While this past month I have been doing much better with reigning in my thoughts and emotions about Joseph's surgery this Monday and all that is to follow, I'm slipping a little these past several nights. I can't sleep. Nights are tricky to reign in those fears and what if's, and I find myself after 2:30 in the morning still awake. So I guess I'll type. I'll go back through these past few weeks and hopefully get back to the truth I do know, the perspective I have been given to help me leave my fears of the unknown to the One who does know. What does that Casting Crowns song say, the one that I love so much? "You're already there." Yes, that's the one. He's already there. Lord, please help me find rest in that tonight.
So Joseph had his one-month check-up almost two weeks ago. He's healthy, he's growing. He's going to be tall, Dr. Ortiz says, quite possibly my tallest one, she says. He is growing in height, he is growing in weight. Oh yeah, and the cataract is growing, too. Bummer. And so the answer is still the same, and surgery is now just hours away. But his one-month check was different from the visit before--the "diagnosis" visit. My emotions were different in handling the news. While my baby may still be blind in his left eye, I had begun to see. So tonight, I'm taking myself back to find the "big picture" again, so I can remember what I have been feeling so many days of this waiting time...that we are blessed, that while my little guy is physically blind in one eye there are many worse things than that, that if the Lord hasn't removed this issue it's because He has something good and better in walking with us through it.
When the doctor told us while we were in the hospital having just delivered Joseph that she saw something she wanted to check further in the office, I really didn't think much of it. It wasn't until we went to the pediatrician's office a couple of days later, then immediately to Children's Hospital right after, that I understood that there really was a problem. My baby was blind in one of his eyes, and there really wasn't a quick fix. I was very overwhelmed that day, buried in my post partum emotions over all of it. But something struck me at Children's that I wasn't able to process until later. This was the first time I had been to Children's Hospital with one of my children by appointment. Every other time we have gone through the emergency room. A couple of times, those were pretty dramatic events with the whole nine yards--ambulance rides, life and death drama, trauma teams trying to set IV's. But this was different. This time I had to sit in a waiting room with other parents and other children. These were children who had long term issues that were more than a broken arm or a high fever. I glanced up, but I couldn't look at them. I was so overwhelmed with everything that I knew my heart would break over and over if I looked into the face of the little girl who was fully blind, or the children with other chronic issues--needing their eyes dealt with as just one of their struggles. I was reminded of a high school cheerleading friend I had just connected with at my class reunion where we just scratched the surface of her little guy's scary heart issues. I thought back to friends we had sat with years ago in this same hospital as their one-year-old battled (and won!) a horrible childhood cancer. Yep, Joseph was blind in one eye. Blind in one eye. That was it...a fluke thing, she said. And while my grief that day seemed so big, I began to feel so small. Some parents, in fact, most in that place on that day, have to shoulder so much more. And so walking out to the parking garage, my heart broke--for us--for them. I headed back to our sweet little (okay, big) family in our comfortable house where my mom was visiting and ready with a warm meal. And I couldn't stop thinking about the parents who were still there, agonizing over their sick children, sleeping countless nights in a bedside chair and eating cafeteria food for days, just hoping that everything would be okay.
So that should be it, right? The end of my needing perspective? That was definitely worse than what little Joseph will have to deal with the next couple of years. But no. That wasn't it. My sister decided to call from the other side of the world. She wanted to pray for us, encourage us, grieve with us. She told me that she had been thinking a lot about the story I shared earlier of the blind man because she was getting to know a family in her part of the world that had an 11-month old girl who was totally blind. She was praying for both Joseph and this baby girl, asking for a miracle. So we talked some more, Joseph's care, Joseph's patching, Joseph's baby contact, Joseph's surgeries. Oh, and by the way, sweet sister, that baby girl you mentioned, the one who is blind? Why? And does she have medical care? (after remembering that my sister serves the poorest of the poor where those poor have no rights, let alone decent medical care) Well, she sees a doctor, she said. But there is no diagnosis. And the blindness is just one issue. She can't crawl, she can't lift her head, she might be deaf. She offered to send me a picture. Yes, I said, I want to see her, I want to pray for her. And so, my heart broke again.
The next week, I couldn't stop thinking about this baby. She really doesn't have good care. She was born into a poor family. There isn't medical insurance. She can't sign up for Medicaid. In fact, because she's a girl in a poor family in an area that doesn't have the same standards or values for care as we do in our country, it can be pretty overwhelming to think about what her future holds. Joseph's obstacles don't even hold a candle to what this sweet little girl has gone through or will continue to go through. While surgeries and infant eye contacts seem a bit daunting to me, at least we have surgeries and infant eye contacts!
But then there was more. My sister sent me a picture of this precious baby's sisters. Healthy. Beautiful. But you see, their world is blind to them, to their value. And I realized that physical blindness isn't nearly as tragic as growing up in a place that tells you because you are a girl and because you are poor you really have no value, and in fact, are a cost and a detriment to society. It is what they are told from the time they are little and it is what they soon believe about themselves. And while I wish I could say it was limited to this little family, it's not. My sister works in just one of many areas where whole societies and cultures live this out. I once ask my sister what were the womens' reactions in her part of the world on some highly publicized rapes, in areas not unlike hers, that I had read about in the news. Her close friend there, when asked about it, told my sister while shaking her head, "It's no big deal, it's no big deal. It happens all the time."
What??? What do you mean it's no big deal? It is a HUGE deal. It is a HUGE deal that they are not valued and believe that they hold little or no value. It is a HUGE deal that they do not know that they are made in God's image by God Himself and therefore are of great value to Him. It's evil that they can be so violated, and heart-wrenching that they honestly think that that's a normal part of life. No, Joseph's blindness in his one eye is nothing compared to that. And so I realize my baby's blindness isn't the tragic blindness of the heart, of the soul...and I grieve more for this little girl oceans away--and all of her sisters as well. Oh, love them well, sweet sister. Help them to see that they are valuable in a place where everything screams that they are not. And then I'm there. I'm in a place where I think I need to be. A place where I can see past myself and yes, dare I say it as a mother, where I can even see past my children and my concerns for them. And I am reminded, convicted, compelled to pray for those who need so much more than an excellent surgical team and top-rated children's hospital. They need love. They need hope. And if there's one thing I know I will give my son over and over again, whether he gains sight in his left eye or not, is LOVE and the message of HOPE. And I pray that this little boy of mine will grow up to be a man who shares that same LOVE and HOPE to everyone around him, even if he looks like a pirate wearing a patch over his eye while doing it! :-)
And Monday? Well, I'd love prayers for that. You can pray for Joseph, for the surgery to be successful, for the doctors, nurses and staff and all that surrounds it. Other than the big obvious stuff, I'm most stressed about the time of fasting before surgery. That will be tough if my infant decides he's hungry, which seems to be all the time! You can pray for my mom as she will be with my kids back home. I would love it if each of my children would show their delightful, helpful side while she is here. And our stamina and attitudes, I know both will be tested these next few days. I pray that we will be gracious with each other and with ourselves. And one final request, but a big one--for Baby Zoe (not her name, but we'll go with it for security purposes). She's the little girl in this post. You can pray not only for her, but also for her sisters, her family and community. In fact, I would love it if each time we thought of Joseph and prayed for him, we would pray for her as well.
Again, thanks for hanging with me. Someday soon I'll post something light-hearted and funny. We really can laugh over here, I promise. :-)
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