Chasing out fear, choosing faith...

The MRI was encouraging.
{Insert HUGE sigh of relief...}
No visible sign of damage to the brain.
That does not insure that the functionality of all his faculties is intact,
but at least it is not a negative.
At least it is not more BAD news.
Today has been our scariest yet.
And also our most sacred.
What a juxtaposition of emotion...
.
I went to bed at about 4:30 Friday morning.
Baby B was resting quietly.
I kissed him goodnight and said a prayer with him at his bedside.
He opened his eyes and our hearts connected.
Spirit to spirit.
For just a brief moment
Good Night, my sweet boy, I said.
.
I went to my sleep cell a few hallways away.
Thank you, Savannah, for the electric blanket.
I was warm and slept soundly until about 8:15.
I woke and packed up my bag, pulling it back down the hallway,
greeting the familiar faces along the trek.
Another day here at the PICU.
.
As I walked into B's room and met the new Day Nurse, Rowdy,
I was immediately alarmed.
In the bed where I'd left my little boy to heal and rest
lay a glassy-eyed guy with a blank, empty stare.
My stomach dropped...
"So how are we this morning?", I asked cautiously.
Rowdy filled me in on the morning's Neuro Exam.
He'd come on shift to meet Bronson for the first time and had been advised of his exciting progress.
But he'd found him a little sluggish.
Wide awake, but not really alert.
Staring blankly without focusing. Looking right through everyone.
Unresponsive to stimuli.
What had changed in those 3 hours and 45 minutes?
.
The Nurse Practitioner was called.
Then the Attending Physician.
Then the Neuro-Trauma Specialist.

We went over and over his chart, again and again.

We asked about all his medications.

What had changed? What had increased? What was new since yesterday?
We hypothesized about the possible changes and his sudden decline.
No one had any answers.

Had we imagined the encouraging progress? Embellished it? Misunderstood it?
No, I had seen my boy.
We had seen our boy. We were sure of it.
Others were sure of it.

We even had him on video from the day before.

Dr. Bennett explained that a neuro-trauma injury can evolve and often plateau.

Was this our plateau?

Was this the boy we would be left with?

We felt defeated.

Like someone had just let the air out of our balloon.

.

.
We may have to wait for an MRI until Monday.
How could we wait until Monday?
No, they could squeeze us in.
We waited the long, drugerous hours until 3:00 pm.
.
Our Stake President stopped in to see how we were doing.
He found us worried. Well, terrified. Faltering in our faith. Sick.
Matt gathered himself and they offered Bronson a Priesthood Blessing.

Matt... Oh, my Matt...
He turned his little body and mind back over to the God who had helped us to create him.
Asking for the faith to discover Heavenly Father's will and the strength to follow it.
To align ours with His.
President Francom counseled and advised. Hugged and encouraged.

What a blessed servant of the Lord.

He left us and I plead for your prayers.
They took Bronson down for the MRI.
Matt and I held each other in that empty little hospital room and fell apart in each others' arms. Sobbing and clinging to one another, praying.
Pleading for our son with every ounce of strength we could muster.
Sealing our hearts together.
Like never before.
I can not share the words we spoke with one another.
They are the most precious we have ever shared together.
But as I spoke, I realized that faith can not grow where fear is allowed to dwell.
There is not room in my heart for both.

Fear is the paralyzing agent of the adversary.

A first line of his defense.
And so I made a choice.
I must choose faith. Choose to believe. Despite the odds.

Despite the grim news. Despite the reality before us.
No matter how vulnerable and unguarded I let myself become, I will not, I can not fear.
I swallowed hard. Past the unbearable burn in my throat.

And chose to let go of the fear. Chasing it out with my faith.

Doctors do not know everything. They can only make their best guesses.
And even they admit to seeing miracles every day.
.
I know Heavenly Father lives.
I know He loves Bronson and has a plan for his life.
If it is God's will for him to remain with us, he will.
Simple as that.
And with the whole world praying, what have I to fear?
The Lord is bound to answer the prayers of the righteous when they are asked in faith.
And this is the righteous desire of our hearts...
We plea that He will spare our son. Heal his body. Protect his mind.
So that he may live out the rest of this mortal life as a testimony of God's miraculous power.
I can not consider the other option.
There is no other option.
.
But I am stronger than I thought I was.
I can do hard things.
Our family can do hard things.
We will accept the will of our loving Father in Heaven because it has never lead us astray.
Why would it now?
We will trust. We will be believing.
We will continue loving and being loved.
And we will press on faithfully, because we are faithful.
.
This I know...
Bronson's spirit is untouched. It lies within a broken body I do not know how to fix.
But he is ours. Forever. Come what may.
I am blessed to be his Mommy. Matt to be his Daddy.
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The name Bronson means "Strong one".
The name Micheal means "One who is like God".
It is no coincidence that we chose these names for him.
What a powerful force he is...
Our strong, sweet, wonderful, beautiful boy.
By small and simple things, great things are brought to pass.
And great things have already come to pass.
People who do not pray, are praying.
People who do not believe, are finding hope.
People are reevaluating their faith and priorities.
I am reevaluating my faith and my priorities.
And THAT is the miracle.
He is uniting people across the globe.
Literally.
Teaching the power of prayer. Individually. And how collectively, it multiplies exponentially.
Allowing us an opportunity to practice our faith. And allow it to grow.
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I do not know why our family was chosen to pass through this challenge.
But I do know that God is mindful of each and every one of us.
All of the time.
He reaches out with tender arms of mercy.

In tiny specific ways.
Extending his grace until we are filled. Until we are enough.
.

Our Angel Nurse, Sally, helped us to hold him tonight.

To cradle our arms around him, stroke his tender cheeks and watch him sleep.

We sang to him that he is a Child of God.

A bit of Heaven was in our little room

as I felt his warm, limp body pressed against my own.

Count your blessings if you can do that without tubes and wires and machines between you.

.

For anyone keeping score we are two tubes down today.

Bye bye to the peripheral IV line in his ankle.

Good riddance to the arterial line in his bloody little wrist.

We will not miss them.

But we reluctantly welcomed two more necessary peripheral IV lines.

One in his left ankle. The other in his right hand.

We still do not know what is causing the seemingly unexplainable decrease

in his neurological functions today, as opposed to yesterday and the day before...

I have a hunch, but I'm not a doctor.

I'm just the Mommy.

Thank heaven I get to be the Mommy!