continued from When God Parted Our Red Sea (Part 2)
The next day (Wednesday), we brought you to Asian for an available anesthesiologist to check you. The anesthesiologist who checked you was so very nice (too bad I forgot her name! I’ll try to check who she is). She looked so gentle and compassionate. She cleared you and asked why you were to undergo an MRI. She told me, “Pray lang kayo.” Again, I felt God’s presence in her. She even praised your nose, “Grabe ang tangos ng ilong!” she said.
Feb. 3, 2012
That Wednesday night (Feb. 2, 2011), you slept beside your Yaya Michelle (she was your first long-term yaya–she was a gem! Too bad she had to leave to care for her own children) and Ate Alona. This was because your Tatay and I had to sleep well, for we will have to wake up early to bring you to Asian. Still, I kept getting out of our room to check on you…I can’t sleep fitfully without you by my side. Moreover, I had to make sure that your last feeding would be four hours away from your scheduled sedation (I pumped my breastmilk).
At 1 a.m. on Feb. 3, 2011, I rose and checked on you. You underfed yourself–you didn’t finish your normal bottle, and this was supposed to be your last feeding! This had me worried: ever since you were born, you’ve always had a voracious appetite! Infants are supposed to feed every 3-4 hours, right? But in your case, you start wailing for your milk less than two hours after your last bottle, begging to be fed. You were such a pleasant baby, but when you’re hungry, all hell broke loose! You cry loudly and start kicking! Thus I was worried, because that was supposed to be your last feeding, yet for some reason you did not finish it!
At around 4 a.m., we roused you from sleep. I was so nervous waking you up, because when you wake up you usually ask for your milk. We tried to feed you water (which was OK up to two hours prior to the sedation), but you refused. To add insult to the injury, the onesie I prepared for you to wear was already tight (it was the first and last time you were able to wear it), and we had trouble putting it on you. I was panicking that you would be irritable, especially because you were supposed to be very hungry…but you were not! I started to be amazed…little miracles were already taking place!
In the car on our way to Alabang, you fell asleep immediately. I heaved another sigh of relief because that would mean you won’t ask for milk. I thought I’d have a hard time watching you cry out of hunger (I had already braced myself for that heartbreaking scene), but I just had a pleasant time listening to Don Moen’s praise and worship songs and your soft snore.
When we arrived at the Asian Hospital and you woke up, I was afraid again that you would start crying. Again you did not! You, Tatay, and I were all calm and collected until you were brought to the room where you were to be sedated. But when your mittens were removed and the doctor started looking for a vein where the needle from the dextrose will enter, I started to well up and choke a cry. Your hands were so tiny that the dextrose needle looked gigantic next to them. When you were pricked by the needle and started crying, my first tear fell. I uttered a silent prayer—similar to what Tita Li’Anne told me: Please be upon all the doctors and equipment who and that will touch you. Lord, give the doctors and nurses the wisdom to do the right thing (in case you’re wondering why the sedation was such a big deal, it’s because infant sedation is delicate and may be fatal).
Then we were asked to leave as you were being prepped to be MRIed, and to stay at the waiting area. To distract myself, I volunteered to take care of paying the bills. After finishing, I rejoined your Tatay at the waiting area. In my imagination, I thought the waiting time would be dreadful and that I would cry and cry. But another amazing thing happened: I was very calm. Your Tatay and I even managed to talk about trivial stuff, and I even went to the cafeteria to have breakfast. I was that calm to have even been able to think of food. The thoughts running in my head were that God is powerful, faith can move mountains…and if the MRI still shows you have encephalocele/meningocele, I would just spend time with God praying again. Surprisingly, I was calm even thinking about that. I think this is what’s called total surrender to God–trusting Him despite and in spite of whatever. Honestly though, I really felt that your MRI will show you don’t have it.
At around 10 a.m., we were paged and were told that you’re done with your MRI. We rushed to you and saw you sleeping on a hospital cot being wheeled out, with tubes on your arms and an oxygen mask that is too big for your small, one-month-old face. I wanted to cry again when I took notice of the largeness of the cot for you…you’re way too small and young to have undergone this! See? Everything was too small for you! I guess this was why, when were told only one parent may be with you in the recovery room, I told your Tatay he should do it. I again distracted myself with paying more bills. I just instructed your Tatay to ring me when you’re already up and hungry so I could breastfeed you.
After about 20 minutes, I went to the recovery area because I wanted to be the one to look after you and your vital signs. By that time, your signs were already strong. In fact, you were already crying for my milk when I entered. Wow, you lasted THAT long without milk! I fed you and then you fell asleep again, then we were told we can already go. Tatay was waiting for us outside. As soon as we stepped out, he got you from me, and then you slumped on to his shoulders. He shook you lightly, but you were still pliable and not waking up. Tatay panicked, and talked to the anesthesiologist. You were returned to the recovery room and the machine that measure vital signs was again attached to you. Meanwhile, your Tatay was pacing outside, panicking. Inside the recovery room, the machine showed that your vitals were doing great (Thank God!) We were told you were fine, but still groggy from the anesthesia thus the slump. Also, that your results will be available at around 1 p.m.
Tatay and I went to Alabang Town Center to have lunch. We also bought you a toy at Rustan’s. After killing time there, we returned to the Asian Hospital. It took us about 30 minutes just searching for parking space! And the parking space we got was meters and meters and meters away from the hospital. It was your Tatay who went there to get the results, and you were left with me in the car. I was dreading and anticipating the results. We waited and waited and waited. Your Tatay was taking so long that I began to get worried. I cannot contact him because my Nokia cellphone at that time was damaged–it cannot stay on for even a minute, especially when in active use. After a long time of waiting, your Tatay finally arrived. I cannot read the expression on his face, and I got nervous. He told me that the reason why he took so long was because he couldn’t understand what the MRI result meant (he had an idea but wanted to be sure), as it was not written in layman’s terms.
Thus, he wasn’t able to help himself from seeking a neurologist’s explanation. He actually enlisted himself and waited for a neurologist to entertain him and explain what your MRI result means. And according to the neuro…you had NO ENCEPHALOCELE or MENINGOCELE! Your lump was just a lump! Tatay clarified this over and over that the neurologist even got annoyed that he didn’t believe there was nothing wrong with you!
Upon hearing this, I uttered a word of thanks to the Lord. But honestly, I wasn’t surprised. I’ve been expecting it. Raviv, praise God! I was not just hallucinating when I felt being comforted by Him–He really was there. And He is there with you now.
The reason I wrote this last installment on Feb. 3, 2012 is because this miracle happened on the same day last year. I am very grateful for this trial as it brought my relationship with God to the next level. Instead of thinking God doesn’t love me for bringing me this trial, the opposite happened.
When I was young, I used to think that the Israelites (Moses circa) were so stupid for losing faith in God despite the miracles He has shown them, particularly the parting of the Red Sea. I told myself that if I were given similar miracles, I’ll forever trust God’s mercy and power. And He did–He parted our Red Sea and every time I am discouraged, I remember His power and mercy and love through my bouncing baby boy.
Tell me what you think!
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