,用毛毯包裹他。 她们把他视为一个珍贵的东西,这种生物是绝对没有机会生还,出生后只有死亡。她们对待他就像一个婴儿。而且,从我的眼角,我看到了一只小手在毯子里移动。我不能忍住。我看了看。

我看到,那不是一个畸形的,可怕的什么。我看到一个婴儿。 一个小小的,美丽,可爱,完美,一半大小的婴儿,精致的眼睛仍然合着,皮肤几乎是半透明的。我看见小小的,完美的手和脚。我看到了一个聪明的脸,看起来那么像我的女儿,完美地融合了爸爸妈妈的特点。我看到我的儿子!

然后我抱起他,轻搂着他,试图记住他的脸。 护士说,他可能活几分钟,或一小时。而实际上他坚持了近三个小时。坚强的小家伙,喜欢他的妈妈,喜欢他的爸爸。我抱住他。妈妈也抱着他。在一次“战斗”中的间歇,妈妈稳定下来,走出了直接的危险,一个护士问我,是否他有一个名字。在经历这么多惊恐之中,我从没想过给他一个名字,但是,我记得我们作了决定。“他的名字是大卫。”

在接下来的几个小时中,我们来回传递抱着他,妈妈和我,我们对他说话。我唱他是我最强大,最神奇的歌曲。妈妈吻了他的头,告诉他,她爱他。 一个美丽的护士告诉我,有一点,那就是我们的爱,这孩子将永远都知道。她说着,眼中的泪水涌了出来。 我敢肯定我也是。

我能感觉到他越来越冷。这么小的婴儿无法产生自己的体温。我告诉一名护士,她带走他。几分钟后他回到他的温暖的小毯中,头上戴上小帽,小脚包在小袜中。美丽的护士。 她们向我保证他没有苦难,我相信她们-他的动作很少,温柔,不是用力的踢,我们都知道如果有东西困扰他,他一定能传递给我们。每隔几分钟,就会过来一个护士,使用微型听诊器检查他的心跳。它逐渐变的缓慢和微弱。最后,在8:05时,护士摇摇头。“我什么也听不到了。”

妈妈要再抱他一次。她没让孩子走,直到她调整好并准备好接受。

就是这样。

他会成为一个什么人? 他会一个运动员吗? 一个学者?一个音乐家?一位探险家?建筑工地?猎人?科学家吗?一个渔夫?一个数学家? 一个樵夫?一个环保主义者?他会不会是狂暴的和迅速采取行动的,还是安静的,善于思考的?鲁莽的或谨慎的? 一个有肌肉的工人,还是有想法的创造者? 一个开放国家的粗鲁人,还是一个文明,高雅的人? 一个属灵的人,或一个属世界的现实的人?

现在,他将永远不会成为任何人。而且我知道,他是自由的,现在,可以成为他们全都。

安息吧,小家伙,在创造你的神的怀抱中。永远完美。直到永远,我的儿子。

Tom Wilson, 2011;翻译:Celia

Why not see:
 
  Get Adobe PDF Reader你怎么知道耶稣爱你
  Get Adobe PDF Reader为什么我相信神 Why I Believe God Exists

His Name is David

This true story took place in Wyoming, January 2011

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His name is David. I only knew him for two and a half hours. And I miss him.

He came over four months earlier than he should have. Mom was taxed beyond her physical limits, fighting a horrific combination of pain and infection from a burst appendix. Her body decided that it could not fight this battle and still continue to grow this child.

And so, at 5:30 Saturday morning, amid great pain and horror, we had a baby.

The nurse asked me, right there in the midst of battle, if I wanted to see him. I told her I didn't know. I was crying, but I could see lots of blood; I could hear my wife screaming in pain, and I had a mental image of those pre-term babies you sometimes see...the ones that look sort of like deformed fish. I did not want to remember him as anything other than a baby. Better not to remember at all.

But I could see movement out of the corner of my eye. I could see these nurses--these beautiful, beautiful nurses--carefully cleaning the baby, wrapping him in blankets. They treated him as a precious thing, this creature that there was absolutely no chance of saving, born only to die. They treated him like a baby. And, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tiny hand move in the blankets. I couldn't help myself. I looked.

I saw, not a deformed, horrible thing. I saw a baby. A tiny, beautiful, delightful, perfect, half-sized baby, with eyes that were still fused, skin so delicate it was almost translucent. I saw tiny, perfect hands and feet. I saw an intelligent face that seemed so like my daughters, a perfect blend of mom's and dad's features. I saw my son.

I took him then, and held him, trying to memorize his face. The nurses said he might live a few minutes, or an hour. As it was, he held on almost three. Tough little guy, like his mom, like his dad. I held him. Mom held him. During a lull in the battle, when mom had been stabilized and brought out of immediate danger, a nurse asked me if he had a name. It had not occurred to me, there in the midst of all that horror, to give him his name, but I remembered what we had decided. "His name is David."

We spent the next couple hours or so passing him back and forth, mom and I. We talked to him. I sang him my most powerful, most magical songs. Mom kissed his head and told him she loved him. One of the beautiful nurses told me, at one point, that love was all this boy would ever know. She had tears in her eyes as she said it. I'm pretty sure I did too.

I could feel him getting colder. A baby this size can't generate its own body heat. I mentioned this to a nurse, and she took him, only to return him a few moments later wrapped in a warmed blanket, with a tiny knit cap on his head, tiny knit socks on his feet. Beautiful nurses. They assured me he wasn't suffering, and I believed them--his movements were infrequent and gentle, not the hard kicks we both knew he was capable of delivering when something was bothering him. Every few minutes, one of the nurses would use a miniature stethoscope to check his heartbeat. It gradually got slower and fainter. Finally, at 8:05, the nurse shook her head. "I don't hear anything."

Mom asked to hold him one more time. She didn't let go until she was darn good and ready.

And that was that.

What would he have been? Would he have been an athlete? A scholar? A musician? An explorer? A builder? A hunter? A scientist? A fisherman? A mathematician? A logger? An environmentalist? Would he have been boisterous and quick to act, or quiet and thoughtful? Reckless, or cautious? A worker with his muscles, or a creator with his mind? A rough man of the open country, or a man of civilization and refinement? A spiritual man, or a practical man of the world?

Now, he will never be any of those things. And somehow I know he is free, now, to be all of them.

Rest easy, little buddy, in the arms of the God who made you. Forever perfect. Forever my son.

 

Tom Wilson, 2011;翻译:Celia


Why not see:
 
  Get Adobe PDF Reader 你怎么知道耶稣爱你
  Get Adobe PDF Reader 为什么我相信神 Why I Believe God Exists