A Bleb that Burst

I got the call  from the school nurse Tuesday morning around 8:00.  Just an hour earlier I told my eldest child (age 16) to have a good day at school, and off he went to the bus stop.  I had lots of plans for the day, and I headed out to the garden right after he left so I could beat the heat and get some planting and weeding done.   I surveyed the bed, overgrown with various weeds, and dropped to my knees.  I smiled, thinking how much I enjoy gardening, even just pulling weeds, and how it gives me some quiet time to be with God. I remembered a few people I had intended to pray for and offered my time kneeling in the garden for their intentions and for anyone else who might need prayer. My husband called out that he was leaving for work, so I popped in the house for a few minutes, then went back to work in the yard.  About 10 minutes later, I heard the phone ringing, so I dashed to the house.  I picked up on the third ring, and the voice on the other end introduced herself as the school nurse. She explained that my son was experiencing chest pain on the right side and that I should come pick him up.

When I arrived at the school, the nurse talked about anxiety or the possibility of pneumothorax, a collapsed lung, as the source of the chest pain.  A visit to the pediatrician increased the suspicion for pneumothorax, which was then confirmed by chest x-ray.  We went to the Emergency Room next.  I must say, all of the staff at the hospital were fantastic.  They were expecting us when we arrived and explained everything in detail.

A wonderful physician assistant explained what pneumothorax is and how it happens.  She drew a sketch to help explain what happened to his lung and how the condition is treated.  She said that some people (particularly young, tall, thin white males like my son) have "blebs" on their lungs which are like blisters.  They can be there for years and never cause a problem.  Sometimes, though, a bleb will burst, causing air to leak into the chest cavity and the lung to collapse.  The initial treatment is a chest tube inserted between the ribs.  The tube is attached to suction which removes the air from the chest cavity so the lung can refill and heal.

When she left, a child life professional (a sort of counselor) talked to my son, making sure he was calm and comfortable with each part of his care in the Emergency Room.   She reiterated that he would be awake for the procedures, including an IV, numbing and relaxing medicine, a small incision, and then the insertion of the tube.  Yes, he would be conscious for the whole procedure, though the medication would make it likely that he may forget parts of it.

The pediatric surgeon and his team came next.  They reviewed the procedure again, telling my son about what was happening and how they would take care of him.  Everything seemed to move quickly after that.

First, the nurse inserted an IV for fluids and medication. When it was time for the chest tube insertion, I was able to stay with him and hold his hands.  In fact, I needed to hold his hands to keep him from moving during the procedure. A whole team entered the tiny space. The facility is a teaching hospital, so students, residents, and an attending surgeon were all there.  The site for the chest tube was then cleaned and draped to keep it sterile.

The child life professional stayed with us throughout the procedure, talking to my son and making sure he understood what was happening.  She also kept him distracted as needed to permit the doctors to complete their work.

When he seemed to get nervous or feel pain, I brought my face close to his, held tightly to his hands and prayed the "Hail Mary" aloud.  He calmed immediately, and I felt the protection of Our Lady wrapping her mantle around us both.  When the tube was in place, a burst of air released from the chest cavity, causing the lung to refill.  This moment was frightening.  He began to cough violently.  I got dizzy as I held tighter to his hands so he wouldn't flail as the doctors taped and secured the tube.  I scanned the faces in the room and locked eyes with the physician assistant.  She reassured me that his response was normal, but I still felt woozy.  The nurse brought me some orange juice.  She held the cup as I sipped through a straw, still holding my boy's hands for dear life.  I looked at the spot where the tube was inserted and realized it was very near to the spot where "one of the soldiers pierced [Jesus'] side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water" (John 19:34, RSV).  I united my little suffering, of dizziness and concern for my son, to Mary's suffering at Jesus' Passion.

As a Catholic, who just celebrated Pentecost this past weekend, the Holy Spirit was clearly on my mind.  I thought of the dry bones in Ezekiel 37:1-14, especially when the Lord instructed to "Prophesy to the spirit, prophesy son of man, and say to the spirit, 'Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O spirit, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live'" (Ez 37:8).  I thanked God for the gift of breath as my son's lungs filled, that he may live.

He was admitted to the hospital and moved to a room a little while after the procedure.

The next morning, one of our dear Friars from our Franciscan parish came to administer the sacrament of Anointing of the Sick to my son.  Many friends and family are praying for his healing.  The "prayer cover" has helped us all to maintain a sense of calm and trust in the care of the medical professionals during this time.  As of Wednesday evening, he still had a leak, requiring the continued use of suction to remove the leaking air.  By Thursday morning, the suction was removed, but x-rays still show a small hole and leak in the lung.

We are hoping that Friday will bring him home with the hole sealed and healed.  It's in God's hands, though, and in His time, not ours.  We do not know God's plan or how He will use this suffering.  Already, it has given us an opportunity to recognize how precious each life is.  It has given us an opportunity to ask for prayers from friends and family, uniting us in ways that we miss when everyone is healthy and going about their regular daily business.

Come Holy Spirit, Come. Breathe on us, Breath of God.

Have You Picked a Name for the Baby?

As a mother of four on earth and two in heaven, one of the first thoughts that went through my head after each positive pregnancy test was, “What shall we name you, little one?”  Before the morning sickness kicked in, I was already considering a number of boy and girl names for my children.  My husband and I would sit together in the living room many nights considering names. We considered possible nicknames, how the names would sound with our last name, family members with the same name, and especially patron saints.  I had a rather skinny book of baby names that listed the origin and meaning of the names.  The secular book was useful, but because choosing a good Christian name was of particular importance to us we needed to supplement our discernment by cross-checking names with books of saints.

A new book by Patrice Fagnant MacArthur, The CatholicBaby Name Book, (Ave Maria Press 2013) would have made my research easier!  This 526-page treasure provides information on “more than 10,000 names.”  Patrice is a personal friend of mine, but even if I didn’t know her, she speaks so intimately to the reader in the Introduction to The Catholic Baby Name Book that I sense the love that went into this project.  She writes, “I had the chance to research thousands of names and to read and write the biographies of more than 3,500 saints! I said yes to the project with no idea how I would ever accomplish the huge task in front of me.”  Patrice describes her research process and then explains how to use the book. 

The book is divided into alphabetical listings of boys’ names and girls’ names.  Each name entry includes cross references to names of the same origin, for example: Elizabeth is cross-referenced with Alizabeth, Eliabeth, Eliza, Helsa,  Lizette, and other variations.  The variations all have line entries that include a notation to see the saint name for the detailed description and biography. Likewise, if a name applies to both genders, the reference indicates which section of the book to check for the entry. The entries tell whether the name is that of a saint or virtue, or if it’s from the Old or New Testament.  When a name is common to multiple saints, their names are listed.  The entries also include the meaning of the name, the language of origin, and whether the name is designated as one of the “Top 100 Names.”

The appendices include “Recently Canonized Saints” (from 1982-2012), “Top 100 Names,” and “Most Popular Names by Decade” in reverse order from the 2000s to the 1960s.  If you’re seeking a unique name or a more traditional name with a distinctive spelling, The Catholic Baby Name Book will take you from Aaren to Zytka.  And in a few years, when your little one asks, “What does my name mean?” or “How did you choose my name?” you can show them the entry for their name in The Catholic Baby Name Book.  

Life in Prison, not the Death Penalty

When I saw that Kermit Gosnell would not seek an appeal and that he would likely receive life in prison rather than the death penalty for murdering babies born alive after attempted abortions, I was relieved.  How could I call myself pro-life and want the death penalty for anyone, even a serial killer?  I mourn the loss of all aborted children.  I pray for healing for their mothers.  I pray for healing for the clinic workers and doctors.

Abby Johnson addresses those "Christian pro-lifers" who say Kermit Gosnell doesn't deserve to breathe the same air they breathe.  They are wrong!  God is the only one who can decide who is worthy, not us.  Johnson says, "I know some will say, “but you repented, that is the difference.” But what if I hadn’t…not yet. What if I was still inside the abortion industry? What if I was still an accomplice to murder? What if it took me longer to realize the truth? Do I deserve to die? Are we saying repentance is about our timing? Certainly, it is not about us. It about God and His perfect timing."

Read Abby Johnson's article here.

Another Family's Struggle with ADHD

I just read an article by Karee Santo on CatholicLane.com that many of my readers will appreciate: Finally Finding Focus: Our ADHD Story.  Karee begins, "I didn’t use to believe in medication for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).  Truth be told, I didn’t used to believe in ADHD at all."  Sounds familiar!  

Karee makes an important point about recognizing her daughter's needs as an individual and advocating for her daughter with both the school and the doctors to get the medication she needed.  

Spiritual Woman: The Catholic Baby Name Book has Arrived!

My dear friend's book is available for purchase!  Names that reflect one's faith are beautiful gifts which are the honor of the parents to bestow on their children.  If you or someone you know is expecting a child, this book offers descriptions of over 10,000 Catholic Baby names. Read more at Spiritual Woman!

Spiritual Woman: The Catholic Baby Name Book has Arrived!: Ave Maria Press sent me my first copy of The Catholic Baby Name Book . They did such a wonderful job of putting this together. At 527 page...

Prayers for Boston Marathon Spectators and Participants

Two years ago, my husband qualified for, ran, and finished the Boston Marathon. He had run three marathons before Boston, and I had always been with him at the start and waiting for him at the finish.  I remember feeling so uneasy waiting for him to pass through the finish line at Boston.  The crowd was beyond anything I could have imagined.  My children and I paced back and forth around the corner from Boylston St. since we couldn't get close enough to see him finish.  We had arranged a meeting point near the buses that contained the gear the runners left on the buses in the morning since the race is "point to point," and we weren't at the start of the race with him.  I had such a feeling of disconnect and worry that day. When we found one another after he finished, I was so relieved.  He had run hard and had to sit down, but he seemed relieved, too, to have completed his goal.

Today in Boston, an act of senseless violence has marred the historic Boston Marathon.  A homemade bomb exploded close the the finish line about 4 hours into the race. The race today honored the 26 victims at Newtown, Connecticut.  Now, Boston has its own victims.  Two are confirmed dead and at least two dozen are injured.  Reporters mentioned that many had severed limbs.  As I flipped between the networks, watching the explosion over and over, the emergency workers and other citizens coming to the aid of the injured, tears streamed down my face.  I sobbed for a good 20 minutes, trying to make sense of it all.  I saw the images of the street I had walked with my young children two years ago.  I heard reports that children were injured.  I watched footage of runners finishing, others falling as debris from the blast struck them.  I worried for their safety.  I also thought like a runner and the wife of a runner--How would runners find their families? What did runners know who were still out on the course? And basic things like, would they be able to finish?  No, the race was over.

Boston is the big show: the Superbowl of Marathons.  Runners must qualify to race the Boston Marathon.  They train for months, even years, to get there.  Not everyone finishes in 2:30 hours like the elites.  At around four hours into the race when the bomb went off, about half of the runners were still on the course.  The athletes came to finish their race, but a senseless act of violence ruined their moment.

As I write, I don't know the motivation of the bomber, though reports indicate someone is in custody. I pray for those who lost their lives and the many who were injured in the explosion.  I wonder what our world has become when people aren't safe at a foot race.  God help us all.

And My Life Was Never the Same...Praise God!

Sixteen years ago I gave birth to my first child.  The beginning of the pregnancy included a scare.  Just one month into our marriage, Mike took me to the ER since I was experienceing severe abdominal pain.  We found out over the course of a few hours that I was pregnant, but that the pregnancy may be ectopic. As the tests were inconclusive, I was sent home for "two days of bed rest," but didn't make it 24 hours.  I returned by ambulance the next day, followed by emergency surgery. When the doctor administered the anesthesia, I had no idea whether I'd be pregnant when I woke.  I had spent the previous night in tears and prayer.

A couple weeks later, just as I healed from surgery, the morning sickness kicked in.  I lost about 15 pounds in the first trimester.  I feared for the health of the baby, but felt like a baby myself because I could barely walk across a room or cook a meal without holding onto something.  I was weak, but God had a plan.

The queasy months were a sign of a healthy pregnancy.  The baby grew.  We found out we were having a boy, and we gave him a name when he was still in the womb.  I talked to him a lot.  I was finishing graduate school, so as a "belly rider" (my husband coined that term for the child in the womb, and it always makes me smile), my growing infant attended class with me.  He and I shared secret moments as he fluttered, kicked, and squirmed while I was learning Discourse Theory or studying Working Class literature.

After a tumultuous beginning to my pregnancy, my husband and I grew closer to God and to one another as we prayed a daily rosary for the health of our unborn baby.  Eight months to the day after the surgery, I held a healthy 8-pound baby boy in my arms.  And my life was never the same.