Titus Michael.
A precious miracle...
At the beginning of December 2009, Michael went in for his routine MRI scan. The results showed new growth on the right side of his frontal lobe. Was it scar tissue? Maybe. Could it be tumor? Possibly. The doctor recommended a higher quality MRI to be taken just to be sure. He was hopeful that the results would indicate radiation damage or delayed scaring from treatment...so were we.
In November, just one month before, Michael and I sat in another doctor’s office. This doctor, however, wasn’t so hopeful. He looked at us and delivered the news any young couple dreads to hear: we had a very slight chance of ever getting pregnant on our own. At this time, Michael had been off chemo for a whole year. He had been on continuous chemotherapy, however, the previous two years. For much of those two years, to relieve swelling caused by multiple surgeries and treatment, he was on a steroid prescription. When chemicals as harsh as chemotherapy and steroids are ingested into your body for that long, destruction happens. His whole body was affected. In fact, Michael had to continually see multiple doctors for various issues throughout his four year battle with cancer. This doctor happened to be one of them. After delivering the news, he smiled a sympathetic smile, handed us a packet of infertility options and showed us to the door. As we walked back to our car that day, I remember Michael turning to me. He smiled his all too familiar, sad, but very brave smile and said, “well, that wasn’t the news we wanted to hear.” As we drove home, I stared at that infertility packet. Michael looked over at me and then reached for my hand. I don’t remember what we talked about on our drive or if we even talked at all. I think we both, deep down, had expected that news. As hard as it was, I just remember thinking that it is probably best this way. The packet we brought home ended up in a back drawer...or maybe even the trash can. I don’t really remember. All I remember is that I never saw it again.
It took awhile, but MDAnderson finally got the approval they needed from our insurance company and were therefore able to schedule a more invasive MRI for the end of December. Due to the possibility of swelling, a prescription was called in. Michael was back on steroids.
Mid December, I got a call from one of my dearest friends, Amber Frazier. Amber and I met our Freshman year of college and clicked immediately. We remained inseparatable till graduation. There are really no words to describe how I feel about her. She is by far, one of my closest and very best friends. I love her and her sweet husband Justin, dearly. This summer, I read a quote in a Galveston gift shop, and it actually stopped me in my tracks. It was printed on a block of wood and read “When it hurts to look back, and you’re afraid to look ahead, just look beside you and there will be your friends.” Although this quote is true of so many friends in my life...it is especially true of the Fraziers. No matter what we were going through...there they were. There they have always been. Right beside us. I am so very blessed to be able to call them my friends. Having said that, you can just imagine how thrilled I was to see her name pop up on my phone that day. Needless to say, it had been a rough couple of weeks. Michael wasn’t doing well...I wasn’t doing well. We had both fallen into a state of depression. The waiting...the not knowing...it wasn’t good for us. I had just gotten home from a long day of work and was sitting in the car with my seat leaned all the way back. I dreaded going into our apartment. I didn’t feel good...I knew Michael didn’t feel good. His personality had begun to change drastically and I didn’t always know how to handle it. I just needed a break...I needed to talk to a friend. My phone couldn’t have rang at a better time. As we talked, it didn’t take me long to notice the excitement in her voice. She started off the conversation by telling me how tired she had been, how nauseous she had been feeling, and how she would run out of energy so quickly during the day. As she continued talking, her excitement grew. Soon, it was obvious what she was trying to tell me. They were pregnant! The baby’s expected due date: August 13th.
I smiled as I hung up the phone. I couldn’t have been happier for them. I leaned my seat up and opened the door. As I stepped out, I was overcome with nausea...nausea that had become all too familiar over the last few weeks. I began walking to our front door and had to literally focus on placing one foot in front of the other. I was so tired. I couldn’t help but compare my symptoms to Amber’s. I remember actually thinking to myself “Here I am, sick as a pregnant woman...except...I’m not pregnant! I probably have an ulcer or something. Or who knows, it could be something worse...I probably have cancer too...ugh! I just want to go throw-up!”
(And throw-up I did. Almost everyday for the next 14 or so weeks following that conversation. Michael joined me over the toilet bowl more than once during those awful months. He was so sick too. A few people joked that they were going to get us “His and Hers” puke bowls. The initial thought of that would make us laugh...and then, when we really thought about it...our depression would increase. As convenient as those bowls would have been, I am so thankful, for their sake, that nobody actually followed through with that gift idea. In the dreadful state we both were in, I am afraid to think what could have happened to the poor soul who was just trying to make light of a really dark situation.)
You see, a week or so after my talk with Amber, my symptoms didn’t get better. In fact, they just got worse. As absurd as it was to pick up a pregnancy test at the store, I did it anyways. I just needed to rule it out.
That afternoon, however, I sat at home...staring at the second line appearing on the test. Speechless. One line means you’re not pregnant. Two lines mean you are. I was, to say the least, in a literal state of shock. I didn’t say anything...to anybody. The next morning, I took another test. Same results. Two lines. I was pregnant.
I told Michael a couple of days later. (I think it took me that long because I was literally in a state of denial. No way this could be possible!) He was as shocked as I was. What in the world were we supposed to do with this news? Our life was crazy. So shaky and unpredictable. We barely told anyone the news and didn’t even really talk about it with each other. It should have been the happiest moment of a young couple’s life...but for us, it wasn’t. We were both scared. Terrified of what was to come.
Michael had his scheduled MRI at the end of December. The results were the same as before. Weeks on steroids hadn’t changed anything. The possibility of radiation damage decreased and the possibility of tumor increased. A biopsy was scheduled for January.
About a week or so after the biopsy, we went in for the results. Michael had another Glioblastoma, Grade 4 brain tumor. Surgery was not an option. Once a treatment plan was set in motion, with downcast hearts, we went home. The next morning, I had an appointment. The doctor did a sonogram and in amazement we both watched as our baby’s heart beat and his arms and legs kicked. It was confirmed that I was 10 weeks pregnant. Expected due date: August 17th.
We shared the news with family and friends at this point and not too long after, Michael began chemotherapy and radiation once again. This time, it affected him drastically. It affected him...not the tumor. The tumor continued to grow.
As time went on, I started feeling better. Michael, however, got worse.
It soon became clear that we needed help. I couldn’t leave Michael at home by himself all day anymore. It killed me to walk out the door in the mornings. Often, he wouldn’t have the energy to answer the phone when I called; therefore, I would just worry. I rushed home everyday and often, as I walked in the door, my heart would sink. He would still be in bed. I started running home during my lunch and conference times. I would force food down him and make him sit up for a while. I was exhausted. What were we going to do? He was sick and only getting worse. My dad’s death was still so fresh on my mind...on my heart, and...I was pregnant.
“Lord? Where are you?!”
One very difficult night, I was on the phone with my mom. My strength was utterly spent and emotionally, I was a mess. She offered to let us move in with her.
“Here I am.”
Our apartment manager let us out of our lease four months early with no penalty. She even made sure we got our complete deposit back.
“Here I am.”
As summer neared and things were still uncertain at home, I went to my principal and told him that I didn’t think I was going to be able to come back to work for the 2010-2011 school year. The thought of it was just making me sick. He was absolutely wonderful and extremely supportive. Although I was prepared to go on COBRA, he fought hard in administration and allowed us to stay on the school’s medical insurance until the following January. Such a tremendous blessing. One that I will forever be grateful for.
“Here I am.”
Soon, we found out that we were having a baby boy! At that ultrasound, however, the technician thought she saw a tiny hole in his heart. My doctor then referred us to a high risk doctor downtown. We had an appointment set up for that next week. I cried all the way home that day...a day that should have been so exciting...turned into, yet again, something so fearful. Michael’s response? “Don’t we all have a hole in our hearts when we are born? One that we need Jesus to fill? We just need to pray that Jesus fills that hole in his heart.” I remember rolling my eyes at that comment. Often that year, Michael would say strange things...things that were just so off. His brain was so damaged and more often than not he came across very insensitive or extremely inappropriate. I am not sure what exactly I needed him to say in that moment, but what he chose to say was definitely NOT it. Once I got home and thought about his statement, however, I realized the truth in his words. Regardless as to whether or not our baby would be born with a physical problem...he would indeed be born with a spiritual one. I realized at that moment that I hadn’t prayed for him at all. I had been so consumed with everything else going on in my life. My own fears. My own troubles. My own insecurities. My own frustrations. I had neglected to love or even to pray for the life inside of me. That day, however, I began to pray for our little boy...for his heart; and that Jesus, in His great mercy, would indeed "fill" it. Thank you Michael.
After a full examination and a very detailed ultrasound, the high-risk doctor turned and looked at me. “I see no hole” he said confidently. You have a very healthy baby boy inside of you! Congratulations!
“Here I am.”
On August 5th, Brynn Marie was born to Amber and Justin. She was absolutely beautiful!
Two weeks later, Titus Michael was born. August 19, 2010 at 4:15 pm. He weighed 9 lbs 1oz and was 21 and a half inches long. He too was beautiful! He was BIG! He was healthy! He was a precious miracle.
“Here I am.”
Although the next few months following Titus' birth are more of a blur in my mind than a memory, I will forever be grateful for the time that Michael got to spend with sweet Titus. They shared some very special moments together; moments that I will be able to share with Titus for the rest of my life. For that, I am so very thankful.
Bright and early one morning in Hospice, Michael’s aunt came up to me. She had been reading through 2 Corinthians. During her reading that morning she had come across a very special verse and wanted to share it with me. “But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus.” 2 Corinthians 7:6. I just stood there and stared at her. I asked her to read it again as tears filled my eyes.
“Here I am.”
Initially, I may have questioned God's timing or purpose in giving us as baby, but I do so no longer. I am so very thankful for Titus and for the purpose that he has given me in this life. Every time that I look at him, I am reminded of God's faithful hand and of His great love for His children. Titus has brought me so much joy this year. His smile lights up my heart in a way that nothing else can. He is absolutely wonderful and I feel extremely honored to be his mommy.
He is one year old today! I can't believe it. He is truly a beautiful gift. A precious blessing from the Lord.
As our prayer was in the beginning, so mine will continue to be: “As Titus Michael grows, may you, sweet Jesus, “fill his heart” and draw him close to Your side.”
Happy Birthday sweet boy! I love you so very much.
