Peace in the Midst of a Storm

There are moments which we all wish we could erase from our memories. We don't speak of them much because they bring to light a series of emotions that we still struggle to control. Even if these dark moments conclude in a miraculous outcome, as ours did, the preceding events may seem too much to bear.

January 18th of last year my 7 month old baby girl was fighting for her life. A simple virus allowed the Trojan horse of staph to invade our little girl. Rowynn had a fairly acute case of croup as we were visiting some friends of ours in Tennessee; she had croup before, but this was different. We took her to Children’s Hospital of Chattanooga where she was given a breathing treatment and a dose of a steroid which initially resolved our worry. We were so relieved that she was feeling and breathing better. Before being discharged from the hospital, the doctor mentioned to my husband and I that if Rowynn were to develop a persistent high fever, then we were to bring her straight to the emergency room—croup is known to initiate pneumonia. Honestly, that was the least of my worries. It seemed like a worst-case scenario that could never happen.

A few days later, my husband Sean and I made a decision to spend the weekend with family in Georgia before heading home to New Jersey. Early Sunday morning we were readying ourselves for church when Sean walked out to our car to grab some belongings. He found that our car had caught on fire during the night, and that our vehicle had been totaled. He came inside and laughingly (as is our way) told me about our car. I too laughed to myself; simply because it seemed so bizarre! After the morning church service, I sat at the dinner table with our family as Sean took care of the car insurance and loaner rental. I watched and smiled as Rowynn was enjoying playing with all of her cousins. I was relieved to think that my happy baby had beaten croup. We soon departed for the evening church service and I hesitantly placed my sleepy daughter in nursery. At the close of the service, I made my way to the church nursery to pick up Rowynn. When I saw that she had slept through her nursery stay, a feeling of fear leaped inside me. As I felt her head, I could tell that it was unbelievably hot. We abruptly left the church property to retrieve a thermometer. When I took her temperature, I pulled the thermometer from her when it read 105 degrees; I simply did not want to waste time to see how high it would get. Her little body felt lifeless; her breathing was labored; her coloring was pale and purpled. These were all the things that the doctor back in Chattanooga had described in his worst-case scenario.

We rushed her to the nearest hospital only to have a doctor tell us that she just had a virus and that it wasn't a "big deal". We mentioned that she recently had croup and that we thought this sudden turn for the worse was pneumonia. He not only laughed at this fear, but refused to listen to her chest for fluid. We were denied x-rays, and discharged to leave with the instructions to follow-up with her pediatrician in New Jersey. We so wanted to trust this doctor, but every iota of intuition was screaming for another opinion. I remember crying as we drove back to our family’s home. Our baby was clearly in trouble. I held her close as her neck would sink-in with each labored breath. Having been berated by the doctor, I began to pray: “Lord please give my husband wisdom; give him the courage to do what is best.” As I paused in my open-ended prayer, Sean said, “We’re going back to the hospital.”

As we arrived, we were met by the same nurse who had initially evaluated Rowynn before. She asked why were again at the entrance of the triage. Sean and I nervously answered that we just did not feel right with the discharge. The nurse’s mouth gaped and she informed us that earlier that night she had instantly known that Rowynn had pneumonia. We were filled with emotion as she told us that she marked this assessment on Rowynn’s chart, and figured that her empty room indicated that she had been admitted to the hospital. My emotions poured out. It was indeed the Holy Spirit of God taking away our peace that evening; it was His moving that caused us to drive back to the hospital; it was our prayers that God was hearing.

The night hours soon broke to daylight. A different doctor quickly diagnosed Rowynn with pneumonia. After this doctor saw an x-ray of Rowynn’s lungs, she called on an ambulance to transfer her to Children's Hospital of Atlanta. My husband held me and we wept as we watched our tiny infant strapped to a stretcher and placed out of our reach in the rear of the ambulance. I was not allowed to stay with her, but was allowed to ride in the front of the vehicle. The thirty-minute ride seemed endless as I peered through a small glass opening to watch my baby. I knew Rowynn was struggling. This knowledge was only aggrandized as the EMT would say, “She is going to be okay.” I felt helpless, but God was helping me; I felt powerless, but, God was giving me strength; I felt weak, but God was picking me up.

As we arrived at the hospital, doctors immediately began treatments of intravenous antibiotics on Rowynn. I can remember sitting in the emergency room at CHOA, still not prepared for the moments ahead, and actually feeling the trivial concern for how many times she had already been poked and examined. Were all these needles really necessary? A new doctor came in to evaluate Rowynn when he suddenly realized that the x-ray the staff were basing their relaxed treatment upon was not the correct x-ray. The previous hospital had sent over a different patients x-ray as Rowynn’s. The doctors had already assessed and begun treatment to Rowynn from the condition of this random individual’s x-ray. As new chest x-rays were again taken of Rowynn, her eyes closed and she became very still. I wanted to think she was just exhausted, but as the doctor soon found, her percentage of usable lung was bleak. They immediately made the decision to admit Rowynn to the ICU with what we soon found out was infant staff pneumonia. Test results flooded in. We were told that our baby’s immune system was at a zero and that the staff infection was quite literally eating away at her lungs. As they moved her to the ICU, Sean and I were not allowed to go with her. They told us that Rowynn was not quite stable and that it about 30 minutes she would be prepped and stable. Thirty minutes roughly turned into two and a half hours. We sat as horrified outside the ICU doors as we heard alarms for “code blue” and gathered that it was most likely for our daughter.

As we reunited with our baby, we found her attached to complicated breathing machines and a plethora of IVs. The ICU doctor asked us to sit as he informed us that Rowynn’s condition was dismal. I can picture his face as he said, “If she gets better,” and, “If we find a correct antibiotic.” We were stunned, but I can honestly say that my husband and I had an undeniable peace as news only worsened. Infectious disease doctors began the task of trying to discover the correct antibiotic for this bacteria. Rowynn was unable to open her eyes, unable to move, and unable to cry, but we knew that this situation was bigger than our fear. There was a higher authority guiding the intricacies of Rowynn’s case.

Things were quite uncertain. There were many instances during those early days when the doctors would hint that Rowynn could not defeat this infection. They were correct. Indeed, Rowynn could not defeat this bacteria; and the doctors would not find a correct approach, if God was not with us. I cannot quite describe the feeling of having a doctor tell you that he is unsure if your child will live; however, I also cannot quite describe the feeling of comfort that is present to the believer during these times. Throughout Rowynn’s acute illness there were more tense moments than there were straightforward; but it was during these lull moments that I could step aside and know that God was not taken by surprise, and that He was in control.

Praise the Lord that Rowynn was healed! My husband and I know that our battle was more than just flesh and blood. There was a spiritual attack that started on our monetary possessions, and climaxed with our most-precious. I cannot imagine where things would have gone without the Lord taking care of Rowynn. He orchestrated every note during those three weeks, and turned the devils snares into a beautiful symphony. He never left Rowynn. He never left my husband. He never left me. Alone is a word that the Lord took from my view-- never was I alone. To the people around the world who prayed for our girl: I'm so glad I'm a part of the family of God! Through our prayers and yours, there was a complete peace that the Lord gave. You may wonder how Rowynn is today. She is a healthy and strong little girl who will soon celebrate her second birthday in May. Praise the Lord that we as Christians don’t have to go through the trials and struggles of life alone. We have the Lord; we have each other; and we have a calming peace that only the He can give. Have you felt His peace? I assure you, it is overwhelming.

#storm #peace