Breathing

Tonight, I realized how precious Angie's breathing is to me.  The fact that she is breathing is no random fact.  It is an important reminder of the weight and the depth of her miracle.

So many nights, we sat by her bed in the hospital and listened to machines breathe for her.  We stood in the corner of the room while doctors inserted a breathing tube because the seizures wracking her body were ruthless and were stealing her ability to breathe on her own.  We prayed that she would breathe on her own again afterwards and we feared that she would not.  On more than one occasion, we sat by her side in an ambulance and prayed she would breathe long enough to get to the hospital.  At one point we received a phone call asking us to hurry back to the hospital to see Angie before doctors intubated her during a serious illness they feared she would not survive.  That time, she did not breathe on her own for 21 days and then she came back to us.  Breathing is really important and I think we take it for granted.  We don't know not to.

Not anymore.  Some of you may have thought the title of the blog, "Life After a Miracle" is a little bit dramatic, but I would argue that it is not.  Angie is very much the recipient of a miracle, maybe more than one.  How else can we explain the months between the time we were told, "Her next seizure may be her last", and the day she went into surgery without one seizure occurring?  When she was having intractable seizures every two to three weeks before that?  During those months we were told she could not have surgery due to her bilateral disease.  DHS determined that a Do Not Resuscitate order was a better alternative to surgery.  Doctors performed test after test to determine if she truly could survive and thrive with only the right hemisphere of her brain.  And months went by.  A miracle, I tell you.  We fought for her life and we won, but it was more than that.

God never wastes a miracle and this one will not be any different.  Angie is using her second chance at life to teach the world around her.  She is showing us that there is no "impossible" and that no challenge is insurmountable.  She models goodness and grace for those around her and she is a living example of what happens when you ignore what people say you can't do.  She definitely isn't perfect.  She is also stubborn, sassy, and she can swear like a sailor.  She is feisty and naughty and she hates math.   I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tonight, as I write, she is sleeping beside me and her breathing is music to my ears.  I wouldn't trade this miracle for anything.  I could listen to it all night long.