"Cheryl, the baby's not breathing!"
I ran in from the clothesline where I had been hanging laundry at my in-law's house to find my six-week-old baby girl dusky-colored and limp, her blue eyes rolling into her head.
Thinking she had choked on spit-up, I turned her over in my hands and frantically patted her back. I couldn't tell if she was taking in air or not, but she didn't seem to be responding.
"Amanda! Please breathe!" I screamed, fear and panic rising within me.
Still carrying the baby, my father-in-law ushered me to the truck while his wife called 911. I held the little suction bulb in my hand and kept pressing the tip into the baby's throat; squeezing the air from the bulb, pulling it out to refill with oxygen, and repeating the process. I didn't know what else to do.
My husband sat next to me and he and his dad kept asking, "Is she breathing? Make her breathe!"
We finally met the ambulance at an intersection and as soon as they took my limp baby girl from my arms, all strength seemed to leave me and I fell apart. "Is she alive?" I asked through tears several times before a paramedic finally answered yes; the baby was breathing.
By the time we arrived at the emergency room, Amanda was breathing on her own and was stabilized. She seemed to suffer no ill effects from the episode.
I, however, would never be the same.
Scary stuff for a new mom of nineteen!
Amanda was hospitalized that day and tests revealed that she experienced apnea (stopped breathing) an average of 18-20 times during every four hour sleeping period! We were all trained in CPR and our two-month-old baby was sent home on an apnea monitor, which would sound an alarm every time she stopped breathing.
It seemed that apnea monitor went off constantly and I became a nervous wreck! We moved in with my husband’s parents, mainly because I was afraid to be left alone with my baby for fear she would die.
Our second child Stephanie was screened at birth and failed the test. In fact, our first six children were all prescribed apnea monitors for the first six to eighteen months of their lives.
My fears though went beyond the threat of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome; I was terrified every time I heard “THE SCREAM” (the cry that lets you know “I’m really hurt!”). And each time one of my little ones became ill I was sure of two things:
They had contracted some rare, fatal illness.
It was all my fault.
The Lord began dealing with me on this fear issue concerning my children soon after I became His child in 1997. What I discovered is that fear originates from Satan and is a result of lack of trust. Jesus wants me to walk in victory, not cower to the enemy. As I studied the story of Abraham and Isaac, I felt prompted to place each of my precious children on the altar.
I prayed something like this:
Father in heaven, these are Your children; You have only loaned them to me. You know what’s best for them better than I do. I thank You for these eternal souls that You’ve entrusted to me. Now Father I desire to place (child’s name) on the altar. I am giving (him/her) back to You and pray that Your will be done in his/her life. I pray also that You give me the necessary grace to accept Your plan for this child’s life and the wisdom to guide him/her. In Jesus’ Name, I pray. Amen.
As I prayed this prayer for each child, my fears abated.
Of course, there have been times the Lord has seen fit to remind me of the vows I made. Like when MacKenzie ate berries that I was sure were poisonous.
And when Isaac fell as a toddler and broke his arm.
And especially when Stephanie was nearly run over by a speeding car.
Then there was Haley's diagnosis of Lyme disease…
Of course, I do all that I can to keep my children safe and healthy (although after reading the above list, it could make a person wonder!), but if I’m not trusting the Lord with them, I will pull my children right off the altar and all those old fears return with a vengeance.
Are you a fearful mom? Perhaps the Lord is asking you to place your babes on the altar.
