The Power of Prayer, too

[Guest guest]

The story below was sent to me by a client who I represented for a

work injury. I had sent her my own little story on the adoption of

my children, knowing that she also had adopted children, only her

adoptions went through the process of foster parenting first. She

responded to my story with one of her own. After you get through the

long and sad litany of her physical problems, this story ends with

another story within the story...the Power of Prayer. The breath

inside the breath, if you will.

 

So many paths...one Holy Destination :-)

 

Love, Joyce

 

"Your child has four holes in her heart.""Your child has fetal alcohol

syndrome.""Your child has ADDHD.""Your child has epilepsy.""Your child

has central nervous system damage.""Your child has Dandy-Walker

variant and is mentally challenged."

What a sad little group of children. This is not a group. This is my

child. My beautiful, wonderful, loving, special daughter, Beth. Beth

came to me along with her sister Brittany on June 12, 1998. They has

been neglected and abandoned by their birth mother. I looked at these

two little girls and my heart just swelled. How can anybody neglect

his or her children? Especially ones so beautiful and charming. There

had to be a mistake.

"Don’t get attached to them, they’re only here for six

months. Their mother will be getting them back after she goes through

parenting classes," the social worker said. Little did we know what

would lie ahead for them or for us.Beth began exhibiting unusual

behavior at age two. She did not speak, she did not sleep. Beth shook

all the time. She began having seizures.

I took her to the pediatrician and he said that she odd behavior and

it was just a temper tantrum that she was throwing and holding of the

breath until she fainted. I knew he was wrong. We told the caseworker,

they sided with the doctor.Beth finally started to speak at the age of

three. It was jumbled uneven speech. I took her to a speech

therapist."This is age appropriate,’’ the therapist said.

I said they were wrong, the caseworker sided with them.Beth continued

to have the seizures and very bizarre behavior. She was walking into

walls. She was constantly falling. Her little body always looked

battered and bruised. Finally, one morning she woke up and

couldn’t stop crying and all she could say is "I am SAD."

I took her back the pediatrician and he said to take her for a

psychiatric evaluation. AHA! Finally we are getting somewhere.When I

took her for the evaluation the counselor said that they could not

help her, Beth at this time refused to talk. She would only mumble

and cry. I left there feeling as though I was the one going crazy and

nobody would help me. One day we were getting a physical at a new

pediatrician’s office. He listened carefully to her heart and

wanted me to take her for tests. There were many skipped heartbeats

and he wanted to see what was going on.

I took her, then I got the doctors report. Beth has four holes in her

heart. We had to take her to a specialist immediately. I had to get

permission from the agency we were dealing with. Finally they gave

their approval for her to see a specialist.Beth was born with a heart

defect called Atria Septal Defect. It was causing the blood to leave

her heart and go back into her lungs causing the lungs to become

damaged from too much oxygen rich blood. This is probably why she was

"fainting".She would have to be operated on immediately.

There was a new clinical trial available for her situation. The doctor

would cut a small incision into the groin area and put an Amplatzer

device into her heart that would open up and seal the holes. The

agency did not want to do this. They preferred that she have

open-heart surgery. I fought for her. I went to court and petitioned

the court for her to have this surgery. The judge was a kind man. He

explained that he had a 22-year-old son that had experimental

surgery. If it were not for that surgery his son would not be alive

today. I won.

Beth fully recovered. I thought the past was behind us. Beth’s

mother showed up one day after many long absences extending from one

to three months at a time. She forgot to tell us about Beth’s

birth defect. By this time Beth was with us for three years. After

three and a half years we were finally able to adopt the little

girls. Now I had the power to find out what was wrong. What I did not

know is that I didn’t have the power to fix it.

Beth continued to act strangely. She was still taking in jumbled

sentences. She has great difficulty in learning basic skills.

Mealtimes were a disaster with spilled milk and food thrown from one

end of the room to the other. Beth still couldn’t be potty

trained completely. I took her to Children’s Hospital of

Philadelphia. There they fully examined Beth.

Beth has fetal alcohol syndrome. According to her birth record she had

been born extremely jittery. The birthmother had a history of drug

abuse and had used every drug available to her while pregnant. The

hospital never tested Beth because no drugs were in the birth mother

when she delivered. Most likely Beth was going through withdrawal and

they failed to notice it.The specialist was a very sweet person. She

came to me and held me when she told me that Beth would never be all

right. She left me there for awhile while I cried. Her last words to

me were that Beth had an angel on her shoulder and now she has one to

take care of her.

An angel? I didn’t know the slightest thing about Fetal Alcohol

Syndrome. I did a great deal of research. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome

causes seizures. At last. I have documented proof. I took this to her

pediatrician. She immediately sent Beth to a neurologist. Beth went

through many extensive tests. She has epilepsy. She also has

essential tremors along with central nervous system damage. All of

this, because of drugs.

Beth was put on medication for her seizures and for her attention

deficit disorder. She began speaking in sentences.The neurologist

wanted a MRI of Beth’s brain. We had that done. The results

were even more devastating. Beth was born with Dandy-Walker variant.

Her brain had not fully developed. It explained the constant falling

but we had a new worry. Beth was a prime candidate for hydrocephalus.

She would have to be carefully watched.

At this time, she was in kindergarten. She still could not write her

name nor could she say her address or phone number. It could be the

fact that she has short-term memory loss.By this time, I was falling

apart. I had my own physical problems and now we had this devastating

blow to deal with. She went for more tests and we learned that she is

mildly mentally retarded.I had always believed in God. But this was

too much. If there really were a loving and wonderful God he would

not have done this. It was too much for one child to deal with. He

was cruel. I no longer believed. I didn’t want to go to church

anymore. I even failed to say prayers like I had been. I prayed all

the time for Beth and they were unanswered. He told me No and I was

angry. But then something happened….

My parents belong to a Methodist church and with much aggravation I

finally agreed to take Beth there. My father explained there is a

special prayer in which the elders of the church lay their hands upon

the sick and pray. I finally agreed. When I arrived at my

parent’s house, I told them how I felt about God and

everything. Instead of the anger I had expected from them I received

loving arms and they told me they understood. They just wanted me to

give God one more chance. I agreed but first bargained with him. I

wanted a sign. I wanted to believe but too many bad things have

happened and I was always told that he would never give us too much

to carry and this was too much.

We went to church. The pastor asked for us to come forward. My father

and I explained about Beth and we asked for the elders to come

forward and pray for her. The pastor had never met me nor did he talk

to my parents about me. He asked them to pray for my spiritual

healing. He said I had so much heartbreak that I really needed to be

helped. The prayer began…I started to cry. Tears that would not

stop. My head was spinning and it felt as though ten thousand pounds

were being lifted off of me. I looked up during the prayers. The

elders were supposed to be there. Where were they? I couldn’t

see them because the entire congregation has left their seats and

came forward. They all were praying. Not silent prayers either. It

was mothers of children begging God to help this little girl and her

mother. Fathers asking God to show me the way so that I might be able

to help my daughter. After the prayer was over we went home. I felt so

unsure about everything that had happened. I asked God for a sign but

surely a group of people caught up in prayer wasn’t it. I felt

defeated.

I was sitting at my desk one week later and feeling very alone. The k

ids were coming home again and Beth would have papers crammed into

her tiny little fists that were filled with loving corrections from

her teacher and I would have to help her try and understand what she

did wrong. Well, in they came and in came wrinkled up papers. I

looked at them wishing to put it off until later but Beth wanted it

done immediately. I looked. I looked again. On the top of

Beth’s paper was written in the most beautiful writing that a

mother has ever seen was ELIZABETH MARY HOWELL. Beth had written her

name! She not only wrote her name but told me her address and phone

number also. She didn’t have any help. She did it on her own. I

looked into those beautiful brown eyes of hers and whispered, "But

Beth you did have help."

Whenever I feel very anxious or depressed I bring out that piece of

wrinkled up paper and I look at it and I thank God for everything. I

thank him for the little girl that brought me back to him; I thank

him for all the people that prayed for her that day. I know that Beth

will never be totally fine but I do know that she is in God’s

hands and all this time he really has been watching over us. After

all, he gave me a sign.