The first time I got to hold her was on Mother’s Day weekend, six days after she was born. That was for only five minutes. The rest of the time she was in an incubator, with no sound or light disturbance and the constant administration of food and meds.
On the eighth day of her life, Ryleigh was placed in complete isolation, with a blanket over the top of her incubator to seal out the light. Introducing her to the world was not working well. The new plan was to re-create womblike conditions for our little girl in every possible way and hope she would be able to continue developing. The hospital reconfigured Ryleigh’s little physical world as much as possible to make it vanish from her perception, returning her to a close approximation of the darkness and warmth of womb life.
In spite of all the tubes, we posted pictures of her online and asked for prayer warriors all over the world to step up for us. We had already seen what they had done for me during my own hospital stay, and only hoped that something miraculous could happen again with our precious baby girl.
We didn’t ask for people to petition God to change his plans on our behalf. We simply asked for prayers directing strength to Ryleigh. Please, Lord our God, allow our tiny daughter, Ryleigh, to draw a good breath, and then another, and then another. Allow her heart to beat strong in her chest.
We who are broken, we who are filled with flaws, we who sometimes seem to resist the better parts of our nature for no reason but human stubbornness, nevertheless become forces to reckon with when we humbly join hands and hearts. In our limited human way, like a series of batteries that each hold a tiny charge but together can deliver lightning, we call down the great reservoir of God’s healing force.
I will never have words of greater thanks, greater awestruck gratitude, than when I tell you we watched Ryleigh begin to improve. Doctors were hopeful but puzzled; she was too premature and too underdeveloped to thrive, yet she began to do just that.
The breathing tube was switched out for a less invasive CPAP breathing device, and after a couple more days they were able to remove that too. We were overjoyed, even though it didn’t appear to make medical sense. Ryleigh was months away from her due date. Her lungs shouldn’t have been able to take over the way they did, but we watched it happen before our eyes.
We posted more pictures of her and received massive outpourings of loving support and kindness. Even those who don’t believe prayer can help others at a great distance could see how much all the expressions of love and concern sustained me. That also went for Chris, our parents, and all the doctors and nurses who made it their business to give this girl a chance at life. It was a tonic for the spirit to gladden the heart.
Many parents know that waiting for a child to recover is the same as waiting on your own recovery. Everything else stops except for this one life. All distractions of the world fall away in importance. They exist all around but without connection to you.
Chris spent most of his time at the hospital with me, but whenever he had to go deal with other things, I sat next to Ryleigh’s crib. There was nothing to do but wait and watch. The old demon of helplessness tiptoed into the room and took a seat next to me. What a sterling job this demon does in the way it uses frustration and despair to isolate us from God and from our confidence in God’s plan for us.
The helplessness was as familiar as an old friend and as ugly as an old bully. It conjured up all my past fears and my loathing of being caught in another disastrous situation where the deepest concerns in this life are threatened but where I can have little or no effect on the outcome. Who doesn’t hate that?
The first two weeks of Ryleigh’s touch-and-go life were an emotional roller coaster, but my little family was able to pull together through it, and in the long run I think we can’t ask for much more. We don’t seek to be spared life’s troubles; we seek to rise through them with our faith intact.
Since the wonderful company Chris worked for allowed him to take time off, not only was I spared his absence at a time when I needed him so much but we were also able to keep more of a balance in our time with Noah as well as with Ryleigh. Noah had been so patient and supportive, especially for such a young boy, and it was important to keep him in the loop and in our immediate concerns. Noah’s own relatively positive experience with the hospitals in Houston and Boston, and his observations of how the doctors helped my recovery, gave him the tools he needed to stay positive amid all the trauma.
We were at the hospital from morning until night, and I usually went home around ten o’clock each evening. Some nights we couldn’t bring ourselves to leave. Chris and I sat with Noah and ate takeout meals outside Ryleigh’s room, even when we couldn’t do anything to help her. There was no way we could walk off and leave her to fight for life all alone.
We were also able to have some ordinary bonding time with Noah because of the extraordinary care of our nurses. Not only were they completely skilled in their care efforts but they were also exemplary in their compassion toward us and toward Ryleigh. As my nurses in Boston had done for me, these people clearly made it their personal mission to give this little girl her best chance at life.
You recall those important five minutes of Dangle Time each day when my leg and foot sutures were new? Even such great elation and relief paled next to the technicolor joy of being allowed to hold Ryleigh on Mother’s Day for that same five-minute time span. She had been kept alive by our genius doctors and highly skilled nurses, and I also believe the intercession of our blessed prayer warriors helped her remain in this world with us. The medical odds appeared stacked against her on every front, for a while there, but she did not decline. Instead Ryleigh began gaining strength.
Throughout this time, Noah’s patience was tested. But he showed the ability to understand that our focus had to be on Ryleigh for now. He was already looking ahead to being a big brother. Our shared experience in recovery had put him on board with this in a manner I would expect from a grown man.
In such moments, I saw that Noah’s sense of the preciousness of life had been amplified by the Boston experience. I made it a point to tell him how proud I was of him, and I could see that it mattered to him to hear that. If we could get Ryleigh well enough to come home with us, she was going to have a great older brother to show her the ropes.
At last, fully three weeks after Ryleigh’s birth, the doctors changed her ICU status to “feeder-grower.” Can I tell you how welcome those two words were to us? Our tiny preemie, fighting for life since her first breath, was feeding and growing instead of fading away, having gained over a pound. It’s a huge distinction for a preemie to reach that stage, because the physical functions of sucking, swallowing, and breathing are the hardest for the premature human body to get going. The difficulties can combine to cause a failure to thrive.
One doctor spoke of the “lightbulb moment” they often see in those preemies who manage to make it out of the ICU and begin to eat without the help of a feeding tube. At a certain point the struggling little body appears to just fire up, like a light coming on. A flare of energy rises in the child, and this new life begins to thrive.
And so Ryleigh joined in with all of the other new feeder-growers in the world who were being cared for at that moment. They may not have had time to get organized yet, but they were already busy composing the next generation. For her, and for all of them, the light was on. This world’s air, light, and food had only made her falter, not fall. My family will always be grateful for the kindness, the compassion, and the attentive energy of all those who prayed for Ryleigh. Your testimony exists in her presence here.
Finally, we began getting ready to take her home.
Her last test before being officially released was for our little family to all stay together overnight in the hospital’s transition room. Ryleigh’s vital signs remained stable and her little light never flickered. She was ready to give it a try with her people, at home.
Okay, maybe this is a coincidence, and maybe it’s not. Ryleigh was in the hospital for twenty-s
ix days: the number of miles in a marathon. It represented everything we want for her: stamina and perseverance. We took it as Ryleigh’s personal announcement of determination, coming from a very small flame who refused to go out.
Conclusion
Happy Continuations
I began this book by describing my story as a spiritual journey. This story traces the growth and development of one struggling soul. In describing where I have come from and where I yet hope to go, I am determined to walk the journey of a Christian woman in America, where not only our faith but also the values supporting that faith are under heavy and persistent attack.
Human nature being what it is, we are a mix of good and bad, and everyone around us is too. No matter what church we join, we find ourselves surrounded by the walking wounded.
There have always been pretenders whose faith was no reflection of their identity behind closed doors. And people of faith are under attack from both unbelievers outside the church and hypocrites within the community.
One valuable lesson I have managed to learn is to forget the dream of a happy ending. We focus too much on happy endings. Why focus on what ends? In our house these days, we go for happy continuations.
When my spirits are low, I am still capable of doubting everything I do. It is then that my relationship with Christ calls me back to the things that matter most in my life and always will, no matter what: being a mom to my son and daughter, a loving wife to my husband, and an active member of my family. The stability I find there centers me in the greater stability of the Lord. It’s my skeleton, holding me up.
I don’t hear an audible voice speaking to me in answer to my prayers, like you might in a Hollywood movie. Nevertheless, I feel a silent pull: strong, compelling as gravity itself. It keeps me focused when I would otherwise be lost. God doesn’t solve problems for me like a magical servant. What he does is far greater. He puts strength back into my legs when they would otherwise fail me. He deflects despair. He protects me from the terrors of struggling alone. He shows me a smoother path.
So a bomb explodes and changes your life. Simply by taking place, the event serves as a stark reminder of the ticking clock we all carry. My story, and your story if this book speaks to you, is one of a spiritual arc, extending over time. These arcs stretch from wherever each life begins to wherever it will end. All along each arc, strength rises and falls with the challenges that lead us either closer to Christ or away from him. We each have our own story. We can choose our reactions to daily challenges, but they will never stop coming.
For me, as one Christian woman, mother, and wife, neither the extreme conformity of OPD nor the clench of internal stress can consume me if I pull my fears out of the way and allow that space to be filled with God’s love. Of course, distractions are always present. I don’t have any special method for dealing with them other than to stop myself as soon as I notice that I’m off course and then reset my personal focus. I pray for patience and for strength and suit up to play again. Rinse and repeat.
People ask me what my secret is. Anyone who tries to follow Jesus already knows that “the secret” isn’t a piece of information. It’s trust. It’s trusting that God has control. It’s growing in my faith even as I face obstacles. It’s asking myself how Jesus would ask me to look at life.
As a Christian, I believe this perspective is available to anyone who seeks it. It will filter out all of the distractions and guide our journey to becoming the person God wants us to be. There is no secret to it.
I got to this point in life by the power of the Holy Spirit and after being forced to learn how to care for myself in spite of an inner narrative that assured me of failure. Repairing my body wouldn’t have had much point if my spirit couldn’t have thrived. The power of Christ alone sustained my strength. It enabled me to do my best in situations when I otherwise would have fallen down.
Today, when I meet people who tell me about feeling various forms of darkness in their lives, I focus on asking what is covering their light. Sometimes that darkness can remind us to tend to our souls. If we do that with conviction, the truth we share will resonate with others, perhaps many others.
As for life’s misfortunes, I don’t look to my relationship with Christ to keep misfortune away or to protect me from tragedy above anyone else. But I have already found, so many times, that this thing we Christians call salvation allows me peaceful confidence. We stand assured of love and existence beyond the physical limits of our lives. The more I pray on that, the less compulsive I feel.
When I speak of taking my life back, I am not referring to a specific end point. The end of this book is not the ending of my story, and my journey isn’t over. It’s just that I have this uncovered light, now, because I see the effects of its presence all through my journey of recovery.
I wonder if it’s the same “lightbulb moment” as when life flares in a struggling premature baby. The light calls to me. My ambition is to share it to the great benefit of others.
I clearly understand how much has been done for me and my family by kind people who also allow that light to guide them. When we look back at the people in our lives who did or said things that truly stuck with us in Christlike ways, my experience is that these are moments when they were letting their inner lights shine.
We keep one another afloat with moments of rejoicing. Fellowship can take place in a passing exchange between strangers just as well as in a hall full of the faithful. For me, that goal is the bull’s-eye of my personal target: live today and each day as a happy continuation. The light that guides me is the simple secret to how I took my life back.
I wish nothing less for you.
Acknowledgments
From Rebekah
When I was ten years old, I made myself a promise that by my thirtieth birthday I would write a book and have it published. Writing has always been my outlet, even from a young age. Of course, back then I didn’t have the slightest clue what it took to actually write a book, let alone the process for it to appear on bookstore shelves.
Now that promise has been made a reality, and there are so many people to thank for making it possible. So in no particular order, here we go. Thank you to:
My parents. It has been a long, hard road, and both of you have stuck by my side through everything. I hope that by doing this I have made you proud. That is all I have ever set out to do, even though I have failed at it many times. Thank you for your unconditional love and for instilling in me God’s love and faithfulness.
My husband, Christopher Keith. Without your unwavering support I never would have had the courage to finish this book. You keep me going daily, and I am so proud to be your wife. Thank you for rescuing me from myself and showing me the greatest love I have ever known. I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to share this life with you and raise our precious family together. Forever and nothing less, my babe. I can promise you that.
Noah Michael and Ryleigh Michelle. Being your mom is the greatest title I could ever have. I hope that as you grow, both of you will know, without a doubt, how much I love you. At very young ages, each of you has already proven how much fight you have. My hope is that this fight will only grow stronger with every obstacle you face. No matter what, I will always be your biggest cheerleader and am so excited to see the plans God has in store for your futures.
Author Michele McPhee. You encouraged me to take this journey, and without the push I never would have done it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your help and your friendship.
Anthony Flacco. Throughout this process, you have become more than a coauthor. You have become my friend. Thank you for every exhausting hour spent together translating my story into these beautiful chapters. You have made my biggest dream come true, and there are no words to describe what that truly means to me.
Sharlene Martin of Martin Literary Management. You’re so much more to me than a manager. Thank you for seeing more in me than I see in myself most days and for pushing me further than I ever k
new I could be pushed. This has been one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had, and I owe it all to you for taking a chance on a Texas girl and her dream.
Editor Vicki Crumpton, Twila Bennett, Lindsey Spoolstra, and the Revell publishing team. I knew from our first phone call that, if the opportunity presented itself, you guys were the only team I wanted to work with on this project. It has proven to be one of the best decisions I have ever made. Thank you for believing in my dream enough to turn it into a reality and for every moment of this amazing adventure.
My sisters, Hannah, Lydia, and Allie Grace. You three will never comprehend how much I love you and how proud I am to be your sister.
My friends Megan Bugle, Lauren Schaefer, Karah Clark, Rachel and Cody Crosland, Lisa and Eric Lindley, Nick and Lauren Longo, Melissa Rainer, Naomi Stone, Tracy Kiss, and Helen Breyan. You all keep me going on a daily basis, and my life is better with each of you in it.
My second parents, Edd and Nina Hendee. There are no words to describe how grateful I am to know both of you. We became family the day we visited for the first time, and I can’t imagine life any other way.
My fellow Boston bombing survivors—I am so proud of each one of you who continue to pick up the pieces to your own lives every day. Never stop fighting.
The doctors, nurses, and medical staff who have been involved in not only my care but also my children’s over the last several years.
Stephen Plant and Cesar Soto with Orthotic & Prosthetic Associates. (You both have become family, and Felicia wouldn’t be a part of my life if it wasn’t for you guys!)
Taking My Life Back Page 16