I know you mean well, but why do we have to pray at all that someone exercise human compassion toward that infant? Why does God do that to helpless babies? If He doesn't, you certainly can't chalk such a catastrophic birth defect up to some human's free will.
These kinds of cases raise all sorts of questions about the validity of religious faith, for me at least. As well meaning as you and folks like you may be, all the chirping in the world about prayer can't answer them.
When Six Months Is a Lifetime
By Linda A. Prussen-Razzano
Featured Rightgrrl April 1999
April 14, 1999
In March of 1993, my brother, Richard, and his wife, Linda, eagerly awaited the birth of their second child, Eric. They already had a precocious, intelligent, and lovely two-year old daughter, Heather. We expected Linda to deliver Eric with her usual savior faire; as a top level gymnast and gymnastic coach, she was in prime condition. I remember her jokingly advising that her knee surgery "was more painful" than Heather's delivery; moreover, her pre-natal check-ups and pregnancy were seamless.
Sadly, we were wrong.
I can still remember my mother calling me at work. Her greeting, while affectionate, was tinged with somberness. "Linda had the baby."
The anticipated level of joy was noticeably missing from her voice. "Mom, what's wrong?" I gulped, swallowing the lump of anxiety rising in my throat.
"It's not good, honey," she murmured, choked. As she proceeded to tell me the details, my boss, Anthony, looked on in growing concern. By the time I hung up, I could no longer contain the tears. Little explanation was required. My effusive face said it all.
Linda had been well past her due date, so the doctors induced labor. The delivery was traumatic. Eric was 9 lb. 10 ounces at birth; because of his large size and Linda's forced dilation, the doctors broke his shoulder bone pulling him out. For some 45 minutes, Linda received stitches to stop the hemorrhaging. My usually unflappable brother was externally composed, but I could smell the coppery tinge of confusion and anxiety when I stood close to him.
Almost immediately after being born, Eric began to seizure. The doctors rushed him from the room, several staff members fighting to keep him alive. By the time I got to the hospital, he was in the Neo-Natal ICU, tubes and needles sticking out of his plump baby limbs. They originally thought he had a brain tumor; however, the doctors later confirmed that the lump was not a tumor.
Eric had an underdeveloped cerebellum. Because of this condition, all his little body's involuntary functions were not regulated. He suffered from apnea, both awake and asleep; he needed a respirator; he was unable to coordinate his suck, swallow, and breathe reflex. He had seizures, reflux, and diabetes insipidus. He was fed through a tube in his stomach. All totaled, he spent three months of his life in the hospital.
Linda, Rich, my mother, and Linda's mother all learned baby CPR. Linda registered her house with the local fire department for emergency power in the event of an outage and fought with insurance companies to cover the thousands of dollars in bills. Linda and Rich submerged themselves in literature on technologically dependent children. Heather named her new baby brother "Baldhead," and patiently tried to understand the difference between "sick" and "very ill."
My father had been away on business for several weeks while Eric was in the hospital. I can still remember sitting on the couch in the livingroom, talking with him about Eric's condition. My mother, who spent countless hours at the hospital, came in, sat down, and wept openly, fearful that he would spend the rest of his life in some sort of medical facility.
"Oh, Gail, it's not that bad," Dad insisted dismissively. As a staunch, often indomitable authoritarian, very little could unbalance my father. He undoubtedly presumed my sensitive mother was exaggerating.
"You come with me, John. You come with me to the hospital and see for yourself!" Mom insisted. She needed his strength, his reassurance; she needed his understanding…she was battling for her grandson's life.
When they returned a short time later, my father sat down on the couch, his face pale, shaken, and defeated. I could hear the tears in his voice long before they rolled down his cheeks. His words were chillingly solemn and full of despair. "If that little boy comes home, he will come home in a box."
Happily, we were wrong.
Linda and Rich didn't just want their son to live, they wanted to give him a life. Away from the hospital, he began to blossom. They took him everywhere…to the beaches at Fire Island, to an Indian Pow-Wow, to the dinosaur museum at Sands Point, to my bridal shower. They let him feel the grass under his belly, smell the flowers of the summer, taste the salt in the ocean air. We got to hold him, to kiss him, to have him rest his head against our chests and instinctively settled against our hearts. I saw, with my own eyes, how courageously he fought for every minute of life and how eagerly he returned our love.
I was at work when the call came that evening of September 13, 1993. Sitting amongst my bosses, married just over a month, I didn't think it odd that my husband would call. "That newlywed hubby of yours wants you home," my other boss, John, teased as he handed me the telephone.
"Honey, are you sitting down?" my husband asked.
"Yes," I assured him.
"I have some bad news."
Since we had been having trouble with the bank and merging our two accounts, this was the first thought that popped into my head. "Okay…."
Ironically, I didn't expect it. It took me totally, completely by awful surprise. The thought was always there, somewhere in the shadows of my mind, that Eric might not be with us for very long; I vainly believed that I had armored my heart against loving him too much.
Every year, I think to myself, he would be "this many" years old now if he had lived. He would be "this big" if he had lived. He would be so many things if he had lived. To this day, I still cry when I talk about him.
I used to be pro-choice. I used to think that an unborn baby was a fetus. I used to think that a severely deformed child would be better off not being born. I used to think I knew what life was all about; that I had experienced enough "living" to take these kinds of moral stances.
Eric proved me wrong.
****
Sometimes, children like this are brought into the world to change the hearts of the people around them. That is their mission; that is their purpose. And they can do it in a way that is 1000 times more effective than any adult could.
The story implies that the mother took a teratogen, possibly intentionally and as part of a drug study.
For God's reasons, we can't expect to always know and understand the ways of the Creator of the Universe. I used to remind my kids that the ants couldn't understand why I dug up a flower bed, either.
Or, from the Author:
Job 38:1 Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said,
Job 38:2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?
Job 38:3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.
Job 38:4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.
Job 38:5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it?
Job 38:6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;
Job 38:7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?
Job 38:8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it broke forth, as if it had issued out of the womb?
Job 38:9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddling band for it,
Job 38:10 And broke up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors,
Job 38:11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?
Job 38:12 Hast thou commanded the morning since thy days; and caused the dayspring to know his place;
Job 38:13 That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, that the wicked might be shaken out of it?
Job 38:14 It is turned as clay to the seal; and they stand as a garment.
Job 38:15 And from the wicked their light is withheld, and the high arm shall be broken.
Job 38:16 Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea? or hast thou walked in the search of the depth?
Job 38:17 Have the gates of death been opened unto thee? or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?
Job 38:18 Hast thou perceived the breadth of the earth? declare if thou knowest it all.
Job 38:19 Where is the way where light dwelleth? and as for darkness, where is the place thereof,
Job 38:20 That thou shouldest take it to the bound thereof, and that thou shouldest know the paths to the house thereof?
Job 38:21 Knowest thou it, because thou wast then born? or because the number of thy days is great?
Job 38:22 Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail,
Job 38:23 Which I have reserved against the time of trouble, against the day of battle and war?
Job 38:24 By what way is the light parted, which scattereth the east wind upon the earth?
Job 38:25 Who hath divided a watercourse for the overflowing of waters, or a way for the lightning of thunder;
Job 38:26 To cause it to rain on the earth, where no man is; on the wilderness, wherein there is no man;
Job 38:27 To satisfy the desolate and waste ground; and to cause the bud of the tender herb to spring forth?
Job 38:28 Hath the rain a father? or who hath begotten the drops of dew?
Job 38:29 Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven, who hath engendered it?
Job 38:30 The waters are hid as with a stone, and the face of the deep is frozen.
Job 38:31 Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?
Job 38:32 Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?
Job 38:33 Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth?
Job 38:34 Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee?
Job 38:35 Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are?
Job 38:36 Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts? or who hath given understanding to the heart?
Job 38:37 Who can number the clouds in wisdom? or who can stay the bottles of heaven,
Job 38:38 When the dust groweth into hardness, and the clods cleave fast together?
Job 38:39 Wilt thou hunt the prey for the lion? or fill the appetite of the young lions,
Job 38:40 When they couch in their dens, and abide in the covert to lie in wait?
Job 38:41 Who provideth for the raven his food? when his young ones cry unto God, they wander for lack of meat.
Certainly God allows this to happen, but He doesn't will it to happen. Otherwise, God would will evil.
This is the best, reasonably brief, treatment of the problem of evil that I've ever read.
The short answer is to look at the Cross. God, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, humbled Himself, taking on human form, to suffer and die for our salvation. Why does God allow this baby to suffer? Why did He allow Himself to suffer?
If He doesn't, you certainly can't chalk such a catastrophic birth defect up to some human's free will.
In a sense we can, since Creation fell as mankind fell. (See the link above for a full treatment of this question).
Christians have "whys" too and I have been known to be far from chirper at times. During those times however, we are probably closer to God, than ever though, praying and asking questions. Accepting His will be done , knowing that he knows things that we don't, and that he can use bad for good, can be a struggle but if you can get there, you will know peace. I was serious that in the end all will be well with this child but that she has a purpose now. What is it? I don't know. Maybe , it is to touch someone's heart at that hospital that seems rather cold. Maybe it is to touch the heart of that reporter that seems to be drawn towards her but by his pictures almost afraid to get too close. Maybe it is for us, right here that see her, to touch our hearts in some special way? Lot's of maybes. We don't know but there is a calmness, in trusting that the Lord is watching over this baby.