“The lab just called me. Your son’s lab work isn’t looking too good and we need to get him on a stronger dose of antibiotics immediately.” He went on to explain how this fancy machine would slowly administer a continuous stream of antibiotics into my 9-month old baby boy’s body. He explained the implications of what this all meant but I didn’t hear any of it. My head was spinning. They all filed out of the room leaving me alone to process it all. The doctor’s words kept flying through my mind: lab results, antibiotics, meningitis, septicemia, fatal.
This was it. After 9 months of advocating and fighting for my son, Cooper, I was now being told there was nothing I could do for him besides pray the antibiotics would work. As a mom, I had never felt so utterly helpless in my life. I wanted to curl up in a ball and sob and cover my ears and scream and hide. I wanted to wave the white flag, throw in the towel, quit. But any mother who’s ever survived experiences like these knows that isn’t an option. Your child needs you so you remain strong and fight the tears and the fears.
I sat there staring at my son as he fought for his life in that stainless steel hospital crib. I saw his battle for life flash by in an instant. You see, I’ve had to fight for my precious Cooper from the moment I knew he was in my womb. My pregnancy was a rough one and so was the delivery. Within the first few weeks of his life I knew there were some issues and so the fights began. It started with a condition with his stomach. He was projectile vomiting so I was told repeatedly it was viral, it was colic, it was an allergy. My gut told me otherwise and we headed to the hospital, hoping for more experienced doctors. We were admitted and he underwent surgery within 12 hours. Next up came hydrocephalus. I told the doctor at multiple visits that I was concerned about the growth, shape, and size of Cooper’s head. I received the “You’re just a worried mom” speech. Three months of advocating later, Cooper was diagnosed by a neurosurgeon with hydrocephalus. Then came the breathing issues. You could hear Cooper’s rattling wheezes at the other end of the house. This was a much harder battle to fight. After seeing 7 different pediatricians who all said it was a simple viral infection and 1 respiratory therapist and 2 emergency room visits for respiratory distress, Cooper was finally diagnosed with three different congenital respiratory conditions. As a result of these, Cooper was constantly sick with one illness after another. Along with many other medical issues, I, as well as Cooper’s doctors, quickly discovered that Cooper was the exception to the rule. One of his doctors said, “With Cooper I know if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably an elephant!”
I realized as I watched him sleep that night that he had never made it longer than two weeks without an illness, each one of them requiring medical intervention. Was this really it? Surely there was another expert I could call on! Surely we should double-check his lab work? Do more tests? For the first time in his short life, I had no plan of attack. No other doctor to turn to. He had the best of the best. There was absolutely nothing else I could do besides sing, “You are my sunshine” for the 5,023rd time and comfort him.
Several hours later, Cooper started to fade and he was transferred to the PICU at Arkansas Children’s Hospital where he underwent a spinal tap and many other procedures and tests. Thankfully, the antibiotics began to take affect and within a few days, we headed home with a happy, healthy boy.
Even now, 8 months later, I’m still fighting for him. Cooper’s speech is delayed and it’s obvious that something isn’t clicking the way it should. I continually receive comments such as, “Oh it will come, give it time” and “All children develop at different rates” and my personal favorite, “I wouldn’t worry about it.” These were the exact same comments I received when I was fighting for his respiratory diagnoses, which eventually caused him to fight for his life in the PICU. If I had given it time or chosen not to worry about it, Cooper wouldn’t be alive today, charming everyone he meets!
But here’s the thing. No one knows Cooper better than I. As mothers, we are given a God-given gift of maternal instinct. On a daily basis the Holy Spirit whispers to my heart truths about my son. There are times when family and doctors are concerned about something but I have complete peace. The Holy Spirit calms me and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it isn’t a big deal. Other times, when everyone around me is saying it’s no big deal, my heart knows otherwise. And that’s when I fight.
I fight until I wear myself out and then I fight some more!
It is this maternal instinct that saved my son’s life over and over and over again. I had to fight for him constantly and I’m sure the journey has only begun! I had to battle doctors who have spent half their lives studying the human body when I myself know precious little in comparison. The only knowledge I bring to the table is that which the Holy Spirit provides. I have had to battle my own family members who have argued with me to respect the doctors’ observations and listen to them. I’ve had to battle friends who have accused me of being overly worrisome and dramatic. It’s been an exhausting, and at times, lonely journey. But it’s all been worth it! At this exact moment, my baby boy is sleeping in his crib. He was cleared last month from his neurosurgeon with no further signs of hydrocephalus and no further need for treatment. He has tested out of two of his four therapies. He breathes clearly the vast majority of the time. He has no residual issues from the meningitis, H1N1, or RSV. He’s alive and healthy.
That night in the hospital room, even as I sang “You are my Sunshine” and felt such a strong sense of panic because I no longer had any other course of action to try to save my son, I realize now that I did everything within my power. All of the fighting I did leading up to that night is what saved his life. If I had backed down and listened to all the naysayers and even the doctors who patronized me, Cooper would have been too weak to fight as hard as he had to in order to overcome such a brutal onslaught of infections.
So fellow moms, I leave you with this: Allow the Lord to guide your heart as a mother. If you find yourself in a situation where you know something isn’t right, push aside all criticisms, all observations, all advice, and trust what He is telling you. Seek second, third, fourth, twentieth opinions. Don’t give up until you have a peaceful, calm heart about the situation. Even the doctors are only humans and no one knows your child better than you do. In this world where everyone has an opinion and everyone is an expert you have to filter through it all and determine what is best for your child. Siphon out those who criticize or judge. Surround yourself with true prayer warriors who have faithfully demonstrated their love for your child and for you. But most of all, trust your gut!
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