‘But If Not’ 10-16-2020

There really are not words to describe the pain that is felt within the heart of a mother when she is told her child could be very sick. The emotions that follow, the tightening of the chest, the wave of fear, the lack of control…. it cannot be put into words in any way adequate to what the soul is truly experiencing.

We rushed our sweet Savannah to the ER last night with a high fever and abdominal pain, sure that it was appendicitis. A CT scan revealed that her RT kidney was severely infected and that an abscess on the Kidney had been found. To our relief, her appendix looked fine and our little girl would not be rushed into surgery. After discussion with her ER doctor, it was decided that a consult with the children’s hospital would be wise to see if further analyzing or treatment for the abscess would be needed.

I sat there next to her ER bed with such relief that I wouldn’t have to watch them wheel her away for surgery or help her heal from those wounds. I was anxious to bring her home, give her the necessary medications to help her heal, snuggle, drink hot chocolate and get her better.

Just a few hours prior to entering the ER, Brannick and I were spending some much needed time away for our Anniversary in beautiful Yellowstone when an early morning mother’s gut instinct told me we needed to return home early. Savannah had been experiencing some back pain and stomach pain, but it was easily pushed aside and blamed on missing her momma or backed up bowels. Communication with those taking care of her didn’t raise huge concern so we stayed. But, we knew when we woke up Tuesday morning that we needed to go home.

The Emergency room Doctor returned and informed us that Savannah would need to be transferred up to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City to have her CT read by the Radiologist there. It was possible that the abscess would need to be drained but antibiotics would be started and she was going to be ok. Tired from days drive and long ER wait, I was content to get her moved and get all of us the rest that we needed.

The ER at the Children’s Hospital was empty at such an early time of morning. We arrived around 12:30am where she was checked in with a fever of 105.3. She was so tough and so brave and so tired. Again, we waited. When the ER doctor came in, it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. Savannah was in deep sleep and Brannick and I were so tired and anxious to get her admitted and settled into her hospital bed. I don’t recall his name, or even much of what he looked like but I do remember exactly what his voice sounded like. I am not sure I will ever forget the sound of his voice. He informed us that the radiologist had reviewed her CT and had found no abscess on her Kidney. Yes, there was indeed a large amount of infection on and around her Kidney but there would be no need for the draining of an abscess. I looked at Brannick and we both sighed in premature relief. I asked how soon we could get her moved to a room so she could settle and I immediately knew that something was wrong. His body language. His eyes behind the mask.. The tone of his voice. “There is no abscess, but the radiologist did find a large mass in Savannah’s abdomen along her spine behind her RT kidney. The most likely diagnosis at this point is a Neuroblastoma.” I gasped in my mask and I could not hold back the tears. I knew that word. I know what that means. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Brannick held my hand and we both tried to listen as shock set in. “We will need to admit her to the Oncology floor. A team of Oncologists and Surgeons will review her case and meet with you tomorrow morning. I am so sorry.”

Then, he left. What more could he say? We sat there in her dark room, listening only to the sound of the hum and beeping of her IV machine. The clock ticked quietly reading 2:32 am. Neither of us knew what to say. We just cried and we held each other tighter than perhaps we ever had before. The ache inside was deep, and unfamiliar. I sobbed in his arms, that horrible sound of the screaming of my soul from deep inside. I let go of Brannick for just a brief moment and looked at him, ‘Neuroblastoma, we know what that is. How? What did I miss? Why did I push her so hard? She was actually in pain, and I didn’t listen to her. How are we going to do this?” Brannick looked at me with such a deep sadness. His tears were just a small expression of the ache he was truly feeling. “Nothing, nothing else matters right now. We will do this together and we will get through this no matter what comes tomorrow.”

It seemed like we sat there in that cold hospital room for hours. We took turns crying. There was no solace. Numbness and exhaustion quickly took over. The nurses came in and out but didn’t make eye contact. What do you say to parents who just received such horrible news? Once her room was ready, Brannick wheeled her bed down halls, around corners, in and out of elevators, as if pushing her bed was the only thing he had control over, the only thing he could do in that moment for his baby girl. The doors to the Oncology Unit opened and we walked into a whole new world.

The nurses already knew our names. Savannah’s name was already up on white boards and written outside her room. Again, the tears flowed for both of us as we tried to digest the reality that we were walking down the halls of the Oncology floor where little, beautiful souls were fighting for their lives. Sleeping on uncomfortable chairs and couches were so many mom’s and dad’s with their little ones who, at some point, had that horrible first moment of being told their child was very sick. My heart ached for them as we passed each room. We got Savannah settled. Held each other tight for just a few more minutes, kissed my baby girls forehead and then I left. I walked as quickly as I could down those halls. I felt it coming as I entered the elevator. I just needed to breath. Once out the front doors I pulled off my mask and cried. I climbed into my car and cried as I made the 40 minute drive home to pack our bags and kiss my little man goodbye.

I loaded the bags in the car at 6:30am and headed back to the hospital where we would meet with her new Oncology team in just a few hours. As I made that drive alone, in the dark and quiet, a talk from General Conference years ago given by Brother Dennis Simmons, popped into my head. ‘But if not.’ In this talk, he profoundly speaks of the trials and challenges that we are called upon to endure in our lives and reminds us that a loving Heavenly Father will not suffer us to be tempted beyond our ability to withstand.

“We must understand that great challenges make great men. We don’t seek tribulation, but if we respond in faith, the Lord strengthens us. The ‘but if not’s’ can become remarkable blessings.”

“Men accomplish marvelous things by trusting in the Lord and keeping His commandments – by exercising faith even when they don’t now how the Lord is shaping them.”

“Our scriptures are replete with accounts of God’s great men and women who believed that He would deliver them, BUT IF NOT, they demonstrated that they would trust and be true.”

“He has the power, but it’s our test.”

‘What does the Lord expect of us with respect to our challegnes? He expects us to do all we can do. He does the rest. Nephi said, “For we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.”

“Our God will deliver us from ridicule and persecution, But IF NOT. … Our God will deliver us from sickness and disease, BUT IF NOT … . He will deliver us from loneliness, depression, or fear, BUT IF NOT. … Our God will deliver us from threats, accusations, and insecurity, BUT IF NOT. … He will deliver us from death or impairment of loved ones, BUt IF NOT, … we will trust in the Lord.”

“Our God will see that we receive justice and fairness, BUT IF NOT. … He will make sure that we are loved and recognized, BUT IF NOT. … We will receive a perfect companion and righteous and obedient children, BUT IF NOT, … we will have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, knowing that if we do all we can do, we will, in His time and in His way, be delivered and receive all that He has.”

Those 3 words just kept running through my mind as I drove back to the hospital.

Please God, please let this be anything but Cancer… BUT IT NOT…

Please guide the hands of her surgeons, protect her spine from injury…. BUT IF NOT…

Please heal her…. BUT IF NOT…….

I walked back into her hospital room and Brannick wrapped him arms around me. He looked me in the eyes and he said this, “Listen to me, this is going to be ok. We know the outcome that we want. We are praying that this is benign….. BUT IF NOT….. We know that we are an eternal family and that no matter what, no matter the outcome, we will be ok.”

Tears escaped my eyes once more as I whispered back to him…’But if not’

Thank you God for holding us. Thank you for guiding us to the doctors who knew how to find this growth that does not belong. Thank you for the nurses. The smiling eyes of strangers. Thank you for those at home taking care of our other young child. Thank you for knowledge that we are not alone and that miracles surround us in big and little ways. We have seen and felt the hand of God in this, we pray for big miracles…. but it not…. our faith and our trust is in your plan for us.

But if not…… He is still good.