This is one of a series of chapters from my book about life with our special-needs daughter, Catherine.
Start at the beginning here. Read the previous chapter here.
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My Aunt Jill, a pediatric nurse, giving our 3rd son,
William, his first bath (2004) |
Part 5 - Fearfully and Wonderfully Made
This was only the second time we had been to Nationwide Children’s Hospital in Columbus. The first time had been in 2002 when our oldest, and only child at the time, needed a hernia operation. It was merely a hernia operation but I remember being so scared. Here was my son, my only son, my only child, being wheeled away by strangers who would put him to sleep and cut him open. I was a new parent, I was frightened. I fought back tears as they wheeled him down the hall. I prayed that God would guide the hands of those who were helping him. Much had changed about the hospital in those 6 years. Yet here we were once again walking through those cold, brightly lit halls that had heard so many prayers, seen so many tears, and watched so many children come and go. Most of the children we saw now were either walking or being wheeled on beds, wheel-chairs, or walkers. Our child was still safely within the womb of her mother. She wasn’t hooked to monitors, sensors, or IV lines. She was swimming blissfully in an ocean of love and mercy.
Today we were here for two things; a tour and an echo-cardiogram. A nurse met us in the reception area and gave us a tour of the spots where Catherine would be after her birth. There was never a question of if she may end up here. It was just a question of when. We toured the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) and the ICU (Intensive Care Unit). We saw tiny babies in incubators and parents in pale yellow gowns gently rocking little bundles of pink flesh connected to endless tubes and wires. We saw nurses rushing to and fro, changing diapers, and administering meds and love. Many of the nurses gently rocked babies pouring themselves, their own love, into these fragile, quivering beings made in the image and likeness of God. Today and for many days to come these children were in the image and likeness of the God on the Cross, hanging in the balance between Heaven and Earth, hands, feet, and heads pierced. Yet, with them too, those piercings were life giving.
After the tour we arrived early for the echo-cardiogram. Today we were going to take a look at Catherine’s heart. The machine could only show the physical attributes of that wonderful system of valves. Like the ultrasound, it was too weak of a machine to show the true beauty of the human heart. The doctors, for now there were many involved, had ordered the echo-cardiogram because often children with the markers that Catherine had exhibited also had heart problems. They wanted to know as much as they could about Catherine before she arrived so they could help her in the best way possible. We too wanted to know and at the same time we didn’t.
We knew that there was a problem with her stomach and that would have to be addressed. We knew that she was quickly sliding off of the growth chart, and that was concerning. Did we really need one more thing to worry about. Was our tiny girl going to need multiple surgeries for her stomach and now her heart? Fixing the stomach of a tiny baby seemed like a daunting task in itself but now her heart as well? We wanted to know but were afraid to find out.
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| Echocardiogram Image |
Unlike the ultrasound machine, the echocardiogram was full of color, at least a few colors. This marvel of modern science is able to show blood flow through the heart as well as any defects using high frequency sound waves. The machine also measures oxygenated and deoxygenated blood using blue and red imaging. In my mind, this is how the ultrasound machines should display their findings; brilliant, beautiful, pulsating colors full of life.
Today was April 10th, 2008 and it was also Day 6 of the Novena to Blessed Margaret of Costello. I don’t think I realized it at the time but the prayers of the Novena for this day were perfect for the situation we found ourselves in at the hospital. Here we were sitting in a cold, darkened room hoping to see our daughter’s heart. Hoping to see something good, something positive. Our eyes were trained on the screen, on our daughter’s squirming form. Our hearts were trained on her, our family, each other, and God if we kept him in mind.
How hard it was to keep God in mind! It was as if we’re falling helplessly into a bottomless pit. As we fell we grasped at friends, family, and each other only to have them slip through our fingers. As a last thought, when all others failed, we grasped for God. I do it to this day. Lord, help me to reach to you first. But, perhaps it wasn’t hard to keep God in mind. Maybe our love, concern, and fear were all prayers of a higher sort. They were no longer prayers for this or that, prayers tinged with human selfishness. No, these feelings and emotions were naked open cries for help. The Holy Spirit prayed for us when we couldn’t pray ourselves crying out,
“Abba, father. Father, please help us. Please let this be okay. Please let this cup pass, this test reveal a whole heart free of problems. Father, please...not my will, not our will, but yours be done. Abba. Father.”
Novena to Blessed Margaret of Costello Day 6 -
O Blessed Margaret of Castello, your miseries taught you better than any teacher the weakness and frailty of human nature. Obtain for me the grace to recognize my human limitations and to acknowledge my utter dependence upon God. Acquire for me that abandonment which leaves me completely at the mercy of God to do with me whatsoever He wills. Obtain for me also the special favor which I now ask through your intercession with God.
Let us pray…O God by whose Will the blessed virgin, Margaret, was blind from birth, that the eyes of her mind being inwardly enlightened she might think without ceasing on You alone; be the light of our eyes, that we may be able to flee the shadows in this world and reach the home of never-ending light. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Glorify your servant blessed Margaret, by granting the favor we so ardently desire. This we ask in humble submission to God’s Will, for His Honor and Glory and the salvation of souls.
“Be the light of our eyes….flee the shadows...home of never ending light...weakness and human frailty indeed….”
Abba...Father…
Earlier in the week I shared the coming events with a good friend of mine. She knew that we were stressed, that we were suffering. She also knew how stressful hospitals, doctor’s offices, and waiting rooms could be. She didn’t attempt to console me or tell me to keep a stiff upper lip. Instead, she asked for my sufferings. She begged me to not let my sufferings or stress go to waste. Her prayer was that I would offer my sufferings up for her son, who was studying to become a doctor and work in the very hospital where Catherine would spend so much time over the coming years.
How funny God is! In the midst of all that was going on, this woman asked for the one thing I had, we had, in abundance; suffering. The beauty of the Christian faith, I think, lies in the fact that everything can be offered to God as a prayer, even suffering. No, maybe especially suffering. If Jesus taught us nothing else he taught us that there is power in suffering. If it is endured patiently, willingly, and offered back to God as a sacrifice of praise, even the smallest suffering can be extremely powerful. Yet, sadly, it’s easier said than done. I promised, as best I could, to remember to offer up to God my suffering - waiting rooms especially - for her son and his calling.
“I’m having a hard time getting a good position,” said the nurse a little frustrated.
“She’s just squirming all over the place.”
We choked back tears and gave a little laugh. We watched as red and blue colors raced across the screen and disappeared. There it was, in living color, the heart of our daughter. Although I was not a trained physician, even I could tell something strange was going on. The heart was beating rhythmically. Blue and red blood rushed in and out of the heart. Yet every so often the heart would pulse or jump. The blue and red appeared to mix and then just as quickly all went back to normal. Nicole and I both saw it. She knew exactly what was going on deep in her womb, deep beneath flesh and fluid, blood and water, deep in the tiny heart of the tiny baby so many other hearts and minds were praying for at that very moment. The nurse saw and understood. Nicole saw, felt, and understood. I was an outsider, a guilty bystander in a world of women. A stranger among nurses who communicated with smiles, nods, and knowing glances.
“What’s going on,” I thought to myself or maybe I screamed it.
What are you two talking about without saying a word. What’s wrong? Why is her heart doing that? Is the room getting darker, colder? When was the last time I breathed? Is there a silence button for all of this whirring of machines and in my head. Ladies, what in the world is happening?"
“Looks like little Catherine has the hiccups,” said the nurse with a chuckle.
I released my grip on Nicole’s hand and hoped I hadn’t broken any bones.
The nurse continued to scan Catherine’s heart and record the exploration.
“Everything looks great. I’ll have the doctor take a look at the imaging too but I don’t see any issues. Everything is operating as it should. Looks like a strong healthy heart your little girl has there. Did you know that it’s about the size of a grape right now, smaller than your thumb,” she concluded as she shut down the
machine.
A grape? There’s no way it could be that small! That enormous, beautiful, quickly beating heart was only the size of a grape? How could that be? Within it was my heart, Nicole’s heart, the hearts of her grandparents, siblings, and strangers. How could so tiny a heart hold so many other hearts?
“Fearfully and wonderfully made, right?” said the nurse with a smile as she wiped the ultrasound gel from Nicole’s belly.
“Come on out when you're ready.”
Fearfully and wonderfully made indeed! A grape...Abba, father, thank you…..
Read the next chapter,
Glimpses of God, here.
Click here to read more from James M. Hahn -
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