Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. [Psalm 51:10]
“No,” she persisted. “I am too afraid that if he has the surgery, he will surely die.” Franklin’s mother clutched him against her waist. She was over 7 months pregnant, but you could tell by the shakiness in her voice that she was preoccupied with her 2 year old son who needed open heart surgery. His tiny frame was too small to fit in the new 3-6 month onesie he was given, and he laid his small head against his mama’s belly as his arms and legs fell limp over her lap. Although he was just a baby, his big brown eyes seemed to tell a history of difficulty, as he struggled to breathe with every chest rise and fall.
He was terrified of me when we first met. My first impression here in Guatemala can really be hit or miss… Most of the time, the kids are fascinated by my big mop of blonde hair and white careful-while-you-look-at-it-in-the-sunlight skin. Nope, not Franklin. He screamed, terrified of the giant white smiling person moving toward him with her stethoscope. He clung to his mama whenever he saw me. After a few weeks, I finally won him over with my fishy face.
His mama, too, was terrified. Not of me, but of the news of her son needing a very serious and urgent surgery. Even after explaining to her that yes, there’s a small chance that he could die during surgery, but if left untreated he will continue to struggle to breathe, eat, and grow and will without a doubt die an early death… even with knowing that, she was too consumed with fear to consent.
The weeks rolled by, and Franklin’s condition was like a rollercoaster. Some days, he was bright eyed, smiling, and trying to learn to stand. Other days, he was lethargic, lungs filled with fluid, and getting hooked up to IVs as he was too weak to eat or drink anything. Daily I worried about this little 2 year old 10 pound nugget. After a particularly difficult few days, his mama had finally realised that without surgery, his life would continue to deteriorate. She was going home to finish her pregnancy and have her baby in the presence of her family. Before leaving, she grabbed my hands and pleaded with tear-filled eyes to “please take care of my baby, he needs extra love at night.”
She was right, too. Her first night away was a night I happened to be working at the hospital. Franklin cried to the point of making himself throw up. His little lips started to turn blue from all the energy he was exerting. I picked him up and felt his heart racing and eventually calming to a normal rate as he snuggled into me. I spent the night charting with Franklin sprawled across my chest, and even managed to lie down on the couch and rest with him for about an hour.
In those moments, in the stillness of the night with his frail body in my arms, I realised the fear his mother had. I realised that she made the decision to pursue surgery because she loved him and wanted what was best for him, even though it meant facing her biggest fears. I was a little scared, too, but knew he had to have this surgery pretty urgently. He didn’t actually go in for surgery until we were back in the states. I would text constantly for updates to see how my little man was doing. A week after returning back to Guatemala, I was so happy to hear he would be coming back to us! He’s not 100% better yet, but he’s moving in that direction. It’s so happy to see him so alert and active and not look like he’s struggling to catch his breath!
I continue to be amazed at the work The Lord is doing here at Hope of Life. Kids like Franklin are given an opportunity to live, even if that means paying for an open heart surgery (he ended up going under twice, actually..) and as well for all the care leading up to his surgery, and his ongoing treatment afterward. If you’d like to help sponsor children like Franklin who are in need, go to http://hopeoflifeintl.org
You are loved,
Whitney
