EVEN YEARS AGO, my then 5-week-old daughter, Robyn, became ill with a high fever. I was frantic and called our pediatrician, who advised me to bring her to the hospital immediately. Upon our arrival at the hospital, a nurse whisked Robyn away to draw blood and perform many other tests. The doctor decided she also needed to have a spinal tap. She explained the risks that were associated with the procedure, but said this might be the best way to find out what was wrong with my daughter.

We agreed to the procedure and signed the consent forms. I remember holding Robyn so tight and wishing that I could be laying there in her place. We finally got settled in to our room late that night. Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke to a commotion in our room beside Robyn’s crib and jumped up to see what all the fuss was about. Robyn had developed a rash all over her tiny body. The nurses called her doctor immediately and early that morning, she told us she wanted to airlift Robyn to another hospital. I was terrified at the thought of her being in a helicopter without me, but I had to let her go.

When we arrived at the hospital, Robyn had already been placed in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and was hooked up to several machines. I hated that! The doctor there told us Robyn was critical and that we should prepare ourselves for the worst, because it appeared she had meningococcus. However, he said he wouldn’t be positive until the results of the spinal tap came back. We were told that Robyn had a 50-50 chance of surviving her illness; even if she managed to survive, there was a significant possibility that she could have brain damage, or lose her sight or hearing.

He said the antibiotics would do about half the work, and her tiny body would have to do the rest. For four days we waited to see if she would pull through, and over this time, we had people in several states praying. We prayed day and night. At one point, I remember thinking that Robyn’s illness was a punishment for my having a baby so young. I know different now, but that’s what was going through my mind. As the days went by, which seemed like an eternity, Robyn began to improve. I sat at her side and sang “You Are My Sunshine,” probably a million times.

The doctors and nurses were amazed at the recovery Robyn made. After numerous tests to check her hearing and vision, everything appeared to be fine. The doctor said that it would be some time before we would be able to assess any brain damage that could have occurred as a result of Robyn’s illness. However, she is 7 years old now and as healthy a child as anyone could hope and pray for.

Robyn and I have been through a lot together, including the death of her father almost three years ago. But I remind her that everything happens for a reason and to always be thankful for the good things in life, especially the miracles. She will always be my little miracle.

Erica Chambers
nursing resources
CHRISTUS St. Michael Health System
Texarkana, Texas