Olive's Story
For several months I have been following the story of a baby girl who was born prematurely to missionary parents in Thailand. The baby's mother is my second cousin, although I do not really know her personally. The baby's grandpa Norman grew up here. A more alive recent connection is through our daughter-in-law, Hilda, whose aunt-by-marriage, Kathy, is an aunt to the baby's mother. I've been following the story on various blogs. Our Sunday School class has been praying for the baby and her family.
The baby was born on September 25, and weighed 2 lbs. 8 oz. As I recall, she was more than 3 months early. Her father had gone to the US, expecting to return in plenty of time for his child's birth. He hurried home immediately, of course, when the baby made an early appearance while he was gone.
The next months were often a roller coaster of crises and hopeful times. Infections and inter-cranial hemorrhages left the baby severely brain damaged, but she seemed surprisingly resilient. Time after time, she recovered from critical illness. Although the parents were willing to offer her back to the God Who had given her, they supported life for her in every way they could. The baby, who was named Olive Hope, continued to grow, and eventually gained enough size and stability to be flown to the US. A Thai doctor and two nurses accompanied the baby and her parents on a commercial flight.
Olive's parents loved her dearly, and were willing to do whatever was necessary to care for her, even though no one gave them any hope that, outside of a miracle, she would develop normally.
Last week things looked very hopeful, and dismissal from the hospital this week looked possible. But then another crisis developed. The shunt that had been installed to drain cerebro-spinal fluid malfunctioned (broke, actually), and another surgery was required to fix it.
The short version of what happened after surgery is that on Friday morning everyone realized that she had contracted an infection through the incision. Her body could not bounce back this time, and Olive died shortly after 6:30 in the evening. She was a little less than four months old.
I feel a lot of sympathy for Olive's family. They've faced a lot of hard things in the past months, and the separation now must be very difficult--perhaps the hardest thing of all.
I know one thing though. Olive's parents have done successfully what every parent hopes to do--love their child while they're here, provide for them to the best of their ability, and see them safely enter heaven.
I've been reflecting on the fact that when a "safe" or saved person dies, they go directly into the welcoming presence of Someone. When they leave our presence, they do not go away to nowhere, even for a short time. They are instantly alive in heaven--healed, cared for, and happy. When the one who dies is a helpless child who has required extraordinarily vigilant caregiving, knowing this is very precious. While that knowledge doesn't let us escape the pain of parting, it helps provide a solid foundation for healing.
God bless all those who loved Olive and her family.
The baby was born on September 25, and weighed 2 lbs. 8 oz. As I recall, she was more than 3 months early. Her father had gone to the US, expecting to return in plenty of time for his child's birth. He hurried home immediately, of course, when the baby made an early appearance while he was gone.
The next months were often a roller coaster of crises and hopeful times. Infections and inter-cranial hemorrhages left the baby severely brain damaged, but she seemed surprisingly resilient. Time after time, she recovered from critical illness. Although the parents were willing to offer her back to the God Who had given her, they supported life for her in every way they could. The baby, who was named Olive Hope, continued to grow, and eventually gained enough size and stability to be flown to the US. A Thai doctor and two nurses accompanied the baby and her parents on a commercial flight.
Olive's parents loved her dearly, and were willing to do whatever was necessary to care for her, even though no one gave them any hope that, outside of a miracle, she would develop normally.
Last week things looked very hopeful, and dismissal from the hospital this week looked possible. But then another crisis developed. The shunt that had been installed to drain cerebro-spinal fluid malfunctioned (broke, actually), and another surgery was required to fix it.
The short version of what happened after surgery is that on Friday morning everyone realized that she had contracted an infection through the incision. Her body could not bounce back this time, and Olive died shortly after 6:30 in the evening. She was a little less than four months old.
I feel a lot of sympathy for Olive's family. They've faced a lot of hard things in the past months, and the separation now must be very difficult--perhaps the hardest thing of all.
I know one thing though. Olive's parents have done successfully what every parent hopes to do--love their child while they're here, provide for them to the best of their ability, and see them safely enter heaven.
I've been reflecting on the fact that when a "safe" or saved person dies, they go directly into the welcoming presence of Someone. When they leave our presence, they do not go away to nowhere, even for a short time. They are instantly alive in heaven--healed, cared for, and happy. When the one who dies is a helpless child who has required extraordinarily vigilant caregiving, knowing this is very precious. While that knowledge doesn't let us escape the pain of parting, it helps provide a solid foundation for healing.
God bless all those who loved Olive and her family.
posted by Mrs. I at
4:27 PM
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