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Two days ago was our son, Bayr Alan Russell Ring's, 1 week birthday. In the morning, Chewy looked over at me, then at Bayr and said, “Wow, what an adventure it’s been.” That comment really allowed me to take a deep breath and look back in gratitude on not only the past week of our son’s life, but the past two years of Chewy and I’s journey as a couple, for reasons that are unbeknownst to most people we know. Because of that, I thought this was a good time to reflect “aloud” for our friends and family, as a sort of therapeutic exercise for myself.
Tuesday through Friday were some of the most memorable days of our life. Of course, there was the usual excitement that surrounds every delivery and the first couple nights with our little “Cubbie”. Everyone has such a unique journey, and we were lucky enough to have a great pregnancy and an even more incredible delivery. Although it was odd to have only Chewy and I present throughout our entire hospital stay (I never imagined having to deliver any of my children without my mom), with medical masks in-tow (which, I might add, is uncomfortable to wear while lounging on the couch, let alone while in active labor), we learned so much about our little man in those 3 days… and we learned those things together. We arrived at the hospital around 2pm, and Bayr was in our arms just 9 whopping hours later, which surprised everyone, including the doctors and nurses. This means we ran out of time for a lot of things… No time for much of anything in terms of pain management (thank God for the “peanut ball”, yoga stretches, and Chewy’s hand to squeeze off) and no time for the doctor to even be present for the delivery. After 2 hours of active labor, Bayr made his debut after just 3 big pushes with only 4 nurses present. About an hour after his delivery, the nurse informed us that Bayr was born “en caul”, which means that he was born still inside his amniotic sac. When he came, he gave one big punch, breaking the “seal”, and let out his first cry immediately… so immediate, in fact, that we had no idea any of this happened! An en caul birth happens in just 1/80,000 births and is completely harmless to the baby. Actually, it is known to be a sign of good fortune; one of our family members who was familiar with this medical phenomenon told us it’s said to be “magical and a sign of greatness.” His birth story traveled around the hospital, and we had multiple staff members come up to us saying “Oh, your son is the special little “en caul” boy! I wish I could've been there to see that.” His entrance into this world was just the first of many miracles we are sure to witness with this little one.
The journey leading up to Bayr and his arrival is a hard one to discuss, but has been a journey that has tested and deepened my faith in every way. For those of you who know me and my family, you know (or at least I hope you know) that I am typically a happy-go-lucky individual, who loves to laugh, dance, be active, and enjoy as many new experiences as I can. I am not a particularly divulgent person. I would like to think that I have a particularly high pain tolerance, and try never to be described as “high maintenance.” In June of 2018, I began experiencing some chronic pain issues that stole a little bit of my joy. After each doctor’s visits, I felt part of my hope for a solution fade-- most of which were more harmful for my mental state than helpful, only suggesting pain management medications that could significantly affect my personality. After much prayer and consideration, I underwent a surgical procedure in April of 2019.
Throughout all of my experiences, my family, a few close friends, and my husband were so supportive of my endeavors to find a solution, and never questioned my pursuits in any way. Although that surgery did nothing for my pain issues, the doctors did make a discovery while I was under that would change my outlook on everything, strengthening my faith after months of doubt and constantly asking myself the unexplainable question “Why me?” I received a call about 7 days post op from a nurse saying, “Now don’t be alarmed, but the doctor did find and remove a cancerous tumor while you were under. He will call you in a couple days to explain.” For about 10 minutes, my world stopped. “Don’t be alarmed”? How am I supposed to "not be alarmed" after I just received a cancer diagnosis over the phone, without explanation from the doctor? After difficult phone calls were made, tears shed, and long hugs were had, my number one reaction was fear. However, looking back now, I realize how blessed I am to have friends that truly care, a family that prays, and a husband that’s by my side through every obstacle. After the call from the doctor, I watched my husband that I’ve been with since I was 16 turn into my warrior, ensuring I received the best care, by instantly reaching out to his contacts which ultimately led to a trip to the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, with the best doctors who specialized in my specific tumor. For the next couple weeks, we anxiously awaited our appointment, praying constantly. By God’s grace, we found out at the appointment that not only had the tumor not metastisized in any way, but no further treatment was required now or in the future.
Just a few short months after that, Chewy and I found out we were pregnant with our little man. Through all this, we have grown so much stronger in our faith and in our relationship. We’ve learned to cherish the time we have not only with each other, but with the people that surround us everyday. It’s helped us to realize that although we can’t always see, God has a plan for everything. That’s why now, through every cry, every poopy diaper, every “potty-in-our-faces”, every sleepless night, we realize how blessed we really are to have our little Bayr. When we settled on that name and were trying to decide on spelling, we came across one meaning of the word “Bay” that really stuck with us: “a crown given as a prize for victory or excellence.” After a couple of months dealing with so many emotions, situations, and challenges, we are so grateful to have won our little “prize.”
Faith isn’t believing that nothing challenging will ever happen to us. Faith means that through those challenges, we can rest in the knowledge that God has a plan... a plan for “a future and a hope.”
