Jasmine

          It’s 5:40 p.m. and I think, “Wow, I might actually be on time for something”. Tobie my 3 year old has his first pre-school parent meeting in 20 minutes. The phone rings and it’s my husband, “I’m running late” he says. It’s okay, the kids are ready and all I have to do is my hair and fix a diaper bag. I turn around and Tobie runs by me bare foot. After a tiring battle of the wills, I get his socks and shoes back on. I hurry into the bathroom to do my hair and look down; my shirt is covered with cookies. While battling my uncooperative hair I hear, splash…splash, coming from behind. I turn around and Jasmine, my 2 year old is playing in the toilet. I clean her up, change clothes and make another attempt to fix my hair. Suddenly Tobie begins laughing hysterically. Out of curiosity I make my way to the family room to see what could possibly be so funny. Tobie has Tyson, my 1 year old cornered on my leather sofa pouring red fruit punch over his head. After a quick bath and a change of clothes for Tyson, I set Tobie down for time out and make one final attempt to do my hair, but it’s 6:00. I throw my hair back in bun, put a few diapers in the diaper bag, slip my sandals on and in comes my husband. “Let’s go, we’re late,” he states and we’re off.

          You may think, “what a nightmare, glad it’s her and not me!” and I’d have to agree with you. I’m glad it’s me also. Though my life is crazy and hectic, I love it because it’s the life that God chose for me. That makes it perfect. I have a lot to be thankful for. Often parents take for granted the little things, the things that seem insignificant; things such as good health, strong bodies, and the energy that God gives our children. I was one of those people after I had Tobie, my first child. Instead of being grateful for the small things, I found all too much to complain about.
A hard dose of reality knocked me off my feet and right onto my knees when my daughter Jasmine was born. At first everything was wonderful. She slept all the time, never woke me up through the night, and never cried. I thought, contrary to the nightmare (that everyone told me it would be) of raising two children so close in age, this would be wonderful. The nightmare for us was merely beginning.

          At Jasmine’s two-week follow up we found ourselves sitting in an emergency room without a clue as to what was going on. “Yup, this kid is dehydrated”, the doctor said clicking off his flashlight and turning around to me. I tried to explain that Jasmine slept most of the time and would very seldom stay awake long enough to drink an entire bottle. Sometimes I couldn’t wake her up at all. However, the doctor was out the door before I could barely get my words out. For almost five hours my entire family stood there trying our best to slow down the nurses as they rushed in and back out. We had heard four different stories and not one of them corresponded. One minute they were airlifting Jasmine to St. Louis, then the next minute they weren’t. Finally the doctor came in to speak with us. As he shirked our questions and avoided giving us a straight answer, I was beginning to lose my temper. In my last desperate attempt to stay patient I asked him, “In your professional opinion, what do you think is wrong with her?”, “In my professional opinion?” he retorted, “I’d say this kid is mentally retarded or has Down’s syndrome. However I’m not qualified to make that analysis.” An empty silence fell on the room. His words hit me like a blast from an explosion. My whole body felt like it had been smashed into the floor by a ton of bricks, and all I could do was look up at everyone, seeing their mouths move, but hearing nothing. I stood there speechless, motionless, and in complete denial. I almost wanted to laugh at him, but I knew by the look on his face that he was serious. Then everyone started talking at once and all of their voices mingled together and faded out. All I could hear was the doctor’s piercing words, “Mentally retarded or Down’s syndrome”, going over and over again in my mind. Of all things, that was not at all what I was expecting to hear. I stood there looking at her thinking, “There’s no way”.
          Within the hour a helicopter arrived with an amazing team of specially trained emergency pediatric nurses who took my 5lb 6oz daughter away from me. A few moments later my peaceful and quiet baby girl was crying for the first time since the day she was born, as they stuck an IV in her scalp and attached a dozen wires all over her body. We watched feeling completely helpless and utterly horrified. They loaded her into an incubator, onto the helicopter, and off into the sky they went. I don’t remember one word that was said during the entire two-hour drive between home and St. Louis. I sat quietly, trying my best to keep myself from plunging over the precipice of fear that I suddenly found myself dangling at. The doctor’s words “Mentally retarded or Down’s syndrome” kept provoking me, like a relentless echo in my head.

          We arrived at SSM Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital in St. Louis, Mo nearly 45 minutes after Jasmine. We found her sleeping peacefully. Immediately the doctor came in and introduced herself. “Jasmine has pneumonia and we think she might have meningitis”, she declared. “We’ll do a spinal tap on her to make sure and we’ve already started her on medication for the pneumonia.” I thought for a moment that we were out of the woods and the doctor back at the other hospital was out of his mind. After a while she asked, “Did the people at the other hospital mention anything to you? ”, she asked. “You mean about Jasmine being Down’s syndrome”, my husband replied. “Oh good, we were hoping they had”, she said. “We think so too, so we drew blood and sent it off for a chromosome test.” The doctor went on to say that she also felt that Jasmine might have a heart defect which was very common in Down’s babies. Anger welled up inside of me. Everyone was making light of the fact that Jasmine had Down’s. It wasn’t until I spent more time in the hospital with her that I realized that the nurses and doctor’s in these hospitals see so many horrible things. Down’s Syndrome was really the least of their worries. That day changed our lives. Later, a cardiac ultrasound showed that Jasmine did have a heart defect; known as a Complete Atrio-Ventricular canal. For those of us who are challenged by medical terminology, this simply meant that Jasmine had a hole somewhere in the wall of her heart and possible leakage in the valves. This was a very serious condition that would require her to have open-heart surgery by six months of age. Jasmine spent the next month in the hospital. Within that first stay they found that she had hypothyroidism and she developed sever acid reflex. Because Jasmine’s reflex was so bad, the doctors ordered an NG Tube to be administered. This is a small white tube that is inserted into the nostril and slides down the esophagus and into the stomach. When Jasmine was three months old she was admitted again to have stomach surgery. The surgeon put a Gastronomy Button in Jasmine’s side, (which allowed the nose tube to be taken out) and they also did a Fondoplycation. Jasmine recovered in the hospital for nearly 4 weeks from that surgery. Unfortunately we had a lot of problems with the button. It was constantly getting infected and she could not lie on her stomach because of it. A combination of her heart defect and the surgery she’d had, caused her to be admitted for the slightest elevation in temperature.

          At six months Jasmine was once again admitted, this time for her heart surgery. A cardiac catheterization performed prior to the surgery proved that Jasmine had two holes in her heart; one the size of a quarter and the other was a little smaller than a dime. That day our family sat in the waiting room trying their best to keep their mind off of what was going on. In my heart of hearts I knew Jasmine was fine. In fact I was waiting on the surgeon to come out scratching his head saying, “I know there was a hole there yesterday!” I had faith, and I knew there were people from Maine to California praying for Jasmine. However, an hour went by; then two. Finally one of the nurses came out and told us that Jasmine had gone under and the surgeon was now cutting through the chest bone. My heart broke. I questioned God, “why? Did I not have enough faith?” Then all of the sudden the spirit of God hit me. The Lord spoke to me, probably clearer than He ever has before. He said, “It is not meant for everyone to have a miraculous healing. Sometimes you’re meant to endure these hardships”. “But why God? What did we do to deserve this?” I questioned. Then almost as if someone was actually speaking to me, God’s spirit swept over me even stronger and said, “Rejoice for I have answered your prayer according to my will. Thank me for what I have done”. Instantly I felt ashamed and began praising God. I walked up and down the hallway thanking Him and rejoicing for what He had brought us through. The truth is I never really worried about Jasmine. I knew she would be okay. I just believed it. And she was. Ten Hospital admittances, 8 or 9 late night/early morning ER visits, and at least four- dozen doctor’s appointments had brought us to the point of breaking. Yet God in all His glorious strength brought us through. I have always believed that God has a hand in everything that happens. I look back now and I don’t know how I kept my sanity and until recently I hadn’t figured out what our lesson was supposed to be. One day I was reading my bible and God gave me this scripture, Romans 6: 2-4 (New Living Translation)

         “Because of our faith, Christ has brought
         us into this place of highest privilege
         where we now stand, and we confidently and
         joyfully look forward to sharing God’s
         glory. We can rejoice, too, when we run
         into problems and trials, for we know that
         they are good for us. They help us learn to
         endure. And endurance develops strength of
         character in us, and character strengthens our
         confident expectations of salvation.”

         I first read this scripture in the King James Version, but until I compared the Living translation it just didn’t grab a hold of me. God was not just teaching me patience and endurance, He was strengthening me spiritually. Although God didn’t answer my prayer in the way I thought He should have, He answered it according to His will. We know we can lean on God, but until a person is put in the position where they have no other hope and they have to lean on God because they can’t do it alone…it builds faith. Faith is the key. If we could just learn to have absolute faith in God, with absolutely no reservations, there is nothing that could stop us!!!

         In all the time I spent in the hospital with Jasmine, I saw some very horrifying things. I only endured the tests and trials because God was giving me strength. All of the people, who I met with much greater problems than mine, don’t realize they have God to lean on. Because of my experiences, now I know how to pray for them. Jasmine is two years old now. She has four therapists that visit her weekly. She’s walking, talking, eating everything in sight, and her heart is beating better than new. Most importantly…she’s smiling!!!!!!

By: Amy Cochran