“It’s Gonna Be Ok”

Entry from October 17, 2020

Nothing could have prepared us. There was no warning. There was no sign marking the path telling us what was waiting for us around the corner. Savannah is healthy. She is strong. She is brave. She is happy. She is kind. She is friendly. She is grateful and she Loves Jesus. Ever since she was a little girl, she has had a strong spirit, a tender connection to heaven. She asks big questions, deep soul searching questions, at such a tender age. We have always said that she came strong but we never talked about why. Could this be it?

She continued to run a high fever through the night but we have been reassured that the IV medications will soon help with that. Waking up in the hospital was a surprise for her. She wasn’t quite sure why she was here or where she even was. But, it was only a matter of minutes before we had one of the amazing child life specialists from the hospital in our room bringing gifts and crafts and asking questions so she could better know and serve our child. Vannah has always had the gift of making friends easily and here in the hospital, it was no different.

Brannick and I had a sleepless night. Our minds had no time to rest before what we knew would be coming. The Oncology team would meet and discuss Savannah’s case and then would come and meet with us. When we were told she had a team, I had no idea what that meant until I watched them gather outside her hospital room. There were 6 of them. They stood in a circle and talked for nearly an hour. I was moved to tears with the realization that it was my little girl that they stood and discussed. They each brought their expertise and knowledge to the table for the benefit of our Savannah. There are no words to describe what we felt as we witnessed this gathering.

When they entered our room, they were gentle and kind. They were aware of the sensitivity of our aching hearts and they gathered around our sleeping baby girl with such tender kindness. After introductions they confronted the mass, showing us the images of the CT scan we had seen the night before where they had previously suspected an abscess on the Kidney. It was then, in that fragile moment that the doctor pointed to the screen and showed us where the mass was. It was huge. I cried as I studied the image and could see it’s foreign tissue invading her little body, pushing up against her spine, squeezing into un-invited areas. How it was missed, we do not know but what we do know is that there were a lot of little steps, steps we like to call miracles, that led us to where we were right in that moment. The mass was found and now we can move forward in finding out what he is and what he is doing there.

The mass measures 8 x 3.5 x 4cm. It’s ugly and it makes me want to scream. How long has it been growing? What could have caused it? If it is Cancer, why hasn’t she had any other symptoms? Is it hurting her? Where do we go from here?

We talked about the hard things. The possibilities. What this might be. A list was written on the wall of the 4 things this could be. But it would take time to get the answers. Surgery would have to be postponed until her body had healed of the infection. A biopsy would be discussed. A chest CT and MRI to check for other areas of concern. Labwork and medical history would be gathered. We would have to continue to wait.

My heart is breaking. It is a pain like nothing I have ever experienced before. A complete lack of control. I can’t fix it. I can’t take it away. I can’t change what lies ahead for her. I just have to trust. I have to rely on my faith. I have to believe in miracles. I have to see her strength. Be her strength.

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They took our Savannah for an MRI to give us better imaging. It was that first gut wrenching feeling of having to let them take her and leave us behind. But Savannah was excited and ready for the adventure. She waved goodbye to us and sent us on our way. In the quiet short minutes that followed, Brannick and I found ourselves sitting in her hospital bed surrounded by silence. It was the first quiet moment we had together since the ER the night before. We sat there holding hands, processing the emotions that followed the discussion with the Oncology team. And then we prayed. We prayed with longing, with humility, with pleading hearts for our little girl to be ok. Together, in that hospital bed, we felt peace. Right now, it hurts. Right now, we ask why? We wonder. We wait. But we know, it’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok. We will deal with whatever comes in the days ahead because it’s gonna be ok…. It’s gonna be ok!

My heart is breaking, in a way I never thought it could.

My mind is racing, with a question, are you still good?

Can you make something from the wreckage?

Would you take this heart and make it whole again?

Though the mountains may be moved into the sea.

Though the ground beneath may crumble and give way.

I can hear my Father singing over me,…

Its gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.

I’ve blamed myself, and if I’m being honest, maybe I’ve blamed you too.

You would not forsake me, cause only good things come from you.

From beginning to the end, your so close.

You have never let me down, and you won’t.

In the valleys, in the shadows, I know

Your so close! Your so close!

Though the mountains may be moved into the sea.

Though the ground beneath may crumble and give way.

I can hear my Father singing over me….

It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.

It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.

I’m gonna be ok. I’m gonna be ok.”

Tasha Layton ‘Into the Sea’ (It’s gonna be ok)