Elizabeth: A Christmas Blessing–Even Now

Story posted by Chris Cade | Short Christmas Stories on Dec 9, 2008 in Inspirational Christmas Stories (If known, the original author is listed below)

Expecting our second child, due to arrive Christmas Eve of 1989, had been  a delightful experience. What a Christmas present! But the moment Elizabeth was born, I felt a stab of fear. My immediate thought was, “Her
head looks so small–so deformed.” Before she was twelve hours old, I found out why.

When the neonatologist entered my room the following morning, he said, “Your daughter has profound microcephaly–her brain is extremely damaged throughout. If she lives, she will never roll over, sit up, or feed herself.”

He concluded that Elizabeth’s birth defects were caused by congenital cytomegalovirus (CMV) — a virus that may have no symptoms for the mother, known as a “silent virus,” or it may present itself with mild to
severe flu-like symptoms.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) states that approximately 8,000 babies a year are born with or develop permanent disabilities because of congenital CMV. It is the #1 viral cause of birth defects–more common than Down syndrome.

How and why did I catch this virus that I had barely heard of? I read the CMV literature. It stated that women who care for young children are at a higher risk for catching it because it is frequently being shed in their
saliva and urine. Pregnant wome n need to avoid kissing them on the mouth and sharing towels and utensils with them. Hands should be washed thoroughly, especially after wiping runny noses, diaper changes and
picking up toys that have been in a toddler’s mouth.

While I was pregnant with Elizabeth, I not only had a toddler of my own, but also ran a licensed daycare center in my home. I felt sick at what my lack of knowledge had done to my little girl. In milder cases, children with congenital CMV may lose hearing or struggle with learning disabilities later in life. But Elizabeth’s case was not a mild one.

“My life is over,” I thought. I asked God to heal her instantly, but since He didn’t, I begged him to kill me and  prayed to be crushed to death in an earthquake or struck by lightening. I just couldn’t handle raising such an afflicted child, period. Although children are supposed to be a blessing, I felt far from blessed–I felt stricken.

Thankfully my husband Jim’s love for Elizabeth far outweighed his grief. He said, “She needs me. I want to protect her from this cruel world she has been born into.” He was just like Charlie Brown with that pathetic
Christmas tree.

“Oh God,” I prayed, “please help me love Elizabeth too.”

We took Elizabeth home Friday morning, December 22. Although Elizabeth was no longer at death’s door, my horror over her prognosis had not left. But I had to fight through it; Christmas preparations neede d to be made. Christmas had not turned out as hoped.

Initially, whenever I looked upon Elizabeth, my heart broke afresh–all I could see was her prognosis. It was as if the prognosis was more of a person than she was. This “prognosis” was like a living creature relentlessly torturing me. I couldn’t seem to get past it and see Elizabeth for the sweet little girl she was.

In those early months of Elizabeth’s life, it seemed all I could do was rock Elizabeth and read the book of Psalms. Many of the psalmists wrote things I wouldn’t dare say to God. They questioned His love and power,
thus helping me to honestly express my grief to Him. I could relate to the writers’ pain and feelings of abandonment as they waited on God’s deliverance. Knowing I wasn’t the only one despairing of life made me feel less alone in my anguish.

Elizabeth loved to be held–something my first-born daughter Jackie never enjoyed. Elizabeth resting contentedly in my arms  was beginning to bring me pleasure. One day, she looked directly into my eyes and smiled. I was hooked! I stopped asking God to kill me. Like George Bailey standing on the bridge at the end of the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” I too began to cry, “I want to live again!”

Sixteen years later, I awoke feeling so proud. It was Elizabeth’s 16th birthday and just one week before her 17th Christmas. Listening to nostalgic songs like, “I’ll be home for Christmas,” I thought about20how
hard Elizabeth fought to be home with us for yet another Christmas–overcoming several battles with pneumonia,  major surgeries and most recently, seizures. Weighing only 50 pounds, she looked funny to
strangers as a result of her small head and big adult teeth, but she was lovely to us with her long, thick brown hair, large blue eyes and soul-capturing smile. Although Elizabeth was still in diapers, and could
not speak or hold up her head, she was a very happy young lady with a love of adventure — long car rides to look at Christmas lights being one of her favorites. She especially enjoyed going to school and being surrounded by people, paying no mind to the stares of “normal” children who thought that, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, she belonged on the Island of Misfit Toys.

Less than two months after she turned 16, I dropped Elizabeth off at school. Strapping her into her wheelchair, I held her face in my hands, kissed her cheek, and said, “Now be a good girl today.” She smiled as she heard her teacher say what she said every time, “Elizabeth is always a good girl!” With that, I left.

At the end of the day, I got the call I had always feared. “Mrs. Saunders, Elizabeth had a seizure and she’s not breathing. We called 911.”

The medical team did all they could, but she was gone. While holding Elizabeth on his lap, my husband looked down into her partially open, lifeless eyes and cried, “No one is ever going t o look at me again the
way Elizabeth did.” I knew he was right. No one adored us as Elizabeth did. Although I was happy that she was free from her body, I knew it might be a very long time before we joined her in her new Heavenly home.

Now, as I prepare to celebrate my third Christmas without Elizabeth, it is with some heartache that I lift the holiday decorations from their boxes. Elizabeth used to love to sit on the couch with her big, old dog Riley,
and watch me decorate. But I have found a way to include her in our Christmas traditions: I open Elizabeth’s drawer and pull out the black and red checked shirt she wore on her last day with us and hang it over an
empty chair placed beside the fireplace. I think of her as my little “Tiny Tim” who would say to us if she could, “God bless us, everyone!”

In an effort to record the fun I had raising Elizabeth beside her tomboy sister, Jackie, I wrote the book, “Anything But a Dog! The perfect pet for a girl with congenital CMV.” It is not only the crazy account of trying to find the right pet for both daughters, but it also raises awareness of congenital CMV–I don’t want there to be another parent who cries, “No one is ever going to look at me this way again,” because their child died from this largely preventable disease. Available through the National Congenital Disease Registry, “Anything But a Dog!” raises funds for congenital CMV parent support, research and awareness if purchased
through: http://www.unlimitedpublishing.com/cmv/

Thanks for reading about Elizabeth!

Lisa Saunders, Suffern, NY.
www.authorlisasaunders.com
Lisa can be reached at saundersbooks@aol.com. She is the campus
communications writer for Rockland Community College and a member of its
Speakers Bureau