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As we approach the one year anniversary of the day Moise came into our
lives, and reflect on all that has taken place in twelve short months, I am
in awe of what a life changing experience this has been. May 2001-2002 has
been the best and worst year of our lives. It has been a time of joy and
tears, giving and receiving, loving and learning, endless sleepless nights
and life changing decisions. Through many tests and trials we have grown in
faith and spirituality. We began this journey in hopes of helping one small
child, never imagining that he would do more for us than we could ever hope
to do for him.
May 22, 2001, we received a phone call asking us if we'd keep a 4 1/2-month
baby boy who needed heart surgery. After discussing this as a family, we
agreed and two days later we waited at the airport for Moise to arrive.
This began an adventure that would change my life in ways that I could never
have imagined. As we waited with other families who were hosting Haitian
children, I had a flood of emotions running through me and I couldn't help
wondering what we'd gotten ourselves into. Looking back, I'm thankful that
we were ignorant of what lay in store for us. For surely I would have
turned my back and said, "I haven't the strength for that." When the pilot
carried Moise in and put him in my arms, I knew that I would never be the
same person I was the day before. This 4 1/2-month-old child weighed only
nine pounds and he was filthy. He had absolutely nothing, his body was
covered in what appeared to be several different rashes, and after a very
quick assessment, I knew that this child was very ill. And yet, he smiled
this most beautiful smile at me. A smile that reached his eyes and went
straight to my heart. Still today, that same smile melts my heart. I was
afraid for my children, as I knew this baby could carry any number of
diseases. I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility knowing that
somewhere across the waters, there was a mother who loved this baby enough
to let him go. I would do everything in my powers to help this child return
to his mother in good health. A verse from the Bible came to mind "Eph 4:7
For unto every one of us is given grace, according to the measure of the
Gift of God." I sent up a silent prayer, pleading for strength, grace and
wisdom, as I instinctively knew that I would hold all of these and much,
much more.
A couple of days after his arrival, Moise had to be rushed to the ER by
ambulance and a few days later he was in surgery. Moise was weak, his
surgery was difficult, and his recovery less than ideal. After two weeks in
ICU, we brought Moise home and I looked forward to "fattening him up" and
seeing his development and growth. However, after a few days I began to
face the facts that there was something wrong with this baby. He was very
irritable and hardly sleeping at all. His breathing seemed very labored and
he appeared distressed about something, but I couldn't exactly say what it
was. After many visits to doctors and admissions to the hospital we never
seemed to get any answers. My strength was running out and I was
emotionally and physically exhausted. Night after endless night without
sleep was beginning to take it's toll. I sat many hours during these weeks,
rocking Moise, trying to comfort him, and crying tears of frustration
because I just knew that something was terribly wrong. I cried for his
mother, for I knew that with her child in the U.S. she felt there was hope
and there I sat rocking her son, totally helpless.
Finally on July 15, Moise was admitted to ICU and it would be five weeks
before he came home again. For several days we watched, as he seemed to get
progressively worse until he was fighting for every breath he took.
Sometimes his big black eyes seemed to plead with me for help, but I was
helpless. It seemed that slowly and painfully this child was slipping away.
Though I'd prepared our family for many things before taking in this
child, it never occurred to me that the child might die. This thought of
death seemed like a failure or "mission unaccomplished." The morning of
July 20, Dr. Edwards sat and talked with me for quite some time explaining
things very matter of factly. As he was leaving he turned back and said,
"Moise is beyond medicine, and it's up to God now." Though I knew there
were many people praying, my faith began to waiver we needed nothing less
than a miracle. As I sat with Moise that day I prayed that I could love
this child as completely as I love my own children. Before this I had made
a point to try to keep myself somewhat detached from him. Because I knew
that I would have to let him go. If he was going to die I wanted to - had
to - know that I'd loved him as much as I possibly could. That afternoon as
Jim and I sat and watched him, he folded his tiny hands together and pulled
them into his face, as if in prayer. He lay like this for a long time.
Looking back, this was truly a miracle of itself, because it is not within
Moise's physical capabilities to fold his hands across his midline.
Later that evening, a bronchoscope was done to try to diagnose what was
going on in Moise's lungs. They had told me that he would have to be put on
a ventilator in order to survive the procedure. I struggled with this, as I
did not want him to be "kept alive" by machines. Dr. Edwards assured me
that this would not happen. The vent seemed to be the break that Moise
needed. Now that he didn't have to expel so much energy on breathing, his
body could fight the infection in his lungs. After a few days, Moise
reached a turning point and day by day he began to grow strength. After
several weeks of trying to juggle time with my own family and time with
Moise, we brought Moise home again on August 20. I felt much better about
Moise's health now. Although his breathing was still rapid, I'd come to
accept this as normal for Moise.
However, Moise brought with him a whole new set of challenges in the form
of a series of anti-tubercular drugs. These drugs were taken in large
volume for one so tiny and they caused profound diarrhea and upset stomach.
To get these drugs down Moise was quite a challenge. I usually gave them in
the middle of the night, as he seemed to tolerate them the best. But this
left me with little sleep once again. Many times I'd work over an hour to
get them down him, only to have him vomit them back up. Often, I'd crawl
back into bed after these grueling and frustrating experiences, crying and
saying, "I cannot do this one more night." Yet, morning always came and with
it the renewed strength and determination.
Moise quickly gained weight and his eyes were bright and happy. He smiled
often despite the effects of these drugs. We had all fallen hopelessly in
love with this miracle child. But "still there was something wrong with
this baby: was my thought each time I looked at him. After four children of
my own, I knew that developmentally this child was not showing any signs of
progression. He rarely moved his legs, his eyes would not remained focused
for any length of time, and at nine months he could not support his own
head. I kept telling myself that "he was near death, he was on a vent and
paralytic drugs, and he just needs time." My heart clung desperately to
this, but my head knew there was more, much more.
One afternoon, Jim discovered that Moise could not hear. We clapped our
hands, whistled, even banged pots and pans right in his ear, but he never
flinched. Now I was more determined that ever that something wasn't right.
A hearing evaluation was done showing that he was indeed not hearing much.
Finally a CT scan was done on his brain, showing definite abnormalities. We
learned that Moise has Cerebral Palsy and severe retardation. The only
positive thing I could say about the CT results was that we were able to
discontinue the dreadful TB drugs, because all of the findings were
conclusive with a congenital virus called CMV that causes birth defects.
CMV seemed to be an invisible, sleeping giant that was attacking my sweet
baby's body.
With these new findings came a whole new set of emotions. Before the CT
was done we'd talked seriously about adopting Moise. Now we had to decide
if we could adopt a child that may never walk, talk or eat by himself-an
eternal child. Adopting a child with multiple handicaps would alter our
lives drastically and I wasn't at all sure that we could handle this
challenge from a physical, emotional, and financial standpoint. I knew that
our own four children would have to make some huge sacrifices to accommodate
this child into our lives forever. And selfishly, I thought of the
sacrifices that I myself would have to make. I clearly recall when we first
decided to take Moise in May 2001. My sister commented on how my whole
summer would revolve around this sick child. My response was "What's one
summer compared to a child's life." It didn't take the children long to
conclude that handicapped or not, Moise was our baby. Jim rationalized that
we would grow with Moise and He'd mold into our lives as he'd already begun
to do. I considered all the options: he could go back to Haiti were he will
surely die, He could be adopted to another family in the U.S., or he could
stay with us. The first option was not really even an option. The second
was unfathomable. We had been through life and death with Moise and we
loved him so much. How could we hand him over to someone else and just say,
"Sorry, we just don't love him that much."? Yet to keep him was so
overwhelming. Jim and I finally decided that there really was no decision
to be made. God had made the decision for us when he brought Moise into our
lives. From that moment on we looked at this whole situation with new eyes.
This was not a burden but an honor to be able to love this child who has
touched so many lives.
In January, I visited Haiti in hopes of meeting Moise's mother. I wanted
desperately to see this woman who had given life to my child, but this was
not to be. Soon after I left Haiti, Dr. Carroll met with her and she agreed
that it was best for Moise to be adopted in the U.S. I think of and pray
for this woman often and still hope to some day meet her. My heart breaks
when I think of her because despite of the poverty that she lives in, she is
still a mother and I know that her arms ache to hold her beautiful son. She
will probably never understand the severity of Moise's condition or how very
special her son is. Sometimes I feel selfish because I am given so much joy
through Moise and she is only left with empty arms. I pray that someday,
mother to mother, that I can tell her how much I love this little boy, our
son and to thank her for loving him so much.
I have learned so many lessons from Moise. I've learned to take each day
as it comes, day by day, hour by hour. I have learned the power of prayer
and that in time of need; family and friends are priceless. My parents have
been a constant source of help and support through all of this. I've
learned that trials definitely make us stronger and that when we feel the
weakest, we may be our strongest. I have learned that children are much
stronger spiritually than we give them credit for. I've learned that no
matter how long or dark the night, morning always comes. And the darker the
night, the brighter the morning. Many things that were so important to be
before seem senseless now. All that really matters is life, love, and
faith. Each day is a miracle if we have love and love is all around if we
have eyes to see it. God answers prayer even when we're too weak to pray.
Life is precious and health is invaluable. And angels can be in human form.
We do not see Moise as imperfect as so many others do, but rather as
perfectly made according to God's plan. Jeremiah 1:5, Before I formed thee
in the belly, I knew thee. And before thou camest out of the womb, I
sanctified thee. We will do all in our power to help him reach his greatest
potential. We will hope for the best and prepare for the worst. We will
love him as unconditionally as we possibly can. And we will open our hearts
to all the joy he has to give us and thru valuable lessons he has to teach
us. It is a privilege to have been chosen to care for one who will someday
be one of the "Greatest in God's kingdom."
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by all that has taken place and what is yet to
come. But Jim is always there to remind me not to worry over things we
cannot control. We will simply do what we must do. I know that there will
be many trials yet to come and that we will have to lean heavily on out
Lord, but I also know that with the trials, he will give us strength.
Moise has touched so many lives with his chubby cheeks and radiant smile.
His laughter is infectious. Many people think of Moise life as sad because
he will probably never do the things that most kids do. I cannot feel
sorrow when I look into a face and eyes so full of joy. There have been
countless tears of joy for Moise. The first time he put his hand to a
bottle or lifted his head off of the floor: I cried. Though rare, there are
times when Moise will voluntarily reach out to touch my face or look right
into my eyes with a look of complete awareness. These are priceless moments
to be cherished. The things we take so for granted, that we never think
about, are huge milestones, treasures for Moise.
He is the perfect example of unconditional love. Each evening as I hold
his little body close to mine and smell his sweet scent, I feel like I could
burst with love for him. As our nine-year-old, Jamee, often says,
"Sometimes I want to hold him and squeeze him and never let him go." When I
lay him in his bed and touch his soft black curls, I listen to his even
breathing and remember back in July when he fought for each breath. And I
know that this child is a miracle in so many ways. Again, I weep for a
mother far away who cannot share in the joy this child brings. And in the
morning as I approach his bed, he giggles with excitement at seeing me and
again my heart aches with love, joy, and thankfulness. I am so thankful for
this beautiful angel whose name is Moise and I wonder why I have been so
very blessed.
Heaven's Very Special Child
A meeting was held quite far from earth
"It's time again for another birth,"
Said the Angels to the Lord above,
"This child will need much love."
His progress may seem very slow,
Accomplishments he may not show
And he will require extra care
From the folks he meets way down there.
He may not run or laugh or play
His thoughts may seem quite far away
In many ways he won't adapt,
And he'll be known as handicapped.
So let's be careful where he's sent
We want his life to be content
Please, Lord, find the home who
Will do a special job for You.
They will not realize right away
The leading role they're asked to play
But with this child sent from above
Comes stronger faith and richer love.
And soon they'll know the privilege given
In caring for this gift from Heaven.
Their precious charge, so meek and mild
Is Heaven's very special child.
Author Unknown |
