My son Zac was born at 27 1/2 weeks gestation, he was roughly 3 months premature and weighed just under a kilogram (less than half a pound). I used to joke that I'd eaten bigger steaks. This tiny baby, who I could hold in the palm of my hand was my first child and a crash course in the importance of faith.
The doctor told us that with intensive, around-the-clock care he had a roughly 7% chance of survival. For 3 or more months he lived in a humidicrib, unable to breath on his own he required constant oxygen, gastric tube feeding and a cocktail of IV fed medications, pain killers, stimulants to prevent him dropping into a coma or forgeting to keep breathing, too small to support his own weight - he wasn't supposed to be subject to gravity yet - he needed to be turned regularly.
“I always expect the worst, then at least I'll be right when things go wrong”, that had been my simple philosophy up until this life changing event. I was such a smug rationalist, being right was so important to me that I'd rather fail at something and be right than hope for something better and be proven wrong.
That all changed when Zac was born though, before (and after), if someone had told me to devote 18 hours of every day for months to a gamble that had only a 7% chance of paying off I would have told them it wasn't worth it, but that attitude wasn't an option when life was on the line, in extremis, the limiting cynicism of my pessimistic outlook was made abundantly clear, if only for a few months.
For those seemingly endless weeks I was a different man, no longer listless and detached, every morning before dawn and every evening Zac's mother and I were at his side, holding his hand through the little portal in his plastic terrarium, changing him, changing his tubes, adjusting his oxygen, monitoring his levels. I never allowed myself to believe that he wasn't going to make it, I never lost hope, there were dark nights of course, cascading organ failure and infection, heartstopping midnight phone calls from the hospital, long agonising hours waiting for news during one life-saving surgery after another.
For those months life demanded my full attention and presence. And faith in the outcome made it possible.
Eventually, some 4 or so months later we finally got to take our baby boy home, but in the relief and resolution of those events I forgot that, above all else, the thing that had got us through this gruelling chapter was the faith that it was going to work out for the best, the belief that all the effort was going to be worth it. Faith and what was at stake made the, early mornings, late nights and long days achievable and (along with the incredible efforts of medical staff of course) the outcome possible.
Fast forward 16 years, trying to think my way out of my mental traps and habits I finally took the lesson to heart, the key to overcoming my battle with Anxiety and Depression was the realisation that what I believed was creating the outcomes. If I didn't believe I was successful, I was by default believing that I was failing, I was only seeing the evidence that supported that belief, to overcome self limiting habits thought patterns I had to believe first that I would overcome them and then prove that I was right.
Life isn't a science experiment, requiring proof of success before believing something was possible, or trying and taking a setback as evidence that trying wasn't enough was an inevitably downward spiral of diminishing possibility and potential. My nihilistic philosophy was creating a dark world for me with a bleak future, by trusting that I was going to get through and choosing to see evidence of that in every outcome I am reversing the spiral, travelling up little by little out of that hole.
And by choosing to believe that by living in the moment at every opportunity, and living from my heart, my hopes and aspirations are never so distant as to seem impossible. My satisfaction doesn't rely on some vague ideal of what I want to achieve or own in 5 years or 10, I can find satisfaction in doing the dishes, or planting herbs, or holding my woman in that silent hour before dawn, or finishing a story.
Or, today, dropping Zac off at his first day of work.
Faith that things will improve is the only thing we can hold on to when all other circumstances look grim.
Your story was moving. I have two young boys and can't imagine what you went through. Thanks for sharing. Upvoted and following!