When preparing to write this incredibly difficult post, I went to the Lord in prayer knowing reliving this moment would take a lot out of me. The Lord brought this song to mind. I was quickly reminded that we serve a good, good Father who goes by many of names-all of which are true. And while this life has its tests and trials, He is always faithful to perform His promises.

Here we go…

When Kenzie was about 6 weeks old, my newborn and I had finally established a routine. I knew what each of her cries required out of me, I could anticipate her eating schedule, and I knew when it was nap time. I was finally getting used to mom-life with two kids, and the rhythm that we were now in as a family of four finally felt right.

(Image below is a picture taken of Kenzie’s first moments of life outside of the womb.)

Something Didn’t Feel Right

It was a Wednesday when I noticed that my newborn was sleeping an awful lot. Like, a lot, a lot. Actually, it was hard to keep her awake.

While running some errands, I took Kenzie and Adalynn for a quick trip to see my sister. Kenzie was asleep in her car seat while my sister and I chatted. At one point of the conversation, I remember looking over at Kenzie and saying, “I’m a little concerned about Kenzie right now.”

“Why?” she asked.

“She is sleeping a ton,” I explained. “I can’t seem to keep her awake long enough to eat a full meal.”

“Maybe she is growing.”

“Yeah, maybe. But something just doesn’t feel right.”

I mean, it made sense. Infants do sleep more when they are growing. I liked that reason more than the ones that were swirling in my head. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was more than just a nervous momma feeling.

Trying to calm my anxious heart, I told myself I was overreacting and pushed those feelings away as I went about my day.

The Eleventh Hour

After a long day, I found myself battling a very fussy baby. Nothing seemed to make her happy and I tried to ignore the fact that she felt warm to me.

“Man, I can’t get Kenzie to settle down,” I said to my husband. I was exhausted from the day and ready for my infant to call it a night, too.

“I think something is wrong,” I added in frustration.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” Ryan responded.

“She feels warm to me. I think I’m going to go check her temperature.”

Moments Later…

Moments later I found myself looking down at a thermometer that read 102.7.

Why do I even remember that number?!

My heart started racing, and my thoughts started to go to a place that made me very uncomfortable.

I remember hearing in my head “Meningitis. Meningitis. Meningitis,” over and over again. Now let’s take a minute and think about how crazy that is. Babies get sick (unfortunately) all the time, so why in the world would that be my first thought?!

I checked and rechecked Kenzie’s temperature what must have been a dozen times before I finally came to the conclusion that my infant had a fever.

“Ryan, Kenzie has a temperature of 102.7. I think we need to take her to the ER.”

My husband’s reaction didn’t seem all that supportive at first, or at least he didn’t react the way I wanted him to. He was reacting according to how everyone else reacts. Kids get sick. However, he eventually got up from his slumber, and we began to make arrangements for my sister to watch my oldest daughter while we took Kenzie to the hospital.

The ER

I honestly don’t know what I was expecting from this moment on. I was worried that I was overreacting and giving ourselves a really long night for no reason. And yet, at the same time, I had this deep knowing that there was something seriously wrong with my baby.

As we entered the doors of the ER, I was a little shocked at how calm everything seemed. We received sympathy looks from just about everyone as they realized we were there with a baby. In fact, one man got up and told the receptionist to let the family with the baby get checked in before him. I smiled politely at the man as he returned to his seat.

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“You’re welcome. That baby needs more attention than I do. Good luck to ya,” He responded.

The Tests

When we were moved to a room, the doctors began asking us a series of questions attempting to get to the bottom of why our newborn had a fever. The tests that were run on my child started out harmless and non-invasive. However, as each test came back negative or inconclusive, the situation increased in tension and the stress level began to rise.

The final test left to do was the spinal tap. The doctors told me to move my baby’s body in the shape of a “U” so they could insert a needle up her spine and retrieve some spinal fluid. So I did. As Kenzie screamed in pain, I started to shake and cry at what was happening to my daughter. I couldn’t help her in this moment and that left me feeling so incredibly powerless. Worst-case scenarios were racing through my mind, and I could no longer make sense of any direction or information that was being given to me. Eventually, a nurse came and held my daughter for me as more fluid was extracted.

At one point, the nurse looked over at my husband and said, “This is too much stress on your wife. You need to take her somewhere else.”

“No,” I responded. “I’m fine.”

When the test was finally completed, I quickly scooped up my daughter and didn’t part from her for the next several hours.

The Wait

The next hour of waiting for results seemed endless. All I did was pray this was just a virus and we could all go home with some Tylenol and a new experience under our belts. I would have done anything to leave feeling embarrassed about overreacting versus what actually came next.

I remember going through the options with my husband, telling him what I hoped for, best-case scenarios, etc. At one point, I looked over at Ryan and said,

“If she has meningitis, that’s a death sentence.”

I look back at that moment now and have no clue why I even said those words out loud other than the fact that the Holy Spirit had been whispering it to me most of the evening. Not the death sentence part. That was my own assumption. However, I wish I knew then what I know now.

The Diagnosis

At some point in the evening, the doctor finally came in, sat down, and sighed. The atmosphere suddenly went from bad to worse, and I knew what he was about to say was nothing close to the best case scenario I was hoping for.

“Well,” he started, “I’ve got some unfortunate news. We did find evidence that Kenzie has bronchiolitis. However, that’s not our top concern. The results from the spinal tap revealed that Kenzie has a significant amount of protein in her spinal fluid.”

“What does that mean?” I quickly asked. Then he looked me square in the face and said…

“Your child has spinal meningitis.”

And there it was. The information that my soul already knew but my heart didn’t want to be true. Those words cut deep and my emotions spiraled.

I stared at the ground trying to process what I had just heard.

My baby is going to die, I thought. My baby is going to die.

As the doctor continued talking to Ryan about the process of being admitted, I was remained very still and stared at the floor. Eventually, the doctor got up to leave. But before leaving, he paused, looked at me, and patted my foot. I glanced up to see his hang-in-there-momma look on his face. He knew we were facing a giant and needed all the support we could get. To this day, I wouldn’t be able to pick that doctor out from a crowd, but I can still feel that pat pat on my foot.

I wish I could tell you that I leaned on my belief system during this trial. That would make for a more compelling testimony at this point. Instead, I fell apart. It was a steady and slow decline, but this was the absolute trigger point. No, I didn’t weep uncontrollably. That came later. But my thought life shifted that day, eventually leading to a dark depression.

This was the day I was branded by fear and anxiety.

And while my child didn’t die (more on that to come), most of my trust in the Lord sure did. We will get to that, too.