Maybe...just maybe

We were only minutes away from the local Children’s Hospital.  We pulled up behind the ambulance and jumped out.  The lady driving our car offered to keep an eye on Morgan.  I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t want him to see everything happening with his brother.  We didn’t have anyone to come help us.  I didn’t want to leave him with a stranger.  She told me she had two kids herself…and she would make sure he was okay.  I trusted her and I ran in after Max. 

He was so small lying on the stretcher.  Doctors and nurses surrounded him immediately.  They wheeled him into an emergency room and shut the door.  Someone directed us to a small room next to his where we could wait, where we would pray. 

Aaron was pacing, I was sitting, then we would switch.  Praying, praying, praying for a miracle.  I knew that anything less wouldn’t be enough.  I was crying, but had no tears.  I was in shock.  Was this really happening? 

The ambulance crew stayed around Max’s room, peeking in the window, with sorrowful expressions on their face.  After a little while, I realized Morgan would be fine with us.  He joined us in the small waiting room, continuing to pray.  I hoped that his childlike faith would be the key that would save Max.  “Keep praying, Morgan.” 

People were going in and out of Max’s room.  Every once in a while we’d catch a glimpse of them breathing for him or shocking his heart.  He never made a sound.  

A police officer came to talk with us.  He wanted to know what happened.  He was very apologetic, but I wanted to vomit.  He was from a town outside of Edinburg.  It turns out, when I made the 911 call we weren’t even in Edinburg.  We had crossed over to a bordering town and I hadn’t realized it.   He wanted to look in the car, check out Max’s car seat.   I was thinking, “take my car…I don’t care!” 

Then the doctor came in to see us.  She told us the one thing that no parent ever wants to hear.  “I’m sorry….”  I looked down for a second and then just let out a loud, agonizing scream.  It was the first time in my life that I felt I had absolutely no control.  I couldn’t have held in that scream if I had wanted to. 

I remember Aaron asking the doctor, “Are you sure?  Max is a strong boy.  He’s a fighter.  Did you do everything?  No...he’s too strong.  Are you sure?”  

God, it hurt so badly.  It still hurts…so, so bad. 

The doctor assured us they did everything they could.  Then a man came to the room and called the doctor out.  She soon returned to let us know that Max’s heart had started beating again.  He was still alive.  He had come back on his own.  She said they would run some tests and move him back to a room, but to be prepared because he had been without oxygen for quite a while. 

They wheeled him back to another room and we followed.  It was the best he had looked so far.  Maybe there was hope.  Maybe God had heard us.  Maybe…just maybe. 

 

And he said to them, "Why are you afraid, you of little faith?"  Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. -Matthew 8:26

"The insight of the most skilled doctors can't compare to a mother's heart." -St. Therese of Liseaux