Deliver

November has become a month of conflicting emotions for me. The time change adds hours of darkness to our day, the weather becomes dreary: not quite cold enough for snow, but the cold rain is enough to chill your bones. The leaves of the trees have lost their color, most of them having made their descent to the ground, and the dormancy of winter is quickly approaching. I find the conglomeration of these events enhances the vivid memories of darkness and difficulty that was our life in November 2019. The literal darkness that consumes the day seems to subconsciously transfer to my heart and mind at times. And yet, when I allow myself to relive those painful memories, and I recount all the wonderful deeds God allowed us to witness because of the difficulty, I can’t help but thank Him with the entirety of my heart. Speaking for myself, I’m understanding I’d never experience the fullness of joy without first knowing the sting of pain. When I allow myself to process the flashbacks and the emotions of our time in the NICU, rather than pushing those feelings and memories aside, deep gratitude washes over my soul and I can feel the light of hope, restoration, and healing shine through again.

At 3 weeks old, Jane was making strides forward with her breathing, while Cora was steadily taking steps backwards. It was a day or so before Thanksgiving that all tests pointed to pneumonia for Cora. On Thanksgiving Day we found out it was MRSA pneumonia, and doctors told us this type of pneumonia had a tendency to leave more scarring on the lungs, therefore, requiring a longer recovery time. God had so graciously given us scripture the day before to ease our worries. It was John 11:4 which reads,

“This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God,

so that the son of God may be glorified through it.”

Every morning I would sit in a chair by the girls’ isolettes, read my Bible, and journal my prayers. I would write down a scripture verse from my reading that day into my journal along with a list of things to be grateful for and prayer requests. The day before Cora’s pneumonia diagnosis I was reading about Lazarus. His family was distraught over his illness and sent for Jesus and he responded with the words in the above scripture. When I wrote them in prayer journal that morning, I didn’t know Cora had pneumonia, but I felt impressed to write it down and I thought of illness as Cora and Jane’s general prematurity and the problems that accompany it. But God knew the news we were about to receive, and He knew it would be hard on us. He knew I would be scared, so he thoughtfully gave me the answer before I even knew the problem.

I don’t want to diminish how incredibly thankful I was for the peace, hope, and assurance that this scripture provided, but it didn’t act as a magic eraser that caused the pain or difficulty that accompanied watching Cora struggle just disappear. Though she couldn’t cry, I could see the discomfort she felt in her body language, and it broke my heart.

It was 3 months before Cora’s lungs reached enough healing before she could have her breathing tube removed. The older she got, the more she fought the tube. She had to be placed under light sedation because if she moved too much, she could dislodge that tube. The healing was so gradual, it felt like time was literally standing still. After two failed extubations, she was finally able to have that tube removed in February of 2020, I prayed she would never ever EVER need it back. For the next 3 months Cora continued to have little respiratory setbacks here and there, but thanks to a steroid protocol, she never needed to be intubated again.

After consulting with a pulmonologist, the neonatologists agreed to let Cora come home on steroids and a higher oxygen requirement than they usually send babies home on. Chris and I felt confident we could monitor and manage her needs from home and we were so very grateful they made those exceptions for us to do so. From home, the pulmonologist gradually weaned her meds and oxygen until she was able to be free from it all without any setbacks. Cora had remained healthy and in the Spring of 2021 the oxygen company removed the oxygen tanks from our home. It felt so freeing, but also a little scary. Having the oxygen in our home felt like a safety net we could fall back on if sickness arose. Nevertheless, our home was becoming less medical, and we were embracing it.

Over the spring and summer of 2021, Cora and Jane had each experienced a couple of colds, that didn’t require any special attention. We felt like maybe we were getting over the hump of their premature immune systems and could breathe a little easier knowing they could handle respiratory illness without medical intervention. But that theory came crumbling down when Cora became very sick very quickly the day after Thanksgiving. What started with some congestion the night before turned into a fever, lethargy, a tight, barky cough, and increased work of breathing the next morning. When her inhaler didn’t seem to help enough, we took her to the Emergency Room. After listening to her lungs, they determined she had bronchiolitis from a respiratory virus. Because her symptoms only started 3 days prior, they had a strong feeling her symptoms would likely grow worse before she started turning a corner. Based on her oxygen levels and work of breathing, they admitted her for an overnight stay. Initially, Cora responded well to breathing treatments, but overnight her lungs started sounding worse, and her work of breathing had significantly increased. By morning, the doctors suspected pneumonia. Not again, I thought to myself. Almost down to the exact date to when she had pneumonia 2 years prior in the NICU… Talk about some major PTSD triggers. Working around lead wires to change diapers, switching her pulse ox at assessments, weighing her diapers, the pulse ox monitor alarm, even the sound of the nurse’s keyboard as she charted, all of it, was just a little too familiar for me and I was struggling. The only thing that wasn’t familiar were the nurses. At least in the NICU, Cora and Jane had their primary nurses, people we came to know and love, and I found myself wishing they could float right on down to the toddler floor to come take care of my sweet Cora Belle.

Here we were again. I was worried and exhausted, watching and analyzing every breath Cora took, begging God to make it easy for her to breathe. In the times I’ve watched my daughters work so hard to fill their lungs, I’ve found myself forgetting to fill mine. I felt myself holding my breath because I was anxious that Cora would need intubated again – something that I never wanted her to experience again. The other aspect that made this stay different than her NICU stay was that Cora was older, more aware, and more vocal with her feelings. Physically she felt awful, and emotionally she was terrified. It was heartbreaking to watch. She especially hated the breathing treatment mask the nurse would administer every 3 hours, she sobbed at the mere sight of it. There is a song about the name of Jesus that we sing to the girls as part of their bedtime routine. Cora, having just turned 2, had a limited vocabulary at the time, but she could say Jesus. When the nurse came in to do a treatment that first evening, I held Cora close, and I could hear her weak, little raspy voice singing the name Jesus over and over into her mask and she wasn’t crying anymore. As I watched that sweet girl call on the name of Jesus, my eyes were then the ones welling up with tears. The peace that came when she mentioned His name was unmistakable and I believe anyone who had the pleasure of walking into our room during those times felt it, too.

We made it through the night, and while Cora seemed a bit more comfortable in her breathing, she was still requiring a decent amount of oxygen, so the team decided they would do a chest x-ray at some point during the day. At home, Jane was also sick, so Chris and I felt that we should divide and conquer so one of us could be at home with Jane.  I had been at the hospital with Cora for almost 2 days, without sleep, food or a shower, so Chris and I switched places. I was so thankful to come home to a warm meal, homecooked by my mom, and plenty of hugs from Jane and Asher, wow did I miss them.

While I was home I listened to another song about speaking the name of Jesus. The lyrics speak of praying the name of Jesus for various conditions – and the power that comes in just the mention of His name. I of course began to cry again thinking about little Belle speaking the name of Jesus in her hospital room and I began to pray “Jesus for Cora”. The word “deliver” came to mind while I was praying. I was thinking about how when Cora had pneumonia the first time the Lord gave us the word “restore” as we prayed healing for her lungs. I thought how it was a long process for Cora’s lung function to be restored. So this time, I was praying deliverance for Cora, a speedy recovery, if you will. I then read Psalm 91:14 – 16, which states:

“Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him.

I will protect him, because he knows my name.

When he calls to me, I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him.

With long life I will satisfy him

And show him my salvation.”

I knew that as a 2 year, Cora couldn’t fully comprehend who Jesus was, but as the above passage stated, she knew His name, and felt the peace that comes from calling on it. Because of the peace we felt, I knew that He heard her call.

I’m not sure why I always feel so surprised when I experience the Lord using His word to speak to me or my situation. In some ways I hope I never lose that sense of awe and wonder that the Creator of the Universe fully knows me and sees me, but in another way, He literally says in Jeremiah 29:13-14:

“Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me,

 and I will hear you. 

You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. 

 I will be found by you, declares the Lord “

I’m learning that when I come to the end of myself, those are the times that I earnestly seek the Lord with all my heart. He has been nothing but faithful to meet me, sustain me, and uplift me in my brokenness. What a good, good Father.

While I was at home having this time of prayer for Cora, she was undergoing a chest x-ray. Chris called to tell me about it and shared that it didn’t begin well. He explained that there were issues with transport and her oxygen situation and tension between staff that created a stressful start to the procedure. When they got her to the x-ray room, she was anxious as they stretched her little body out on the table and secured her hands and feet. When they got everything prepared for the picture, they started having problems with the x-ray equipment. Cora had been stretched out on the table longer than expected and began to cry. As Chris was holding her hands, Cora locked eyes with him and started singing Jesus again. He joined her and it settled the entire scene. The tension melted, the equipment started working, and they were able to get the x-rays taken. My sweet, sweet girl. Again, I’m convinced everyone in the room felt the peace of Christ that day.

The x-rays revealed Cora’s bronchiolitis escalated to pneumonia. There’s no treatment for viral pneumonia, just supportive care through oxygen and steroids, until it runs its course. Even though we weren’t thrilled with this news, the Lord had already made it abundantly clear that He was with us and that we would get on the other side of this. Over the next few days Cora’s oxygen requirements held steady at 3 liters and she was unable to wean down. On day 4 of her hospital stay, she began improving drastically. By day 5 she no longer required oxygen, but the team wanted to observe her overnight without oxygen before sending her home. On day 6 she was released! She didn’t even have a cough anymore by the time she got home. It was as though God truly delivered her from that condition without a single lingering effect. When she came through the door into our home Jane and Asher ran over to give her big hugs. The smile that came across her face, along with the twinkle in her eye said it all: home, sweet, home. And with that, we made it through her first (though it wouldn’t be the last), post-NICU hospital stay and we all came out stronger than when we went in.

The times we’ve spent in the hospital with our children have been some of the absolute hardest. I have felt confused, scared, exhausted, sad, angry, defeated…. And yet when I’ve turned to Jesus for help, He has counteracted every one of those difficult emotions; because of that, they have been some of the most precious times. The Lord never promised any of us a life of ease, but He has promised to take every trial we go through and make something beautiful out of it. Beauty for ashes.  Cora taught me a valuable lesson during that stay. She taught me that in times of trouble, when I may not understand everything that’s going, that if I call on the name of Jesus with child-like faith, He is very present to help. He really is as close as the mention of His name. And when you have the peace of Christ ruling in your heart and mind, you can endure whatever comes your way.