Baby Beth - The Miracle

"When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.  Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The LORD hath done great things for them.  The  LORD hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad." Psalm 126:1-3

The slender lady across the table adjusted her hajib.  

"Our daughter had open heart surgery a few weeks ago.  We will see her doctor on Wednesday.  Maybe we can go home then.  We will see."

It had taken several days of residence at the Ronald McDonald House Houston before I had the opportunity to visit with this Muslim family.  The mother had caught my eye the very first morning after we had arrived.  She was always in motion, it seemed.  Cooking in the common kitchen area, chasing her rambunctious toddler, trying to keep her young family entertained in the midst of a topsy turvy construction zone.  She looked exhausted and wary.  We became united of a Monday morning when tragedy struck.  Earlier that morning the kitchen had been walled off for demolition, with our groceries still inside!  Like most of my other interactions with families at RMH Houston, a shared woe sparked kinship.  As we commiserated over the lost victuals a wall of a different sort started to come down.  We continued to chat over a breakfast of leftover pizza gleaned from the community fridge - mine pepperoni, her family ate strictly cheese, because, you know, pork. 

One of the first questions you ask when getting to know someone at RMH Houston is, why are you here?  Sometimes the answer is heartrendingly obvious.  Little bald heads perched above spindly limbs and you know that cancer is the family's waking nightmare.  The blossoming mothers of warriors yet to born spend months receiving life saving treatments in utero.  Some of these ladies will have "twice born" children.  They celebrate their Butt Day as the day they were pulled out derriere first, the opening in their spine closed and then put back into the womb to await their Birth Day.  Elsabeth always garners a lot of interest because she is so young yet in apparently good health.  It can be a challenge to explain her rare condition and treatments, especially if there is already a language barrier.

"She was born with a brain aneurysm.  It is kind of like a water balloon, filled up with blood that swishes and swirls around.  She had her first surgery when she was three months old, the week after Thanksgiving.  Dr. Chen ran a catheter through the carotid artery in the groin up into the brain. He placed two coils in the smaller aneurysm and feeding artery.  This reduced the blood flow to the giant aneurysm by half.  He had to be really careful to not overdo it.  It is absolutely critical that a clot form in a very controlled manner.  If the clot propagates throughout the arteries, it would be fatal.  That's why we had to stay in the Pediatric Intensive Care for several days.  They had to keep a close eye on her.  She has been on aspirin therapy ever since.  

"She handled the first surgery really well.  I wasn't sure what to expect at first.  When the doctor came in to see her the morning afterwards, he waved his hand in front of her eyes and exclaimed, "Good, she can see!"  That startled me!  I knew the surgery was risky, but his declaration brought a whole new level of reality to the situation.  We were thankful she was doing so well, but she wasn't out of the woods yet.  Her aspirin regimen would be absolutely critical.  So was staying hydrated.  I must check her range of vision every day as well as monitor her head size.  If she was unable to raise her eyes, it could mean her brain stem was compressed.  A dramatic change in the size or shape of her head would signal the onset of hydrocephalus, water on the brain.  A detailed MRI would be necessary before the end of the year.  The next surgery would be right after New Year's.  It would be much more dangerous.  We should expect a PICU stay of at least five days. 

"So, we came home, celebrated Christmas and tried our best to get the MRI accomplished before it was time to head back south.  God moved heaven and earth to clear the way to get the test done in Tulsa on the last weekday of the year.  But the little booger wouldn't hold still!  They couldn't get the images the doctor needed.  We had to come back to Houston early to get the MRI done here.  I'm still puzzled as to why God made a miraculous opening for us at the local radiology department, but did not allow the actual test to take place.  Truth be told, I was kind of mad about it.  We were hoping that maybe the aneurysm had sealed itself off and surgery wouldn't be necessary.  But that must not be God's will.  Her second surgery is set for the day after tomorrow.  I don't know how long we will be here.  I'm prepared for this to be a much more difficult stay."

My companion nodded sympathetically.  No one really knows how long the RMH Houston will be their home.  Some stay only a few weeks, many stay for months.  Most will return repeatedly.  She missed her home in New Mexico.  So much was riding on that doctor's appointment on Wednesday.

It was just at this point that Robert walked into the dining room, cellphone to his ear.  His eyes were wide as he caught my attention and silently mouthed, "D.R. C.H.E.N."

"That is absolutely incredible!  What good news!  Dr. Chen, do you believe in God?  Yes, we do.  There have been hundreds of people praying for her.  God is so good!  Here's Mary.  You can explain it to her."

He handed me the phone.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson.  I was looking at Elsabeth's MRI results from Friday.  The giant aneurysm is gone.  I can not see it at all.  There is no more compression in the brain.  As far as I can tell with the distortion from the coils, there is no blood flow either.  The only way to be sure is to do an angiogram like we had scheduled for this Wednesday.  But that has its' risks.  It is very reasonable to wait several years before doing another angiogram.  We can do another MRI in April to compare with this one.  I don't think she is going to need another surgery."

I handed the phone back to Robert stunned.

God had just handed us a miracle.

I met the eyes of my new friend from across the table.  I couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of guilt.  In a matter of moments I went from describing the difficult situation to being delivered, right in front of her eyes.  She still had several days of anxiety ahead of her.  Her adorable little girl was heavy on my heart.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze.  We were free to leave, but elected to wait until the next morning so Robert could finish working remotely.  I kept replaying the events of the last few months in my head:

 Beth's birth, so perfect yet fraught with anxious watching.

The sweet spirit of serenity that surrounded her.

The hasty exodus from Houston, just hours ahead of historic Hurricane Harvey.

The frantic trips to the Emergency Room as RSV overtook her airways. 

The respite of four days in the hospital as she recovered. 

As the season progressed, so did her reflux.  The day before her surgery she soaked through several blankets as she spit up much of what I had fed her.  I feared there was increasing compression of her brain.
 
Then there was the recovery from the surgery.  The reflux disappeared.  Dr. Chen pronounced it a result of the changing pressure in her brain.  The aneurysm was much larger than I had realized.  It hit me once again how very serious her condition was.

Then came the inconsolable crying.  This was not like my calm angel baby.  Something was wrong.  I sent a text to Dr Chen's protege, Dr Jones.  He asked us to come in to the ER immediately.  A second brain scan, overnight stay.

 The relief that all was well.

 Homecoming. 

The tears continued. 

My baby was in pain.

 For two weeks I could do little but hold her.

 And then, like a rainbow after the storm, she smiled!

Now came the holidays, breathless and relentless.  My heart was divided between celebration and preparation.  We were leaving just days into the new year, not knowing for how long or what would be the result.  What would this year bring?

And now . . .
Today . . .
Deliverance!

What a strange sensation.

Yes, God answers prayers.

I believe in miraculous healing.

Or I thought I did.  But when it happens to you, sometimes it's too much.  You need time to let it soak in.  You have to marinate in it a bit before you can begin to taste it.

"O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. 

 O fear the LORD, ye his saints: for there is no want to them that fear him." 

Psalm 34:8-9

We were prepared for the Lord to say no.  After all, He had not allowed us to get the MRI in Tulsa which would have spared us the trip to Houston.  So He must want the surgery to take place.  Whatever He does is good and right.  So we will trust Him.  

But can I believe Him when He says yes?

Lord, I believe!  Help my unbelief . . .

Supper that evening was a jubilant affair.  Dinner was catered, which is always cause for celebration.  Since the ability to store and cook your own food had just been walled off that morning, everyone was keenly aware of the blessings of a hot meal.  The volunteers led a game with special prizes calculated to bring a smile to weary families. 

 Robert and I visit with our friends one last time.  Tito, from Nigeria.  Her smile lights up the room.  Her two year old has never met her father or known a home other than the hospitality houses that they move in and out of, month after weary month.  Immigration laws and medical necessity have converged to keep this family apart and in constant limbo.  It breaks my heart.  Sergei from Russia.  His son is so weak from the chemo, he rarely makes an appearance in the dining room.  Robert and Sergei chat for hours about the New Birth.  Andrea, a warrior mother, awaiting the arrival of her twice born baby.  She is inspired to tell others her story of God's grace in her life.  We give her the name of a local church that has been a blessing to us.  She promises to look it up.

At last, the morning of our departure.  I go down to the dining room to see if there are any cold leftovers I can commandeer for breakfast.  There's pizza again.  I'll take it!  And there is my new friend in the sweeping green dress, covered from head to wrists to ankles.  I tell her how pretty it is.  She looks very dignified.  Again, I eat the pepperoni, her children grab the cheese.  I silently pray over my meal.  She wishes us a happy journey.  My heart catches.  I know what I need to do.  But do I dare?  Will her husband allow it?  I can only ask and leave it in God's hands.

"Before I leave, may I pray with your daughter, Ella?  Do you mind if I pray for God to heal her?"

She smiles at me and nods her head.

I place my hands on 8 year old Ella's shoulders.  She looks up at me with wide, shining eyes.  Maybe she doesn't understand, but I am certain she senses that this is an occasion.  Her father looks up, startled from his breakfast.  Her mother speaks to him rapidly, and reassuringly in their own language. 

"Lord Jesus, thank you for your love.  I pray for this sweet girl and her family.  I pray that you place your hands on her heart and heal her.  May they receive good news at the doctor tomorrow.  And may they know that You are the one who did this.  In JESUS name, Amen!"

Her parents both smile and I exchange hugs with Ella and her mother.  It is likely I will never see them again.  I will probably never know the outcome of that doctor's appointment or her life.  But God knows her.  I pray that He will place other people in her path to water the seed.  

So, if you see a young Muslim family, pray for them. 

 Smile at them. 

 Maybe it's Ella.  Maybe you are the second answer to my prayer.

Maybe that is why God sent us to Houston.