Thoughts on Joy's Appendicitis...

Before we get too far away from the experience, I want to take the time to write down the things Jesus spoke over me while we watched our daughter suffer. I understand that this is not suffering as some parents are forced to watch their children suffering. I understand that I was not even suffering as so many people have, but I still believe the things God spoke to me are real - and wherever you are, I pray he would use them to speak over you as well. 

No one can truly explain to you what it is to watch your child in pain. I thought it was bad to watch Andrew scream for the first 10 months of his life (and it was). But this was different. Joy was curled in a ball, could only be carried - but cried every time you touched her. As we sat in the ER waiting, I was impatient and then I was annoyed. Finally I looked at Steven and said, “We should have just taken her to Urgent Care.” Did I know what was best for my daughter? No. I thought I did. Did I know the intricacies of her body? Did I know what is wrong? No, I knew nothing. But I knew she was in pain and in my humanness, I wanted it to be over with, NOW. 

When we finally got a room in the ER, they needed to draw blood and put in an IV - but since they had told me not to let her eat or drink, she was severely dehydrated and they couldn’t find a vein. The sweet nurse poked and prodded and tried the absolute best she could, but to no avail. All the while, Joy clung to Steven and I crying saying, “I want to go home! I want to see Bubby!” My mama’s heart wanted to sweep her out of that bed and take her home where she was safe and no one was poking her. But that wouldn’t have been kind of me. Though it would have fixed her momentary struggle, she would have been even sicker than when we got there. 

So we held her and I whispered in her ear, “I love you. I am here and I’m not going to leave you, but we cannot go home. We have to find out what is wrong.” She cried. I cried. In that moment, Jesus whispered to me, “I love you. I am here and I’m not going to leave you.” It was in that moment that I think I first understood how the Father’s heart breaks when mine does. He’s not calloused or impatient with my pain. He is my Father who is broken by my pain but understands it is not without purpose. I may not know that purpose in the moment, but he is for my ultimate good, not just to ease my momentary struggle. 

I wish I could say it was a short wait and we popped her into surgery with no trouble, but instead it was a long 18 hours of waiting, testing, prodding and praying. Because they didn’t know what was wrong, she was not able to eat or drink and that about killed me. To have my child begging me for a drink, just a sip of water and having to tell her “I’m sorry but no, we cannot at this time” about broke me. Again, she did not understand why I was saying no. She knows water is good for you. I tell her to drink it all the time, so why would I tell her “no” now? The times I do not understand why the Lord says no to good things is innumerable. But if I have learned anything this week, its that whatever he asks, whatever he tells me to do, whatever he withholds from me is for my good and His glory. 

Back to the story: after numbers not being right in her bloodwork and the ultrasound showing nothing, they decided on a CT scan. I had to force her to drink a big glass of juice with contrast in it. It was torture. She was screaming in pain and refusing to drink. I was pleading with her to drink but she couldn’t drink more than half the cup. At one point her pain was so intense I just sat and cried with her as she writhed in pain. Quietly to God I cried out to the Father, “Give me her pain! I’ll take 10 times what she is suffering so she doesn’t have to suffer for one more second.”

I tried to calm her with singing because Joy loves when I sing to her. I tried to sing, but all that came out were sobs and tears. So I put on worship music and let the words, “Shalom, shalom, shalom, you’re my peace” wash over us waiting for the morphine to kick in. She finally fell asleep as I continued to listen to worship music crying out to the Lord for answers. 

When the surgeon came to visit us a few hours later, he explained that Joy indeed had appendicitis and they would have to do surgery. She was scared, but we were there holding her hands right up to when they would put her under. 

I knew they would have to cut my baby open, but I knew it was for her good. There was infection that needed to be removed so that she could be healthy and whole. There is a difference between stabbing from a enemy and the skillful cuts of a surgeon. Pain is never easy to watch, but it can be an important thing. If Joy didn’t experience any pain, we wouldn’t have known she needed help. It was the pain that caused the doctors to keep searching for answers and eventually it was the pain the brought us to a place of healing. As much as I try to avoid pain and suffering, I see there is purpose in it. 

What a wild ride this has all been. I have learned so much about pain, suffering and most importantly the heavenly Father’s perfect love for his children, which is so much bigger, strong and greater than mine. Wherever you are, whatever you’re struggling with, I pray you will “grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ” (Ephesians 3:18).