My Story
Tonight was a tough night for me. Not because something bad happened, but actually, something good happened.
Our Worship Pastor, Marty, encouraged us to (paraphrasing here) feel our lyrics. We can sing and mimic all we want, but to engage those who are listening, we need to allow the lyrics to seep into us and pull out our story. Paraphrasing here, mind you. Then we went back over a song that we're singing on Sunday: *My Story by Big Daddy Weave. What happened next is nothing short of extraordinary, at least to me...because I allowed the words to be my story, and it was tough.
In order for you to understand what I'm saying, I'm going to incorporate the words of the song along with my testimony. So if the members of Big Daddy Weave are reading...thank you for sharing your story so I can share mine.
If I told you my story
You would hear Hope that wouldn't let go
In January, it was thirty three years since my life changed. No, there was no traffic accident that marred me for life; no personal disaster such as a crippling disease; no death of a parent or loved one that so impacted me; no crime committed against me. No, a baby was born. Not your ordinary baby, but one who had gained my love and attention during the forty weeks while she was formed. During that forty weeks, I was able, through the miracle of technology, to hear her heartbeat and see her suck her thumb. My husband and I witnessed a miracle that we never thought would happen. On January 15, 1983, at 11:45 p.m., Andrea Michelle Lane was born. What we thought was a miracle quickly turned into the biggest challenge of my life and forever altered any dreams that I had for her. She was diagnosed with Down Syndrome, and sixteen hours later, the genetic markers were identified and we were hit with the confirmation. The pediatrician who was on duty came in and calmly and clinically proclaimed that we should put her in a home and forget about her. She would never walk, talk or do for herself. We were young and we would be able to have more children. If I had had two ounces of strength right then I would have decked him, yet instead I wept at the callousness of this man who had no idea who he was dealing with. It was then that I resolved that I would prove him wrong. Thirty three years later, I'm still doing that.
And if I told you my story
You would hear Love that never gave up
When we went home later that day, that is when the grieving really started. As I was adjusting to motherhood with the help of my mom and my wonderful mother-in-law, there were times that I would just stand in the shower and weep over the dreams lost. I would never see my baby grow up and do the things that "normal" kids would do. She would never have a first love, a high school sweetheart, a husband or a family. She would forever be with me, but I was determined that she would lead the most normal life that she possibly could.
The first three months of her life were wonderful. She was growing, although not as much as we had hoped, but she was growing, and she was healthy according to each and every doctor's visit that we had attended. Then one day in May, she had a fever of 103 that sent us to the hospital and back to the pediatrician that we spoke to the day she was born. I threw a major hissy fit and demanded that another doctor see my child. Since we lived in the small town of Helena, Montana, the total amount of pediatricians at the time were three. One was mine and she was out of town, another was out sick and then there was Dr. Killjoy (not his real name, obviously). I was stuck with him, but I advised him that if he chose to speculate on anything that was wrong with my child that I would immediately report him to the medical board.
They took x-rays to make sure that she didn't have pneumonia but instead found an enlarged heart. Once they were able to get an iv into her and put an EKG on her, that's when the nightmare began. The EKG showed an abnormality in her rhythm and a specialist was called in Salt Lake City. Based on the initial EKG she was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. Later that month we went for the heart catheter, where the diagnosis was a PDA and an A-V canal, which in layman's terms meant that she had heart surgery in her future. The Patent Ductus ligation went well, although getting her prepped was difficult and getting her revived was difficult as well. We spent a full week in Salt Lake City for recovery. When we returned home, it was to a full regimen of exercises and programs designed to help her to gain weight and get her up to speed with other infants her age.
In June we hit another setback when one of her lungs collapsed. We spent a few days in the hospital at home while they worked on not losing her since she was still so small. Then later that summer we went back for the second heart catheter to determine when we should come back for the major heart work. We had to have her gain a few more pounds but her open heart surgery was scheduled for October 26th. That day, after what we thought was self-preparation on our parts, we were faced with what seemed like an impossible task; taking our baby girl to the door of the surgical suite. It was then that the realization of seeing our precious child alive again were 80/20 and we were advised because of her size, that we weren't to be overly optimistic. However, since we were dealing with the most skilled pediatric heart surgeons in the country at the time, the apprehension was only slightly eased. We were assured that the surgery would only take six hours....eight hours later we still had heard nothing, and all during that time I read the little Bible that my grandmother had given me, I'm sure not comprehending a single word. Finally the surgeon came out and explained the delay. They had almost lost her getting her off of the heart/lung machine. Because her heart was so tiny the machine had difficulty making the proper adjustments and her heart had difficulty making the transition. Within an hour, we were able to go to the surgical room doors and follow her into the area where she would eventually spend the next ten days. I had not realized how pale she had been before because when I saw her emerging from surgery, aside from the myriad wires and monitors I found a wonderfully pink baby. How overjoyed I was at that even though I was very distressed over the equipment that made her look more machine than human.
Once she was settled in the ward where she was parked right by the nurses station, we were able to go in to be with her and to get the overview of the surgery and post op instructions. The next 24-48 hours were critical. Most of the next 24 hours found me at her bedside, talking to her and singing to her. When the nurses and our Moms finally convinced me the following day to get something to eat, I went with Mom and Mom to the cafeteria three floors down. Understand, I did not want to go and as soon as my hiney hit the stool, I heard the stat call for one of her surgeons. For the life of me, I do not remember touching one of the stairs that led to the third floor, opening the door just as the nurses put out the no admittance sign. When I asked if it was for Andrea, the nurse quietly nodded and led me to a small, dimly lit room and asked me to wait for her. As I looked around the room, I saw a pamphlet that said "what to do when your child dies". I was devastated and fell to my knees.
And if I told you my story
You would hear Life, but it wasn't mine
If I should speak then let it be
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him
I cried and prayed and pleaded with God to spare my child. I asked Him to take me instead. I asked why He would give me this child only to take her away, then I pleaded with Him to come into my life to help me to help her. It was then that I accepted Christ into my life.
If I told you my story
You would hear victory over the enemy
That was 2:22 p.m. on October 27, 1983. At 2:25 p.m., the nurse walked into the room to inform me that she was alright. They had given the stat call when her pressures fell and the alarms went off, not knowing that the surgeon was right there giving her CPR. They had not seen him come in and didn't see him because the curtain was in the way of that side of the bed. Her they could see clearly, they saw him not at all.
And if I told you my story
You would hear freedom that was won for me
And if I told you my story
You would hear Life overcome the grave
Fast forward to today. Andrea is a happy, mostly healthy young woman. She has had her ups and downs. Her father and I split and eventually I met and married her Dad, Chris, who helped me to make sure that as best as we could that she would grow up as normal as possible. She attended some regular school classes along with the special education classes; when she went to high school, she was strictly special education because of the higher functioning nature of the population. During her growing up period she has been in Special Olympics and has received medals for track and field and two for bowling. She had attended three proms and one Sadie Hawkins dance with her Sister and her Sister's best friend. When she graduated, she walked across the stage with her class with thirty three credits, one more than was required to graduate, to the sound barrier breaking applause of the audience and her classmates. As for me, I cried tears of joy at the monstrous applause for my little Girl and for the task well done.
If I should speak then let it be
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my savior all the day long
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my savior all the day long
So, this is MY story...this is MY testimony. This is my love story from Jesus to me.
Be blessed, my Friends!
*My Story by Big Daddy Weave
Album: Beautiful Offerings
Release date: 2015
Our Worship Pastor, Marty, encouraged us to (paraphrasing here) feel our lyrics. We can sing and mimic all we want, but to engage those who are listening, we need to allow the lyrics to seep into us and pull out our story. Paraphrasing here, mind you. Then we went back over a song that we're singing on Sunday: *My Story by Big Daddy Weave. What happened next is nothing short of extraordinary, at least to me...because I allowed the words to be my story, and it was tough.
In order for you to understand what I'm saying, I'm going to incorporate the words of the song along with my testimony. So if the members of Big Daddy Weave are reading...thank you for sharing your story so I can share mine.
If I told you my story
You would hear Hope that wouldn't let go
In January, it was thirty three years since my life changed. No, there was no traffic accident that marred me for life; no personal disaster such as a crippling disease; no death of a parent or loved one that so impacted me; no crime committed against me. No, a baby was born. Not your ordinary baby, but one who had gained my love and attention during the forty weeks while she was formed. During that forty weeks, I was able, through the miracle of technology, to hear her heartbeat and see her suck her thumb. My husband and I witnessed a miracle that we never thought would happen. On January 15, 1983, at 11:45 p.m., Andrea Michelle Lane was born. What we thought was a miracle quickly turned into the biggest challenge of my life and forever altered any dreams that I had for her. She was diagnosed with Down Syndrome, and sixteen hours later, the genetic markers were identified and we were hit with the confirmation. The pediatrician who was on duty came in and calmly and clinically proclaimed that we should put her in a home and forget about her. She would never walk, talk or do for herself. We were young and we would be able to have more children. If I had had two ounces of strength right then I would have decked him, yet instead I wept at the callousness of this man who had no idea who he was dealing with. It was then that I resolved that I would prove him wrong. Thirty three years later, I'm still doing that.
And if I told you my story
You would hear Love that never gave up
When we went home later that day, that is when the grieving really started. As I was adjusting to motherhood with the help of my mom and my wonderful mother-in-law, there were times that I would just stand in the shower and weep over the dreams lost. I would never see my baby grow up and do the things that "normal" kids would do. She would never have a first love, a high school sweetheart, a husband or a family. She would forever be with me, but I was determined that she would lead the most normal life that she possibly could.
The first three months of her life were wonderful. She was growing, although not as much as we had hoped, but she was growing, and she was healthy according to each and every doctor's visit that we had attended. Then one day in May, she had a fever of 103 that sent us to the hospital and back to the pediatrician that we spoke to the day she was born. I threw a major hissy fit and demanded that another doctor see my child. Since we lived in the small town of Helena, Montana, the total amount of pediatricians at the time were three. One was mine and she was out of town, another was out sick and then there was Dr. Killjoy (not his real name, obviously). I was stuck with him, but I advised him that if he chose to speculate on anything that was wrong with my child that I would immediately report him to the medical board.
They took x-rays to make sure that she didn't have pneumonia but instead found an enlarged heart. Once they were able to get an iv into her and put an EKG on her, that's when the nightmare began. The EKG showed an abnormality in her rhythm and a specialist was called in Salt Lake City. Based on the initial EKG she was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. Later that month we went for the heart catheter, where the diagnosis was a PDA and an A-V canal, which in layman's terms meant that she had heart surgery in her future. The Patent Ductus ligation went well, although getting her prepped was difficult and getting her revived was difficult as well. We spent a full week in Salt Lake City for recovery. When we returned home, it was to a full regimen of exercises and programs designed to help her to gain weight and get her up to speed with other infants her age.
In June we hit another setback when one of her lungs collapsed. We spent a few days in the hospital at home while they worked on not losing her since she was still so small. Then later that summer we went back for the second heart catheter to determine when we should come back for the major heart work. We had to have her gain a few more pounds but her open heart surgery was scheduled for October 26th. That day, after what we thought was self-preparation on our parts, we were faced with what seemed like an impossible task; taking our baby girl to the door of the surgical suite. It was then that the realization of seeing our precious child alive again were 80/20 and we were advised because of her size, that we weren't to be overly optimistic. However, since we were dealing with the most skilled pediatric heart surgeons in the country at the time, the apprehension was only slightly eased. We were assured that the surgery would only take six hours....eight hours later we still had heard nothing, and all during that time I read the little Bible that my grandmother had given me, I'm sure not comprehending a single word. Finally the surgeon came out and explained the delay. They had almost lost her getting her off of the heart/lung machine. Because her heart was so tiny the machine had difficulty making the proper adjustments and her heart had difficulty making the transition. Within an hour, we were able to go to the surgical room doors and follow her into the area where she would eventually spend the next ten days. I had not realized how pale she had been before because when I saw her emerging from surgery, aside from the myriad wires and monitors I found a wonderfully pink baby. How overjoyed I was at that even though I was very distressed over the equipment that made her look more machine than human.
Once she was settled in the ward where she was parked right by the nurses station, we were able to go in to be with her and to get the overview of the surgery and post op instructions. The next 24-48 hours were critical. Most of the next 24 hours found me at her bedside, talking to her and singing to her. When the nurses and our Moms finally convinced me the following day to get something to eat, I went with Mom and Mom to the cafeteria three floors down. Understand, I did not want to go and as soon as my hiney hit the stool, I heard the stat call for one of her surgeons. For the life of me, I do not remember touching one of the stairs that led to the third floor, opening the door just as the nurses put out the no admittance sign. When I asked if it was for Andrea, the nurse quietly nodded and led me to a small, dimly lit room and asked me to wait for her. As I looked around the room, I saw a pamphlet that said "what to do when your child dies". I was devastated and fell to my knees.
And if I told you my story
You would hear Life, but it wasn't mine
If I should speak then let it be
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him
I cried and prayed and pleaded with God to spare my child. I asked Him to take me instead. I asked why He would give me this child only to take her away, then I pleaded with Him to come into my life to help me to help her. It was then that I accepted Christ into my life.
If I told you my story
You would hear victory over the enemy
That was 2:22 p.m. on October 27, 1983. At 2:25 p.m., the nurse walked into the room to inform me that she was alright. They had given the stat call when her pressures fell and the alarms went off, not knowing that the surgeon was right there giving her CPR. They had not seen him come in and didn't see him because the curtain was in the way of that side of the bed. Her they could see clearly, they saw him not at all.
And if I told you my story
You would hear freedom that was won for me
And if I told you my story
You would hear Life overcome the grave
Fast forward to today. Andrea is a happy, mostly healthy young woman. She has had her ups and downs. Her father and I split and eventually I met and married her Dad, Chris, who helped me to make sure that as best as we could that she would grow up as normal as possible. She attended some regular school classes along with the special education classes; when she went to high school, she was strictly special education because of the higher functioning nature of the population. During her growing up period she has been in Special Olympics and has received medals for track and field and two for bowling. She had attended three proms and one Sadie Hawkins dance with her Sister and her Sister's best friend. When she graduated, she walked across the stage with her class with thirty three credits, one more than was required to graduate, to the sound barrier breaking applause of the audience and her classmates. As for me, I cried tears of joy at the monstrous applause for my little Girl and for the task well done.
If I should speak then let it be
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my savior all the day long
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my savior all the day long
So, this is MY story...this is MY testimony. This is my love story from Jesus to me.
Be blessed, my Friends!
*My Story by Big Daddy Weave
Album: Beautiful Offerings
Release date: 2015
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