In That Room

Today I watched my daughter walk down the hallway.  Walk.  72 hours ago at this time, she was still on a ventilator.  48 hours ago at this time, she couldn’t sit up.  24 hours ago at this time, she could barely hold any weight at all on her weak little legs.  Kids recover quickly, I know that.  They see it here in the CICU frequently too, but after everything she went through, she has people who know a lot about a lot pretty surprised.

One week ago, I know God was in that room with us as she went into cardiac arrest.

I’m not saying He stopped her from dying, I don’t personally believe He works that way.  But, He held her in the palm of His hand as we walked through this, providing comfort at a time when little else could.  And, as I watched her walk down the hospital hallway today, I stood next to her children’s minister, crying, as my tiny sweet girl trailed her IV pole behind her shaky little body as she walked.  I’m pretty sure He was smiling at the joy I felt seeing something I wasn’t sure I would ever see again.

Today, I know God was in that room with us as we all watched her come back from the brink.

Tonight, as I was watching my daughter play happily, I heard the chimes go, the same ones that sounded for us at about this time last week.  I know God was in that room, just five doors away, too.  I don’t believe in a God that chooses one child to live, and one to die.  I believe in a God that loves all children equally, one that hears the anguish of every parent when those chimes ring.  One that sometimes welcomes children to Him who just can’t fight anymore.

Tonight, I know God was in that room with that mama as she asked them to please, please save her child.

I saw the scene play out from the outside looking in this time, watching what it must have looked like from the hallway when they came for my daughter.  I saw that same cart roll up.  I saw the same defibrillator.  I saw the same back board.  I watched no less than 15 faces, worried, hurried and determined, work with grace and compassion to save a little life.

I know God is in that room with those people every single time this happens.

And, God bless them for continuing to do this work.  I am in awe of the people who have saved, rehabbed, and loved on my girl these past nine days.  There is nothing that will ever, in all of eternity, come close to repaying them for the gift I have been given.

So, I’ll order them pizza when I get home, and that, and my undying gratitude, will have to be enough.

Dolly with Playdoh

–FullPlateMom, who hopes they like pepperoni.

2 thoughts on “In That Room

  1. Oh Becky….I’ve come back to read this post countless times. “I don’t believe in a God who chooses one child to live and one child to die.” I have struggled with this concept since Charlotte earned her wings…why her? Why our girl? What did we do wrong? As we come up on the 4th anniversary of her passing, your words provide comfort. he knows things we cannot know. Sees things we cannot see. He did not choose to hurt us, but rather knew that she was tired.

    Endless prayers to you and your family. May our Charlotte watch over sweet Tess today and always.


    1. I know God doesn’t love Tess any more than He loves your little girl. And I have never in my life done anything to deserve what I was handed last week. I think that is where fate comes into play. Some kids have hearts that can hold on, and some just don’t. I don’t know how Tess did. I don’t know. I am so, so sorry for your loss. As I type, it is like a punch to the gut just feeling 1/1000th of what you must go through every day. I can imagine the fear now, I’ve lived it, but the loss, I can’t even, and it would be an insult to you to say that I could. I think faith comes after the loss. You took Charley’s memory and you did something amazing to support the kids who still fight. Tess’ Red Butt has brought endless hours of comfort. And, as we read the same book over and over in the hospital, I thought of you all, and all you do to make these hospital stays more fun for the kids who are still walking this rough road. You’ve honored your girl’s memory in a beautiful way. God bless you, and I truly believe that kids like Charlotte, and Daniel (who was gone too fast too), were also in that room with Tess last week.

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