As I drove to the hospital the early morning of February, valentines day I had tears streaming down my face. I just got done talking to Jon's PM&R doctor and she told me to pack a bag and head to the hospital because we will be staying till they could figure out why Jon was having these tremor like symptoms. Jon was moaning in the carseat. I pulled up to the e.r grabbed Jon and headed inside. Repeatedly I was telling him "I am so sorry buddy, they are going to figure this out." As the ladies at the desk seen me they said they were expecting me and called for the nurse to take us back. As the nurse came to escort us to the back Jon went into the full blown twitching, and gasping for air episode. She took him from me and whisked him into a room yelling for others to come help. I'm standing beside Jon half in a daze and half of me ready to scream for them to just make it all stop. I start crying pretty heavily I suppose because they sent a social worker in to see me. I wipe my tears, I stood up straight as to say I am strong, I'm not crying. Thats when she took her arms and wrapped them around me. I lost it with her, completely and uncontrollably lost it. My tears soaked her shirt. I kept muttering the words "I just want my baby better."
About 4 to 5 days after being admitted into the p.i.c.u (pediatric intensive care unit) and being intubated then extubated to be reintubatd the nurses told me to bring pictures of the family in and hang them up. I would get angry with them because I walked around the halls and seen the children with pictures all over their walls, I seen the notes on their wall "days here" 118, 65, 206 ect. That wasn't going to be us! They were going to figure this out and we would be home in no time! When the one week mark came I brought up the picture of all three of them.
I was getting more and more angry. Not at the doctors, not at the nurses but at God! Why God, why are you letting this happen I would say over and over! I would ask for pray via phone conversations, via Facebook and anyway I could I was asking for prayer. But guess what I wasn't praying. I was mad so mad. I would often leave Jons room and head to the conference room (I went there a lot) and would just continuously scream out and ask why. I've already lost a son there was no way I could lose another one. I would cry and cry until I had no more tears. I stopped eating. I wasn't sleeping. I was having migraine after migraine. My best friend had her pastor come up and pray over Jon with Justin and myself. I would ask God to just give me insight as he has done many times throughout Jon's life. Our pastor also came and prayed over Jon. Our congregation prayed over Jon. Thousands of people around the world prayed for my little boy! I closed my eyes, I cried but I didn't pray. That is until Jon was extubated again. He started having the tremor like symptoms and they hurried to reintubate him. That was when I went to the conference room, fell to my knees and prayed. Prayed that God would just heal him, have him feel no more pain, to make him completely better. The next day is when the doctors told us we needed to talk to the palliative care team.
Now after all these months I felt God didn't answer my prayers. But in reality he did. I have come to realize God answered my prayers 100%. I wanted Jon healed, back in my arms and things to go back to the way they were. However that was not Gods plans. He did heal Jon, completely and wholly Jon has been healed! Jon is not here in my arms he is in a place far greater than I can imagine. Its not the way I wanted it to go but as it says in Isaiah 55:8 "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. God truly has a plan for everyones life. I may not understand it. It doesn't minimize the hurt I feel here on earth. But I know ultimately Jon is happy. He is with his twin bother now. He is no longer in pain.