The Puzzle of Elijah. Olga Anischenko

parents continued to help with our children, while Oleg was with me at the hospital. That morning we realized how lucky we were to have parents near us during such critical time.

      …….

      A nurse brought me an electric breast pump to pump the first colostrum for our baby. I sat up in my hospital bed and started pumping, but didn’t know if my baby would ever drink it. I couldn’t believe this was my new reality. My first three children were all healthy. They were with me in the room after birth and I breastfed them. I knew it was important for our baby to drink colostrum, but he couldn’t yet; he was being fed through an IV. The nurse brought me more bottles and labels. I attached the label to the bottle and the nurse took my milk to NICU to be frozen.

      The cardiologist ordered an echo cardiogram of our baby’s heart. With hope, we patiently waited for the results. Soon the cardiologist came back and said, “Unfortunately, the echo cardiogram of your baby’s heart showed that all the predicted problems are still there. Your baby may not survive.”

      He gave us a list of our baby’s diagnoses:

      Right dominant unbalanced atrioventricular septal defect with large primum ASD;

      Second superior secundum ASD;

      Inlet VSD;

      Hypoplastic left ventricle;

      Severely hypoplastic aortic arch with severe coarctation;

      Large patent ductus arteriosus;

      Ex-30-week premature infant.

      We didn’t understand all of the medical terms, but knew there were many problems with our son’s heart. When the doctor left, we were quiet for a while.

      “I feel like God doesn’t hear us,” Oleg finally spoke. “Why doesn’t He help us? What about the prophecies that others had told us that God would heal our baby in the womb? Why had individuals prophesied that which is not true?”

      Reality set in. Maybe God was stronger in Oleg, because he was still in a supportive role in his trust of God. I, on the other hand, questioned, “How can a loving God do this to my baby? Is it a God I still want to love and believe in?”

      “Olga, we need to accept God’s will,” Oleg tried to answer my questions. “People can be wrong. They can tell us things that hurt us. They can prophecise what may not come true, but God is God. We have to believe in Him. He is there. He is alive. He will help us.”

      That day was difficult for both of us, but we ultimately decided to accept God’s will and move forward with our lives. We now had a son who would require vast amounts of our attention and care, and somehow, we would have to make accommodations within our and our children’s lives.

      …….

      6

      You never realize how lucky you are with a healthy

      child, until you have an ill child.

      Our friends and relatives called us, worrying about me and my baby. But that day, I asked for visitors not to come because I couldn’t move, had lots of pain and needed rest. We appreciated our friends’ and relatives’ support. Even too many doctors and nurses kept coming in and out from my room.

      When I had a moment, I called my Mother.

      “Our baby has been born, but he is very ill,” I broke in tears while talking to Mom.

      “Olga, please be strong. I feel your pain, my Daughter, and I wish I could help you, but what can I do? We will be praying. I know God has been healing other people. He will help. We will take care of your children. I will help you with meals. Tell Oleg to stop by any time. I will give him food to eat,” my Mother cried on the other end of the phone, while trying to ease my concerns.

      Because of our son’s critical condition, I wasn’t able to breastfeed him or do the skin-to-skin contact. I knew this was important because in my job at WIC that was what I taught new mothers. I knew the skin-to-skin contact would enhance our son’s immune system. It would provide him better oxygenation, better heart rate and better temperature. He was all alone in an incubator, surrounded by wires, tubes and pumps with medications. I knew that the nurses were taking good care of him, but he was my baby and I was missing him. He and I were separated. Surprisingly, I was at peace. Oleg also felt at peace. He stayed with me that whole day and the next night.

      …….

      By the morning, the anesthesia was no longer affecting my body and the magnesium medication was stopped. The itching ended and, finally, I was able to sleep. I no longer felt dizzy and could walk with the nurse’s help. I was beginning to feel better and thanked God!

      I received a phone call from my former co-worker, Kathy.

      “Olga, I am coming to visit you!” she said.

      At the same time, Oleg received a phone call from his cousin, Eddie.

      “I am coming to visit you, brother.”

      Eddie and Kathy arrived at about the same time, so Oleg spent time with Eddie and I spent time with Kathy. Kathy brought me two cards, one from her and one from my former co-worker Marge. I started reading them and the words from one of the cards made me cry. It said, “God knows everything you are going through and He will help you…”

      Kathy comforted me. It was wonderful to have such friends, who worried about me and brought me cards that showed hope.

      “Olga, I would like to see your baby,” Kathy said.

      “I haven’t seen my baby myself,” I answered. “I felt so awful yesterday after the anesthesia and all medications, but I feel a lot better today. We can go see my baby together.”

      “Walking that far would be impossible for me.”

      I looked at Oleg.

      “How will I get there? I am on the 14^th floor and our baby is on the 12^th. Is it far?”

      “It is pretty far,” Oleg answered. “You will need to take a wheelchair.”

      “No way. Wheelchairs are for disabled people. But now I have to use one?”

      I wanted to see my baby so much, I complied with the rules and went to the NICU in a wheelchair. Kathy pushed it for me, while Oleg and his cousin walked behind us. We arrived at the NICU.

      “Only three healthy visitors can see your baby at a time,” the clerk explained. “No children are allowed, only siblings.”

      We signed in and washed our hands all the way up to the elbows. Then we went to the last room at the end of the hall, where the smallest babies were. Because there were four of us, Eddie waited in the hall and then came in after Kathy left. Four doctors were by our son’s bed. The doctors greeted us and told the updates on the baby.

      “The last two days we have been worried and didn’t think that your baby would live. But he lives, so we are planning to meet with the surgeon and come up with a care plan for your son.”

      After the doctors left, I looked around the room. There were four other raised beds with tiny babies, covered with a glass lid and small blankets. I realized our family was not the only family with problems. There was a baby who was even smaller than our baby. Two nurses were taking care of babies in that room. Some parents sat in the rocking chairs by their baby’s bed. Our son’s bed had a sign on it: “Anischenko Baby” with tiny footprints on it and the baby’s weight and length: 3lb 1 ounce and 14 inches.

      With Oleg’s help, I got out of the wheelchair and came closer to the incubator.

      “Our baby is so tiny!” surprised, I told Oleg. “David, Kristina and Michael were all 8 pounds at birth. I never imagined that our fourth baby would be only 3 pounds.”

      Two rounded windows were on each side of the incubator. The nurse and Kathy were staying