|  And the pain falls like a curtain on the things I once called certain
And I have to say the words I fear the most
I just don't know
It was January 2002 and we were expecting our third child. Signs indicated a difference in this pregnancy. Something had gone wrong. We were sent to Presbyterian/St. Luke's Hospital in Denver; a first of many visits.
And the questions without answers come and paralyze the dancer
So I stand here on the stage afraid to move
Afraid to fall, oh, but fall I must on this truth that my life
Has been formed from the dust.
The amniocentesis confirmed what we feared the most. A baby, our baby had Down syndrome. More tests, more trips to Denver, more tears, and the ground gave way.
God
is God and I am not
I can only see a part of the picture He's
painting
God is God and I am man so I'll never understand it
all
For only God is God
In
the spring of 2002,
Shawna's labor was induced and a dark-headed little girl named
Helen Margaret appeared. She still had Down syndrome. It seems
our prayers went unanswered. But our hearts broke and tears flowed
and she was ours.
And
the sky begins to thunder
Helen
was so lifeless. She needed oxygen, she couldn't eat, a feeding
tube was placed down her nose, she was poked with needles and
still she wasn't
thriving. She was moved to Presbyterian/St. Luke’s Hospital in
Denver and a permanent feeding tube was placed in her stomach.
Heart surgery was scheduled, more needles, x-rays, oxygen. She
was all alone. We were all alone. God where are you? We can't
fix her, help us!
And
I'm filled with awe and wonder
'Til the only burning question that remains
Is who am I?
Our
lives were torn from the normalcy we knew. Hospital walls, floors,
small windows, hand washing, doctors, nurses, and sleepless nights
were our new companions. Days could not be embraced without prayer.
God, oh God, Your strength, Your knowledge, Your blessing be
on us. We can't do it. Words that were so hard to say, so hard
to accept. We can't do it. The future could not be discussed.
Today was the only day that remained.
God
is God and I am not
I can only see a part of the picture He's painting
God is God and I am man so I'll never understand it all
For only God is God
The
world had grown void of all color. The seasons passed with no
changes in our surroundings. Our two boys, Glenn and Seth, stayed
most of the time with family members. We would try to bring them
with us to the hospital but they ended up in the waiting room
or in the game room playing computer games most of the time.
Every day brought some new test, some new problem, some situation
which had to be given to God. It was so overwhelming. Our lives
were ripped from our hands. We had nothing. But we had God.
Can I form a single mountain
Take the stars in hand and count them
Can I even take a breath without God giving it to me
He is first and last before all that has been
Beyond all that will pass
In
July of 2002, Helen was failing. Her airway had shut down;
she was septic and had a temperature of 106. We were prepared
to let her go. In fact, we prayed to be released from this
burden, this little life that was struggling so. Wouldn’t
she be better off with you, Lord? Wouldn’t we be
better off? Helen was trached and for the first time in
her life she could breathe. Her little legs lifted high
in the air and slammed on the hospital bed. That had never
happened before. Helen could hardly move any part of her
body before the trach. Her color deepened. Blood
was carrying oxygen like it should. God is God and I am
not.
And
we prayed.
Our
little girl was placed on CPAP (continuous positive air pressure)
24 hours a day. This bound her to her small 8-by-8-foot bedroom.
This also required 24-hour round-the-clock care in that same
little 8-by-8 room. Days would go by before Glenn or I might
even place a foot outside the front door of our house. We were
wearing our hearts on our sleeve and tears flowed freely. Nights
were divided between Glenn and me. I stayed with Helen four nights
and Glenn stayed three nights. Most nights were spent suctioning,
emptying CPAP tubing of water, figuring out feeding pump malfunctions,
buzzers and beepers and oxygen tanks and pulse oximeters and
a tiny little cot just two feet away from a little dark-haired
girl fighting for her life.
Oh, how great are the riches of His wisdom and knowledge
How unsearchable for to Him and through Him and from
Him are all things
Helen got stronger. She fought many battles, was placed on many antibiotics and medications, and grew. She outgrew her need for CPAP and oxygen. Her muscles got stronger, her hearing got better, and her love for people grew.
So let us worship before the throne
Of the One who is worthy of worship alone
Oh
God, you are God and I am not. Our little girl is a great blessing.
God answered my prayer. It was a prayer for joy in my life and
in my family's life. God brought us to our knees and said, "Take
my hand. I have the joy you need." Helen is a beautiful little
girl with a warm heart and sweet smile. We meet more strangers
on the street, in the grocery store, at Home Depot, etc., because
of a little girl that has a smile and a "Hi" for everyone. I
have seen large, fuzzy men melt at a kiss that is thrown to them
by this little gift of joy.
Helen
loves her brothers dearly. She is happiest when she is in the
middle of them rolling on the floor, or under the covers on their
bed. Her grandparents have a great soft spot in their hearts
for her, as well as all of her aunts and uncles and cousins and
therapists and teachers.
God is God and I am not
I can only see a part of the picture He's painting
The
colors have returned to our Colorado landscape. We are breathing
deeper now and even have begun talking about tomorrow and not
just today. Helen will be starting kindergarten in the fall.
She is an extremely social and engaging child. She is putting
two and three words together verbally and signs quite a bit
as well. She is a great climber and loves to run and jump on
the trampoline. She loves music classes and is quite the tease
with her family. What a gift she is!
O
how great are the riches of His wisdom and knowledge.
|
