Walking Through Fire

I had walked through a diagnosis, pregnancy, delivery, and death, but one day loomed before me that I dreaded most and feared with every fiber of my being. How could I possibly leave the hospital without my daughter?

I awoke that third and final morning at the hospital with tears already streaming down my face. Had I been dreaming? How did my body know? Very slowly I turned my head to look over at Emma nestled gently in her bassinet beside my hospital bed. The sight of her petite profile unleashed an unfathomable sorrow that surged from the depths of my soul. I squeezed my eyelids shut in a futile attempt to hold back the dam of despair. Hot tears defiantly poured down my cheeks and neck in rebellion, the cotton of my pale green hospital gown their final resting grounds. As if grief itself had a sound, a guttural groan pushed its way out of my mouth. In utter desperation, I cried out to God, “I can’t do this!” I had been through so much. But this, leaving her, I was certain would physically break my heart.

It’s difficult to put into words, but in that instant when my strength had been stripped away and I was utterly defenseless against the encroaching despair, I felt an extraordinary surge of supernatural strength. A swell of inexplicable power coursed from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. A profound, palpable peace fell on me that somehow obliterated my fear. There was no doubt in my mind: I had just received the aid of heaven itself, and not even death could stand against its power.

If I had ever thought of Emmanuel as just another name for God, I now knew better. My God, my Savior, my friend is with me. And in that moment, I realized He is everything I could ever want or need.

Together, Cole and I spent the morning tenderly rocking Emma and saying our final goodbyes. When the time came to leave, we handed her to our nurse, who continued rocking her as we left the hospital room and walked through the revolving doors that had ushered us in three days earlier. Settling into the car, we buckled our seat belts, looked at each other, and… smiled. It was the bittersweet smile of gratitude within sorrow. We had just experienced the unimaginable. We had just lived out the decision that some said was crazy. We had just walked through fire, and miraculously we weren’t burned.

Please hear me. The grief wasn’t suddenly gone, and the searing pain of loss hadn’t disappeared. But in that moment, I realized that those things didn’t hold the power I had feared they would. Something unlocked within me, a seed of increased faith that had been lying dormant. I felt a profound assurance that what I had said I believed all my life – that God is good, that He never leaves us, that Jesus defeated death – had all proved true to me.

Brooke Martin tells her story this Tuesday on LIFE TODAY. Excerpted from Controlled Burn by Brooke Martin. Copyright ©2024 by Brooke Martin. Published by Dexterity, LLC. Used by permission.