Godstoppedby

Monday, May 11, 2020

The Beginning of Hard Times

Adam was born on December 19, 1989. He turned 30 on his last birthday, and it's still hard to believe he's this age.He was a beautiful little boy with a full head of dark brown hair. 6lbs. 11 ounces. Tiny and perfect to all of us. He was two weeks early, and as far as we know, he had no health issues. But...he could not nurse because he kept his tongue firmly pressed against the roof of his mouth. The nurse told his mom, my daughter Jodi and me not to worry, but I knew something was not right, as he could not latch on. For the first few weeks we had to break the suction in order to get the nipple of his bottle into his mouth. I have often thought back over this, and wondered if this was an undiagnosed sensory issue. We never got to deal with this with the pediatrician, because he got sick when he was 4 1/2 weeks old. To keep this story brief, he had two visits to the doctor's office, and calls back and forth over the next couple of days. 
One evening while Jodi was feeding him, his left leg began to twitch, and I told her to shift him to see if that would stop. It didn't. The tremor quickly continued up the left side of his body. His temperature had dropped to 94.6. And off to Stony Brook we went. By the time we got there, he was one step above coma. Through hours of exams and tests, it was determined the he had meningitis and sepsis. Group B strep. This can and often does kill. He was admitted to the PICU. And the nightmare had just started. He seized for three hours the following morning. They finally got them under control with a full dose of Ativan, after many other drugs failed. (Detail for medical friends) He was there for 5 days.
We attended an Episcopal church at that time and I called for one of the priests to come and anoint and pray for him. I had been praying for him for days before he was admitted. His symptoms went up and down.....I heard the enemy hiss the word "meningitis" one of those long nights. I told the priest that I wasn't crazy, and to please pray to break this assault against him. He agreed, and he did. And he anointed Adam head to toe. 
After we were released from the PICU to the regular pediatric floor, my husband bumped into one of the nurses who had taken such excellent care of him. She was thrilled at how well he was doing, and told my husband that they never expected Adam to make it past the first night; they were sure he would die.
When we went home 2 1/2 weeks after being admitted, and I called the pediatrician's office to set up an after care appointment, I heard the receptionist excitedly telling everyone, "The miracle baby's mom is on the phone! The miracle baby's mom is on the phone!" 
As hard as this had all been, God is good. He saved Adam's life. There are many, many stories that are interwoven with this one; I'll tell some tomorrow. 
Adam IS a miracle. And he's had a few more. We'll get there. Well, I will. It's up to you if you will. But I hope you do.


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