While Christopher received his antibiotic infusions, and we waited for the infection to heal I had a lot of time to think about these questions. I was really getting concerned that at some point he was going to get an infection that he couldn't fight off, one that antibiotics couldn't kill. The doctors were worried too. They had told me time and time again to hope for the best but prepare for the worst.
Prepare for the worst??? What did they mean by that exactly? Should I prepare for his death, his funeral? My mind just didn't want to go there. Besides, who dies because of tape? It sounded ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous, but what if the worst did happen?
Maybe I was being selfish. I had been praying for his life, but I could see that his life had become all about pain and suffering. It made me ache that I couldn't do anything to make his pain stop. I wished we could trade places. Why was this happening? He is supposed to be learning to sit up, crawl, and walk. Somehow his life has become the hospital. This was no kind of life. Maybe I should pray for peace instead...God's peace, but I was afraid to. What if God's peace meant Christopher's death? What if the only way to escape this pain was not living at all?
Then my mind went to thoughts about a funeral, his funeral. Funerals are always sad, but his would be unbearable. Babies aren't supposed to die, but what if...the worst happens? I would want him to have his favorite white blanket with the balloons on it. We would definitely have his favorite Winnie the Pooh songs playing. There would need to be lots of flowers and balloons. He loves balloons...oh, and bubbles. He loves it when I blow bubbles. He likes to watch them float through the air. He smiles when they pop. We would definitely have bubbles.
Suddenly, my mind snapped back to the hospital room where my son was moaning in his hospital crib. I could hear the gentle sound of the IV doing its job delivering the life saving (hopefully) antibiotics into his weary body. He looked so worn out and tired. How much more of this could he take?
I didn't want him to have to take anymore of this pain. It was too much for him. It was too much for me. I began to pray...to BEG God to help my sweet little baby. Please, God give him peace, peace in this life. I don't want to plan his funeral. I want to see him grow up. I want to hear his voice. I suddenly realized that I'd never even heard him talk. I want to see him learn to walk, ride a bike, and go to school. I don't want to miss the "big stuff" like his graduation from high school and his wedding. I want him to celebrate birthdays, LOTS of birthdays. I want his life to be full of peace and happiness not pain and suffering.
None of this was up to me. None of this was what I wanted for him. I had no control over any of it. My mind went back to what the doctor had said, "hope for the best, but prepare for the worst." I guess it was good advice after all. I should pray for the best and ask God to help me in case of the worst.
It may not be the best, but today is not the worst. Today is still life. There is still hope with every beat of his heart.
If you have never accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, you can pray like this: