Painting by: Kathy Lawrence
Children of Our Heavenly Father
Children of our Heavenly Father,
Safely in His bosom gather,
Nestling bird nor star in heaven,
Such a refuge e're was given.
Neither life nor death shall ever,
From the Lord his children sever,
Unto them his grace he showeth,
And their sorrows all he knoweth.
Though he giveth or he taketh,
God his children ne're forsaketh,
His the loving purpose,
Solely to preserve pure and holy.
--Caroline V. Sandell-Berg
Once again, we found our precious baby Jared in the NICU intensive care unit. He was placed in an isolation unit where he lay on total life support. His condition was so critical that he was put in a drug-induced coma so that his stressed body could rest. He looked so peaceful after having struggled for each breath for the past two days. The only sign of life was his little chest heaving up and down with the rhythm of the ventilator. I was relieved to see him resting so peacefully and petrified that he would never open his big brown beautiful eyes again.
Steve and I approached one of Jared's doctors in the NICU and asked him to be straight-up honest with us. We wanted to know what Jared's chances of survival were at this point. The doctor lowered his eyes to the floor, sighed, and explained that the odds for survival for a cardiac baby with RSV were "less than" 50 percent. He went on to explain that many babies with medical complications did not survive RSV.
Steve and I left the sterile safety of the NICU and plunged into a murky lake of devastation. We understood that cardiac arrest or surgical complications could take Jared away from us, but we certainly were not prepared to lose him to a nasty virus.
We searched for a quiet, undisturbed place in the hospital to pray. We broken-heartedly approached the throne of our Father in heaven and pleaded with Him to somehow let us know if He was going to take our precious son. We were searching for confirmation to help us accept whatever His plan was for our baby. If He was going to take him home, we needed time to prepare ourselves for the loss.
When Steve and I opened our eyes, we looked at each other and both of us had an overwhelming feeling that God was not ready for Jared to join him yet. We felt assured that he would survive the RSV.
We were encouraged and assured in only a way that God can, in a way that is hard to describe in words. We left our quiet place and returned back to the NICU waiting room where we stayed the night to be as close to our son as allowed.
The next morning, Jared's NICU doctor greeted us with a smile. He optimistically informed us that Jared had taken a turn through the night and was "out of the woods" and on the road to recovery.
More to come . . .
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