Season – sea·son – /ˈsēzən/
“any period or time”

161 over 110.

Seven days after our son was born, my wife and I were getting into bed for a night of broken sleep. 

She said that she didn’t feel right. 

My thoughts were, “Well, you had a baby one week ago, so it’s probably a normal hormone crash or something.” On the other hand, this was our third kid, so she’s been around the block a couple times now.

We laid down in bed and she couldn’t shake it. “I just don’t feel right. I know this sounds crazy, but I’m scared that if I go to bed, I won’t wake up in the morning.”

We looked for our blood pressure cuff and couldn’t find it, so she called her mom, a nurse. Nana and Papa came right over and held the baby while she took her pressure.

Too high.

“Maybe you didn’t take it right. Sit down. Take some breaths and try again.”

169 over 110.

We know it’s not good. 

“I think you need to go in and get checked out, Sis.”

It’s 10:30 p.m. All three kids are sleeping, so we tearfully leave them with the grandparents to run to Urgent Care. Since she’s seven days postpartum, we’re sent to labor and delivery. 

In triage, she’s hooked up to a BP monitor and the results are worse than we saw at home. 

181 over 119.

That’s the severe range.

An alarm continues to go off in our room as we wonder what’s about to happen. The doctor comes.

“We’re going to need to keep you overnight. You have postpartum preeclampsia.” 

The nurse begins using terms like “seizure” and “brain swelling.”

Because of covid protocols, they say I’m going to have to leave soon and that our newborn son can’t come in because he’s not breastfed. 

We lost it. 

Our nurse bent the rules and let me stay the rest of the night until shift change at 6 a.m. 

A restless six hours later, I had to kiss her goodbye and promise to return for the limited visiting hours.

I drove home in silence. 

Made coffee at home just in time to thank my in-laws for spending the night at our house. I gently explained to the kids what was going on with mommy. And they left with Nana and Papa for school so I could take a little nap.

With an empty house, the quiet makes me numb. I’m not sure I understand what just happened. 

It’s late enough in the morning that I can text family and friends to explain what’s going on. When I share, the numbness goes away. Pain, fear, and sadness come in. I can feel.

Am I ok? Is my wife going to be ok? 

In bed alone. Trying to sleep. Terrified of the notion that this was my new reality. 

I woke up a couple hours later to a text saying that her doctor fought on our behalf for our right to have little man and I  come and stay at the hospital.

We headed to the hospital for the next 48-hours. Everything went well with her treatment and were able to go home to our older two a couple days later.

But the experience has marked us, and it was just the beginning of a one-year journey we didn’t know we were on.

Now on the other side, I’m looking back and acknowledging all of the lessons we learned the hard way. 

The first? Be vulnerable. 

When things are unknown or overwhelming, I shift into what my wife and I call “go mode.” It’s a blinders-on, fast-paced, fake-smile kind of Caleb. 

When things got hard, I shifted into an indefinite “go mode.” “It’s going to be ok” was the mantra I repeated through my plastered smile. Life moved forward, but I isolated myself. Unable to be vulnerable.

I wish I would have shared more, felt more, hurt a bit more. 

Pain is meant to be felt, experienced, and addressed, not ignored. If you don’t, you risk losing something vital. 

But here’s the truth: Vulnerability brings intimacy. 

I’m seeing opportunity for vulnerability everywhere, even this week. As a husband. Leader. Father. Brother. Son. Christian.

What would happen if you were vulnerable with your spouse? Your kids? Your friends? What if you let them see what’s behind the curtain–that you don’t have it all together.

More importantly, what would happen if you found yourself saying, “Lord, I can’t do this. I need you.” 

Intimacy.

Intimacy is closeness, transparency, and bearing each other’s burdens. 

That’s where He wants us. 

Not because He’s an overlord bent on control, but a Father who loves us and genuinely knows what’s best for His kids. 

He can take our pain and bear our burdens, but only if we let Him in.

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. 

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. 

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.”

‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:6-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬