Sounds of Hope

That night was very long, extremely long. After midnight, he was not supposed to eat in preparation for surgery the next day. I remember trying to cuddle and soothe him during the night. We had a family bed and he was not used to sleeping in the crib. We were both uncomfortable; I on the cot trying to sleep and he in the crib fussing. Very early in the morning we prepared to take that long walk and elevator ride to the surgical suite. This time it couldn’t be long enough. I wondered what it would be like to have a child with no eye. I worried I wouldn’t know how to take care of it. I knew I would have to. My husband had no stomach for such things. He never changed one diaper for any of the children. He certainly wasn’t going to take care of an empty eye socket. The words of the woman haunted me. I had called my best friend at the church. She had called the people to prayer. I knew people were praying. Yet, I wondered. Would my disbelief sentence my child to life without his right eye...

We came back from Tulsa with just a little more information. It was late summer. It was time to go back to St. Louis. I come from a Christian tradition that does not baptize infants. Rather we dedicate them as Hannah did Samuel. My husband chose to never participate in these experiences. At the time he assumed that a dedication made them permanently Christian – oh that it would! I had opted to participate in this ritual alone with each of our children. Bethany was the first one that I dedicated alone. Her father having beaten and deserted me when I was pregnant with her, I had no choice. Our pastor at the time had my mother participate. It was just so difficult for the church to deal with a single mother in those days. (Read about her birth here and the beating here .) I remember he used the passage from Timothy about Timothy’s Mother Lois and Grandmother Eunice . He did do a wonderful job. Now it was time to take my son alone. I was rather used to this by now but I never liked it....

The ophthalmologist was old. He was nearing retirement. His manner was very gruff.  He was old fashioned, no receptionist, no nurse, just him and his equipment. His equipment was very old as well. As I held my screaming infant down he looked in his eyes with hand-held equipment. He had a hand-held instrument that sat directly on the eyeball to measure the pressure in the eye. He placed this instrument on his right eyeball. I found the emotional strength to keep it together. Finally, with a worried look on his face, the doctor had a verdict. He said, I’ve never this before. You usually see it only once in your practice. Your son has glaucoma. Glaucoma?! That was a disease of an old person. He continued. I am not equipped to handle this. He got on the phone. He called St. Louis. A doctor’s office at Barnes hospital answered. An appointment was made for the next day. It seemed there was an urgency. If his eye were to be saved, we’d need to act quickly. The old ophthalmolo...