Wednesday, May 9, 2012

children shouldn't die.

i've always been a optimist of sorts.  i can spew rainbows and sunshine on most situations.  jason is not.  and at some point after being here for a while the rainbows and sunshine were gone.  my text messages contained explicit language about how everything seems to be going wrong.  and jason would respond with words of comfort and encouragement.  i was both thankful and very annoyed at the same time.
i hit a breaking point around the six week mark, and things have only gotten better from there.  i am seeing a little more clearly.  we are making progress.  it's looking like there is a possibility of one day going home (no we don't know when, or even have a projection of possibility).
shilo is on a nasal canula, has all of her extra lines and tubes out, leaving her with only her picc line, ng tube, oxygen, and the little monitoring probes.  i can hold her as often as i want. i can dance with her again, singing songs over her (even if she can't hear them) and watching her content smiles as she sleeps in my arms.  she still has a few more hurdles to get out of the icu, and then we will be in the heart center for a little bit as well.
but there's this really ugly side to being in the icu.  most of the kids here are critical.  in the span of the 11 weeks of being here, there have been four children that i have been in the vicinity of that have passed away.  i have heard the families grieving, watched people filing in and out to say goodbyes.  and it has messed with my emotions.  and right now, the children on both sides of our room are not going to live.  in no way i'm i trying to say that hearing all of this is somehow harder for me than for their families.  however, each day i sit here, my heart and soul cry out that it can't handle much more.  i know we live in a fallen and imperfect world.  and i know that daily, all around the world, children die.  but the more i experience it, the more i want to proclaim loudly 'children shouldn't die.'
the declaration would be one that should have the back up of being a word that is spoken and it is so.  children shouldn't get cancer, they shouldn't be so distraught about life that they take their own life, they shouldn't need heart surgeries, or brain surgeries, nor should they ever, ever, be abused.

after being here for so long, many people keep telling me i would be a great in the medical field.  and while there may be some truth to that, there is no way i could work here week in, and week out, and not be crushed with the pain that surrounds me. so tonight, i pray for the families here, and all around the world saying their goodbyes to the beautiful little people who should have much more life ahead. and i loudly say thank you Lord for the two littles we have.  they have experienced more than children should have to, but they are here.  and i can hold them, and kiss them.  and that is so much more than some families have.

1 comment:

  1. I think it's fair I say you are in the medical field now. You're wrestling through a lot of the struggles David has as a doctor. This challenging time is certainly drawing you closer to the Lord- and what a beautiful (unfortunate) opportunity that you can cry out to your Abba on behalf of these children and their families- and I will pray that because of your presence they will hear the gospel and choose Christ as ther Savior. Keep fighting for that little girl- fighting to believe truth- and fighting the many struggles of life in a hospital.