It was only 6 years ago that I sat anxiously waiting to hear the results of my husband's first, of many, life changing surgeries. I was 4 months pregnant at the time with my little girl. My husband, who was only 35 years old at the time, had been sick for 5 weeks, misdiagnosed 4 times and was literally near death before we finally saw a surgeon who realized that his body was being ravaged by the flesh eating disease, Necrotizing Fasciitis.
Of course my emotions were all over the place since I was expecting my daughter Emelia. I had been nursing my husband for the last several weeks, seeing him deteriorate and not getting any answers from multiple appointments with varying Doctors and at the same time taking care of my 2 year old son and filling in for my husband in his position at our church. I was a wreck. And I was angry. I was SO MAD at God that my husband was so ill and that I might lose him and be left alone to raise my son & my soon to be born daughter. I was livid with Him that He would give me a gift (my baby girl to be born) & be taking away my husband at the same time. It was devastating to even think of it.
But over the next 2 months and multiple surgeries, my husband began to slowly recover. His life was preserved; he was able to come home and build his strength back up and become a father to our little girl. In the years since, he has had several additional infections including MRSA, a total of 16 surgeries (including the amputation of both his great toes), and multiple complications that have become a normal part of our daily lives.
My little girl is now 5 1/2 going on 32 years old. She is full of sass and has a hilarious sense of humor and perfect timing for her witty remarks. She is full of energy, high maintenance, and exhausting. She also has eczema and asthma and we cannot seem to control her scratching or itching no matter what prescription lotions or treatments we try (please don't suggest anything, we've literally seen, heard & done IT ALL). And just a few weeks ago, we were in the hospital, anxiously waiting at 4:30 a.m. in the Family Holding room for her Dr to let us know how the surgery went.
Of course my emotions were all over the place since I was expecting my daughter Emelia. I had been nursing my husband for the last several weeks, seeing him deteriorate and not getting any answers from multiple appointments with varying Doctors and at the same time taking care of my 2 year old son and filling in for my husband in his position at our church. I was a wreck. And I was angry. I was SO MAD at God that my husband was so ill and that I might lose him and be left alone to raise my son & my soon to be born daughter. I was livid with Him that He would give me a gift (my baby girl to be born) & be taking away my husband at the same time. It was devastating to even think of it.
But over the next 2 months and multiple surgeries, my husband began to slowly recover. His life was preserved; he was able to come home and build his strength back up and become a father to our little girl. In the years since, he has had several additional infections including MRSA, a total of 16 surgeries (including the amputation of both his great toes), and multiple complications that have become a normal part of our daily lives.
My little girl is now 5 1/2 going on 32 years old. She is full of sass and has a hilarious sense of humor and perfect timing for her witty remarks. She is full of energy, high maintenance, and exhausting. She also has eczema and asthma and we cannot seem to control her scratching or itching no matter what prescription lotions or treatments we try (please don't suggest anything, we've literally seen, heard & done IT ALL). And just a few weeks ago, we were in the hospital, anxiously waiting at 4:30 a.m. in the Family Holding room for her Dr to let us know how the surgery went.
In those moments I found my mind back in that first consult room 6 years earlier, waiting for my husband's surgeon to come out and tell me if we had waited any longer my husband would have been dead and that he wasn't out of the woods yet. I was terrified when he told me that. But it didn’t even BEGIN to compare with the horror I felt inside at the thought of my daughter having to endure surgeries comparative to what my husband had gone through. After that moment of flashing back, I informed God that if He took me through all of that back then just to lose my daughter now, I was going to be SO MAD at Him!
Of course, she is fine. Of course, it was just one finger infected, not an entire limb. Of course, I WAS overreacting to the situation. Of course, the Doctor is the best hand surgeon in the area and absolutely knows what he is doing. Of course, the anesthesiologist has had years of experience dealing with people that have eaten only a few short hours before an emergency surgery. And yet as the time crept by I became more anxious. Maybe it’s because I know what can happen; I’ve seen ugly infection and ugly results.
And I know, I KNOW that anyone can analytically reason things out that we came to the hospital at the perfect hour to have the perfect Doctor operate at the pivotal time for my daughter. Anyone can mock my faith and my beliefs and my practices and my values. Anyone can say whatever they want to, but I know what truth is. And truth is that God prepared us for that moment. We knew what signs to look for: the swelling, discoloration and streaking. We knew because we had been through that with my husband’s infections numerous times. He prepared us by giving us the knowledge through my husband’s experiences. He designated that Doctor to be available to operate on my daughter. And now, her finger is fine, her hand is fine and the scars are barely visible.
There are people out there that will attribute my daughter’s recovery to the Doctor’s aggressive response to infection. There are people that will say it’s due to the Doctor’s training, our wisdom and coincidences of time/place/convenience. But I know that my sovereign God intervened on our behalf. And although I am thankful for the Doctor and the education he received to enable him to give my daughter the appropriate care, I am more so thankful to my God for keeping His hand on my daughter’s life, for ordaining each moment and each step of our lives. I am thankful for great medical care and we followed through (as always) on the Doctor’s advice, but ultimately it is to God I give the glory of keeping my precious baby girl safe and sound and healed.
And to those that disagree, I respect your opinion and I value your input, but in times like these we will just have to agree to disagree.
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