Almost 13 years ago, I delivered a very premature baby at 23.5 weeks gestation, 16.5 weeks early. At the time, I didn't know babies survived who were born that early--and frequently they don't. Our baby weighed 1 lb. 5 oz. She could not yet open her eyes and her skin was almost transparent. She really struggled to breathe. The first hour after her birth the doctor couldn't get her oxygen levels above 50% when oxygen levels should be above 90%. Fortunately after that, she started breathing better.
About 12 hours after her birth, our bishop came to the hospital and gave her a blessing of protection and healing that filled me with hope I hadn't even dared to have. Maybe this baby had a chance at life after all!
Later that day around midnight--about 24 hours after she was born, I was called up to the NICU from my hospital room where I was sleeping. Camille's doctor was very concerned about her breathing and was going to have to give Camille a chest tube to get rid of dangerous air pockets (called pneumothorax) in her fragile lungs, a very invasive and painful procedure. She was worried Camille wasn't going to make it and she wanted me to be there. She told me to call my husband at our house to come too.
Scott came to the NICU and after a while Camille stabilized and the crisis passed. But Dr. Morelli was still worried. She and Dr. Minton talked to us for a while. They seemed to think that Camille's chances for a high quality of life were pretty low. Dr. Morelli basically told me that if Camille were her baby, she would take her off the ventilator and other life support and hold her until she passed on. Yes, they could get her to breathe--the quote I remember was, "We can get a rock to breathe!" But the probability of a catastrophic brain bleed causing severe disability in the first 3 days of life was high. It was a disturbing conversation.
After a few hours, Scott and I went to my hospital room to try to get some sleep in the last few hours of the night. Scott went to sleep pretty quickly--he's good at that--but I slept very fitfully. After an hour or two, all I could think about was this black cloud of doubt I had been infected with--it was one of the darkest experiences I have ever had. Previously I had felt hopeful about her prospects but now I wondered, were we supposed to let this baby go back to her Heavenly Father? Should we take her off these machines keeping her alive and put her out of her pain and misery? What would the rest of her life be like if we continued?
I lay alone in my bed, silently crying to God for comfort as this dark moment persisted. Finally a little before 7am, I woke Scott up and told him my concerns. We decided to pray together. It was not a long prayer. We asked, was this baby really supposed to live? Were we needlessly prolonging her life? Should we pray for her to be released from her life? At the end of the prayer, the fairly overwhelming thought and feeling I had was that these questions were actually ridiculous. Ridiculous is really the word that came into my mind. I had no other thought except those questions were not something to take seriously. This was a totally different feeling from the mood I had had for the previous several hours; a complete turnaround from the dark place I had been in. Clearly that thought did not come from me.
Right after we finished praying, my nurse for the day walked in. It turned out to be someone we had known slightly in a previous neighborhood. As Scott and I told her about our baby, she told us about a child she had known, a neighbor, who had been born very early too, as early as Camille. This little girl who was now much older had done very well and had only required strong glasses to see well. This was an additional answer for me. Some might call it coincidental but I choose to believe that it was a message from God telling me to hold on to hope.
We spent 5 months total in the NICU. As we were getting ready to leave, Dr. Morelli, who had been so negative at the beginning, walked by. She said Camille was doing better than she expected and she was glad to see her doing so well. By that time, I had (mostly) forgiven her for her negativity. To be fair, I am sure that she had seen a lot of premature babies whose prognoses seemed very grim. Perhaps to protect herself emotionally, she had already decided how she would handle it if she gave birth to a very premature baby.
I'm so glad we didn't make any decisions based on this doctor's professional but shortsighted opinion. She didn't know God's plan for Camille and I wouldn't have either if we hadn't prayed. I'm so thankful I asked God what he wanted us to do. From the perspective of 13 years later, I can see that NOT fighting for Camille's life was, in fact, a ridiculous choice. I shudder to think about the outcome if we had taken that doctor's advice.
Here is a video of Camille a little more than 2 years after her birth. You can see what a sweet little girl she was and how much joy she brought us and continues to bring us.
Camille's tremendous progress would also not be possible without the hours, days, and years of care given her by her devoted parents.
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