Louisa is still behind bars

Our dear little one has been trying to get herself out of here after her GI bleed 10 days ago.  She finished her 5 day course of antibiotics and nothing by mouth on Wednesday and they commenced with her re-feeding -- very slowly at first and gradually ramping up to full feeds yesterday.  But then this morning, there was more blood in the diaper.  The clock has been temporarily re-set and we are again waiting...

No one can really give us a straight answer.  The "protocol" is all over the place and appears to be pretty attending doctor specific (I love protocols that don't seem to follow a protocol.  Why do we do that in medicine?).  Some will automatically go with 5-7 days of antibiotics again no matter how much blood or for how long.  This would then be followed by the re-feeding process and the pins and needles waiting for bloody poo.  The weekend team has basically punted until the new Monday team arrives in the morning.  We'll meet a new doctor and he/she will decide our fate for the week.

Of course, Louisa's fate was decided well before the foundations of the earth were established how ever many thousands or millions of years ago (shall we settle young vs old earth here?  Maybe the next post...).   She is just one of billions of people that the Lord cares for and looks after.  He gave her to us as the seventh kid.  Six others came before her.  We were just thinking how much easier this would have been had she been the first.  I could just commute to work from the hospital and Carissa could stay here with no thoughts of home.  But then again, our kids wouldn't be learning all there is to learn about our great God through this.

We are growing weary, no doubt.  And our kids are growing weary.  This unexpected stay at hotel Mott has lost its luster.  The kids are more quickly frustrated with the lack of parental involvement in their lives.  This isn't getting any easier.  They are doing so good to remain strong, but how much more of this can they take?  Will they continue to believe us that the Lord has our good in mind when as far as they can tell, this completely stinks and is just plain bad?  We are confident that just as the Lord put Louisa on life support in order to pull her off, He'll do the same for any of our other kids who go on spiritual life support in order to bring glory to His name when He takes them off.

These days have a different sort of darkness to them than the days in January/February did.  Those days seemed to make some sort of sense.  We knew her condition was a serious one.  We knew the surgery was risky.  We knew there were all kinds of complications.  We knew a month in the hospital post-op was a real possibility since the AVERAGE length of stay was 2-3 weeks.  It was hard - we didn't expect cardiac arrest and ECMO, but in a way, we did expect it.  This just feels a bit cruel.  I know I'm in dangerous territory here.  I know that my Heavenly Father is not cruel.  But what is the use in dragging this on?  What is the use in having a phlebotomist struggle for 10 minutes with a needle in Louisa's arm with NOTHING coming out when she's already been through so much?  Did her lungs really need a 10 minute work-out?  What's the use in her having a 7th IV in 10 days?  What's the use in our 6 kids going parentless for ANOTHER week?  What's the use in the boys losing a mom (for the second time!) when they were just settling in to their new family?  What's the use in leaving Louisa laying here staring at the ceiling tiles so we can go home to parent the other 6?  What is the use in sleeping another night in a stiff recliner -- it's the plastic type which is great because it can be cleaned well, but when you're tossing and turning all night and getting a little sweaty and your shirt drifts up and your skin is sticking with every toss...really Lord?  What's the use?

Does it sound like I'm complaining?  I am complaining.  And what should we do when we find ourselves complaining?  We should look to the cross.  Actually, the cross is where things don't make sense.  The cross feels in so many ways useless.  It was so cruel.  So unfair.  So unjust.  Did a father -- a Heavenly Father -- really stand by while His Son was tortured to death?  Did He really in fact FORSAKE His own Son?  What was the use?!  I guess that's really the crux of the matter (pardon the pun).  What was the use?

Those of us living on this side of the cross in history have the amazing benefit of seeing what the use of the cross was -- namely, that the cross reconciled a chosen race of God's people to Himself when really, all hope had otherwise been lost.  And I benefit from the cross.  I will one day stand before my maker.  Will I continue complaining and say to Him, "Well, I really sucked it up while you stuck it to me with that baby you gave me.  I kept going to work, I didn't leave my wife.  I tried hard to balance things with the other kids.  It stunk, but I didn't turn my back on you.  And it didn't feel much like a blessing.  C'mon, let me in.  Isn't that enough for you?"  It isn't enough and that would be foolish.  But isn't that pretty much what my list of complaints 2 paragraphs above amounts to?  It's embarrassing really.

So there is a use to this.  The IV pump that is literally blasting in my ear while I type this has a purpose.  The pump says "occluded - patient side".  Maybe the 8th IV is coming.  Maybe more needles and pain for my little 3 month old is coming in the next half hour.  But if the crucifixion of Jesus bought me eternal life, I can be darn sure that this present suffering is preparing something big and it'll be good.

I hope my kids can learn this.  Carissa was worrying about them earlier today and I said, "you know, this will scar them."  But scars serve a purpose.  They are a sure sign of damage -- something bad happened, something painful.  But they are also a sign of healing.  You can look at your scar and say, "look here, I was wounded, but then I was healed.  This hurt once, but now it's fine.  This was bleeding, it was even infected, but now it's healthy tissue.  It's no longer festering.  It's strong and tough" (ask any surgeon how tough scar tissue is to get through).  And the great thing about scars is that after many, many years, they fade away, they're hard to find, never gone, but harder to find.

So, we're a wounded bunch right now.  The wounds are still open, still bleeding a bit, even festering with a little infection.  But we're on antibiotics and the scabs are starting to form.  Soon, the scabs will give way to the scar.  And we will know that just as Louisa's median sternotomy scarred over in roughly 6 weeks, our wounds will heal over as well.  And best of all, we remember that we serve a Savior who also carries scars from wounds that bought our freedom -- freedom from ourselves and this present suffering.  Kids, don't trade that for anything!  Don't look at the cross, those wounds, and turn away thinking it useless.  Louisa would have died were it not for her scars.  You would be dead were it not for His.    

...is a beautiful scar in April!

A wound in January...