There was a woman sent from God. Her name is Delaina.
Born on a Wednesday, almost four decades ago, she did something that no one said she would do. Something that could have only been ordained by God Himself–she survived…
If you or children have ever been a fan of “Veggie Tales”, there is a good chance you’ve heard or even sung along to a song about me. Well, it’s probably not about me per se, but it could be. If I was a fruit…or a vegetable. Which is funny, considering that is what all the doctors said I would be if I lived to be six months old.
What do you do when the baby you just delivered has no abdominal wall and all the organs that should normally be inside her are, instead, still inside her mother and her heart is where her stomach should be?
Can you even imagine the shock on the doctor’s face? Can you imagine the panic? The chaos that ensued in that delivery room as I struggled for every breath and every heart beat?
When all of my intestines and organs were finally delivered, they covered everything with sterile dressings soaked in saline and wheeled my incubator out to the awaiting ambulance. Two paramedics, my father, and an OB nurse, who pumped my tiny heart with her own hand just to keep me alive, accompanied me on a hundred mile journey to the closest hospital with a neonatal intensive care unit.
I wouldn’t live. There was no way. That is what the doctors, specialists, and nurses all agreed on. I was the first baby that they had ever seen, much less had to treat, that had been born that way. Most of the procedures they were about to attempt were ones they had only read about in textbooks. Some were merely the results of brainstorming.
And so they began.
With an I.V. in my head, a feeding tube, and a colostomy bag, they began to gently stretch the skin from my back towards my abdomen in hopes that it would eventually be close enough to close up with the help of transplanted animal tissue and surgical mesh until I was older. If I lived that long.
And I did. Barely.
After several months, the treating physician approached my mother with a request. He asked her to sign the paperwork that would halt all life saving or life prolonging treatments and to donate my body to science so the medical school could conduct further research as to why I was born the way that I was.
He reiterated that I would not live to be six months old and that if I did, I surely would not survive past one year. And if I did, I would be in a permanent vegetative state, blind, deaf, mute, and profoundly mentally handicapped.
That was his prognosis.
God had other plans!
I’m far from mentally handicapped or being in a vegetative state. I am definitely not blind, deaf or mute; although the three children they said I’d never have probably wish there were times that I would be quiet!
The only thing I’m missing is that belly button!
There have been so many times I have cried because of being different or not being able to do things that other children were allowed to do with no hesitation. There have been times I’ve wished that God would have allowed me to die when I was born. So many times that I have asked Him why He didn’t make me “normal”.
His answers are always the same.
“You are fearfully and wonderfully made.”
“You are created in My image.”
“I have a perfect plan for your life.”
“I love you just the way you are.”
“You were created for a purpose.”
His answers are always enough.