Baby Bergly: Choosing To Fight Anyway

No matter how many miracles (on every scale) that we witness on a daily basis – whenever a rescue doesn’t end in success it is painful. It is painful because in choosing to fight for a child’s life we are choosing to be attached. To love. To go all in. Even when it doesn’t look promising. Even when it doesn’t even look hopeful. Aware of the potential pain in hopes of the potential success. And choosing to fight anyway.

Tonight my heart isn’t hurting for Bergly.

It actually makes me smile a little knowing that he has no more exhausted cries that sound like light little hums or emotional meltdowns (on his behalf) to get any kind of food into his belly. At two years old Bergly weighed only 11 lbs. (ya that’s right, what you probably weighed at birth) and any sense of exerted energy was just about too much for his little body to handle without a nap. And when I say exerted energy I mean swatting my hands away for too long and/or thinking of strategic ways to get the food out of his mouth before I got it back in. It really took it out of the little fella.

Tonight my heart is not hurting for him, but for his young mother who is about to receive news that her baby died. That she won’t even able to be there, to say goodbye, or to grieve at a burial. Just continue on with life as usual, as if he never was. My heart is hurting because I can not even imagine how her heart will be hurting.

I am grateful, however, that along with the news of baby Bergly’s passing we are able to sincerely say that he didn’t go down without a fight. That there were many people working on his behalf… staying up nights and monitoring him each day. Interceding on his behalf to the God who created him and numbered his days. There were people caring for him and loving him and taking care of his mother and brother. I am grateful for The Real Hope for Haiti and how they were willing to take him on, knowing his severity, and fight for him until the very last moment.

Bergly is only one of many stories of complications within malnutrition. The inevitable effects of a food crisis, a country in crisis, and a family in crisis. Stories like his are taking place many times every minute. Unknown names. Unknown faces. So often fading from this earth only known and loved by Jesus. One more reason I am so grateful to all who are making it possible for Danita to make our Medical Center a reality. So Mom’s like Bergly’s don’t have to spend the rest of her life wondering what her baby boy would have grown up to be like.

Psalm 34:18 “Our Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and he saves those who are crushed in their spirits.

Our Lord is always with us, but especially close in the moments that break our hearts. And tonight my broken hearted prayer is for Bergly’s mom. That she would find peace within the tragic reality and pain of losing a child after two years of a desperate struggle, and that she would know that God hears her hurt and He is present… even when she can’t identify Him.

… and that her sweet baby boy is safe, happy, and whole.

His eye is on the sparrow: Baby Rescue Program

A.K.A. one of the best parts of my week!

Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration because I truly love my life here… bbbuuttt, there aren’t many things better than squeezing the cheeks of some cute little babies while praying that they gained weight!

ISMYLOVE (get it... her name is Ismylove, as in... [she]ismylove. Clever, I know. — ISMYLOVE (get it… her name is Ismylove, as in… [she]ismylove. Clever, I know.

Truth: One of them hates me. His name is Vena and this is his second go around in this program. The first time he was with us he was the most finicky child I’ve ever seen. Only wanted to drink out of a red solo cup. After that was used for a bath one day, he would have nothing to do with is. For weeks he was so sweet and tender, laying in my lap all day while I worked… then he mustered up enough energy and this is what he looked like at most times:

We just re-enrolled him into the program… and he still is pretty ticked off with life. He is three years old now and has regressed back into the extremely malnourished bracket. Who knew I could love someone so much who cries if I even look at him for too long.

Isabella - she fell off of a table as a newborn and has a skull fracture. Living miracle! — Isabella – she fell off of a table as a newborn and has a skull fracture. Living miracle!

I am grateful to walk this journey with these little guys and celebrate as they recover using the Medika Mamba, peanut butter based baby food. Pray with us for each of them (Vena, Valmyr, Ismylove, Junior, and Isabella) and I will keep you updated along the way.

God is love. Pass it on.

You Shall Live & Not Die

When we arrived he was lying all alone. Alone in a dark room with two beds and an iv stand. Alone on urine soaked sheets and crying for someone to take him to the toilet.

Reason #762 as to why we can’t finish our medical center fast enough.

Witson’s mother took him, at four years old and only 16 pounds, in desperation to the hospital in our village. Knowing that she had no money and his condition was so advanced, they based his value on mere dollars, a liability of wasted time, and chose not to commit to his recovery. They sent them both away, back into the street. His abs protrude from his stomach and every rib in his chest is visible. It seems painful just for him to breathe.

Unfortunately, in the lifestyle of survival the value of a human life is compromised for the sake of the remaining family. If one child is sick it is easier to sacrifice that child – and not feed him – in order to keep the others progressing.

In lieu of that they sent him to Danita’s Children. We have no iv’s, no equipment in place, no staff, yet the best hospital in town sent this dying boy to us, knowing that we are the only place in Ounaminthe willing to take a risk for a human life. Willing to go all in. Willing to commit to save a life so valued by our God. And now the same hospital that sent him away sees that after only two days of treatment he is showing extreme signs of recovery. The same boy that they were so quick to let go unnoticed.

You think the life of a missionary is so glamorous? It’s really just being willing to do the little things. The sometimes gross things. Because they’re worth it. It’s continually walking into a dark room at a hospital in our village to ensure that our patient wasn’t put out on the street since our last visit. It’s carrying his fragile urine soaked little body to the toilet and sitting there with him while he struggles and is in pain. It’s then changing the soaked sheets that he has been lying in for hours because no one on staff at the hospital has even stopped to check. It’s continually checking his eyes to ensure that he hasn’t entered into a coma. It’s sitting by his bed, while people sit and wait in desperation for help outside in the hall, continually pleading for a life, declaring Psalm 118 over his little spirit, “You shall live and not die, and declare the work of the Lord.”

One day soon we will not have to beg for people to take risks with us. We will not have to plead with this community to commit for the sake of one human life. We will receive those in desperation and do everything possible to begin them on a journey to recovery.

Because they’re worth it.