Jaymun Foundation

He's My Son

10/16/2009

The past few days have been brutal. Jennifer and I feel like our existance was dealt a stunning blow. I have been so confused ...dreaming in the night about finding Jaymun alive here at home and waking up planning how to help Jaymun heal before realizing afresh that he is dead. I blamed the doctors for not listening (and myself for not speaking up louder) and triggering this latest crisis by taking a child with prolonged immune suppression, compromised lungs, weak intestines, poor coagulopathy, two-day-old brain bleed, and edemic brain tumor/lesion and simultaneously boosting his phenytoin level from zero to 30 while dosing him on dexamethasone triggering a spiraling sequence of endotoxic insult, DIC, pulmonary edema, third-spacing/internal edema, limited organ perfusion, and progressive gut failure ...resulting in eventual renal failure, brain damage, and death.

The past few weeks were a nightmarish roller coaster. Even though the medical staff told us several times the end was near, we had suprising victories and congratulations from doctors and nurses along the way. We were flooded with massive amounts of information, and if we had it all to do over again, I believe there were very specific changes / interventions (even once the crisis started) that could have helped Jaymun get through this alive.

So that then, becomes a faith challenge. I went into this believing God was going to lead us through safely. I was asking my Father in Heaven to care for us, to find a way. At every point that is what gave me the motivation and strength to get out of bed after two hours of sleep, because I knew that if there was a problem, and I just kept looking, watching, and listening, God would help make a way. Every day I found information that was critical. I just kept saying "Father, look at him ...he's my son. Help him. Help me help him."

It was in disbelief, like in a daze that I watched his brain die and lung tidal waves become stiff and spiky. Instantly most of my capacity to function was lost. Still now, I can't walk fast or think. I feel like an old defeated man. I wander about wrestling with anger and futile frustration. I want to celebrate Jaymun's promotion to life eternal, but I feel let down by God in the battle we were just fighting here on earth.

I may always struggle with these feelings, but at least this morning when I woke up, my first thought was actually about what Jaymun was doing with our Father up above. After thinking through all the medical "what-if's" the past days, the reality is dawning afresh that Jaymun's other, bigger Father is wiser and more loving than me. I think He saw a rough road ahead for Jaymun. That it pained Him to see us (doctors/parents) fumble around trying to cure him. That our Father grieved to hear Jaymun apologizing in his own sweet way for crying after medical procedures.

Jaymun was such a polite little boy. He slipped off into unconsciousness a few weeks ago, apologizing for crying about his pains. Since birth he has been in and out of hospitals, clinics, tubes, pokes, intrusions. He had gotten to the point where he thought that was part of life and that if he cried he was bothering us. I think that grieved God's heart. I think our Father knew that even if Jaymun made it through this crisis there was more pain coming. I think our Father made a decision to protect Jaymun from that. As a father myself, that is a decision I can understand.

It is too quiet in our house. We have too much time on our hands. We miss the little man running around showing us things. I miss being able to pray for Jaymun, reminding God that he's my son. But I don't think it is quiet up in God's house. I think Jaymun is more alive than he has ever been, feeling perfectly safe at last. It hurts to feel all the bright plans I had for Jaymun aborted. But our Father had glorious plans for Jaymun that didn't include even one more day of shadows. We couldn't get Jaymun to understand normal three-year-old concepts ...he was just permanently stuck in a happy-go-lucky toddler existance. We couldn't make Jaymun understand why these pains would come. But God can help Jaymun understand everything he needs to know. I have fatherly limitations, but there is One with a greater claim Who can keep Jaymun safe and happy until we all meet again in glory.

Today Jennifer, Ben, Kirsten, Devon, Sean, and I found a gravesite in a lovely little country cemetery, a mile from home as the bird flies, in a corner under the trees. It was a quiet fall morning, and the only sounds were our voices, quietly talking about Jaymun. But it seems to me as the clouds blew past, the leaves fell, and as the wind whispered through the trees that we could hear the echoes of a different voice.

The voice the angels heard Tuesday morning when Jaymun passed from this world to the next
   ...the voice of our heavenly Father commanding them to rescue this little one who blessed us from the day of his birth, "because he's not just anyone,
He's My son"

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