Evangeline--Little Butterfly

Evangeline Noel Bergeron is now 2 1/2 years old and nearly every day has seemed a miracle. First, our little footling breach, born caesarean section on her due date was just so DIFFERENT from our three boys that we could not fathom she belonged to the Bergerons. Then beginning at four months of age, she began to lose weight. First she fussed while nursing. Then, by 7 months of age, she wouldn't nurse at all. Nor would she take a bottle. And every bit of solid food that we tried elicited an agonizing series of allergic reactions.

The appointments with doctors and myriad blood tests began. The first diagnosis: "failure to thrive" as though that answered our unspoken questions and our worst fears. Brian and I and those around us searched each others' eyes for answers, no one daring to say what we were all thinking: She was growing thinner. The first blood tests came back revealing abnormal liver and thyroid functions. Subsequent tests only confirmed what we could now see--jaundice brought about from a failing liver. We tried all of the formulas and all of the tricks of geting them into her emaciated body but to no avail. She began to reject all foods, either vomiting them up or her body issuing violent complaints through rashes and diarrhea. We began to beg and plead with the Lord, to bargain with the Lord, issuing ultimatums we could not hope to keep.

After a few weeks of frustration and desperation, a friend mentioned to me that I ought to keep a food diary of the foods I was eating. I registered the typical reaction that most people do when they hear the "food diary" phrase: "What good will it do? She doesn't nurse except in the morning anyway. Her reactions are so different and so unexpected that I'm sure it won't help. Even if I discovered the foods to which she is allergic, she won't eat anything anyway..." But, like most people who eventually subject themselves to the food diary, I was so desperate that we tried it. Lo and behold I learned a LOT in one week. Not only dairy products but wheat and pineapple and soy and sugar were all wreaking havoc on her defenseless system. We had something to share with the pediatric gastroenterologist--if only he'd believe us! Lo and behold, by the grace of God, he did; and then he referred us to the pediatric allergist. After a few trips to the allergist and a few discussions with him, we had both me and Evangeline off of all products containing even traces and derivatives of dairy, wheat, sugar, and soy. It was an exhausting task requiring better eyesight than any normal person possesses (have you tried to read 25 tiny labels in a grocery store with four small children in your cart?) but one in which I was bolstered and strengthened by my good friend Shonda who was going through something similar with her daughter Leah, born 2 weeks after Evangeline!

A few more months passed and Evangeline began to get healthy again. Her color came back to peaches and cream instead of nuke yellow. She gained weight, first in ounces and then in pounds. She was still developmentally delayed but she actually began to do something besides sleep. She was curious about her environment and finally played sweet little games with us. She began to laugh. And we all laughed with her for pure joy.

On her first birthday, I remember thanking the Lord for his perfect act of deliverance. We did not deserve to have this beautiful daughter who was actually growing. She belonged to the Lord. He had kept her perfectly even when our faith had faltered.

Three days later, as though to test our hope, we checked into the Panama City hospital with a listless baby who would not stop vomiting. Within a few hours, her little body was swelling up with fluid and nurses were running everywhere. The doctor appeared back in our room, though she'd only just left. They were planning to do a CAT scan and a kidney scan and then they would be taking us by emergency transport to Pensacola, to the children's hospital. Our new enemy was a word called "Acidotic," an alkalinity of the blood sometimes brought about by failure of the kidneys. As I continued to recite the litany of her allergies to every professional who entered the room, we all grasped at straws for answers and Brian and I prayed and begged the Lord to save her unresponsive body.

About an hour later, shortly before her CAT scan, she vomited suddenly in my lap. The nurse with us at the time looked at the mess and said "What in the WORLD did she eat? That looks like poison!" To make this long story less long, suffice it to say that it wasn't poison from a cupboard. It was poison (e.coli) from the hurricane-damaged beaches of Panama City, as we were to find out later upon visiting the nephrologist. Crisis averted by a strategic (thank you Jesus) bout of vomiting...

We brought Evangeline home and nursed her back to vitality and health, only to take her once more to the hospital in Panama City, severely dehydrated by vomiting. This time it was "just" a virus but her condition was further complicated by allergic reactions to the intravenous antibiotics and oral medications they gave her. The hospital stays were getting shorter and we had reason to be thankful; but my Mommy Tolerance was getting thinner. Every sound she made at home had me jumping with fright and beset by doubts about my competence as a mother. She continued to have bouts of vomiting that seriously depleted her system and the weight that we'd so painstakingly helped her to gain. When, O Lord, would this trial be over?

As we left Florida for Oregon, we were certain that a healthy dose of Western air was what she needed. She was vomiting when we left Florida but seemed to be fine upon our arrival in Louisiana. A week in Cajun country seemed to do her little French Canadian body some good; but by the time we'd seen the Grand Canyon she was vomiting again. Brian took her to the hospital in Phoenix to get her enough fluids so that we could make it to Hemet, our hometown; but by day three of our stay in Hemet it was apparent to everyone that she would have to be admitted again. After ten days of fighting this monster virus, she finally rallied back to health, leaving us wondering if she'd had a run-in with a viral type of meningitis (we never had a spinal tap performed on her).

In the ten months and one birthday that have passed since her last hospitalization, Evangeline has spent her time growing and making up for much lost time. Friends and family often ask the question, "Is she well?" The fact is that we really cannot know what God has done in her body or what He has planned for her future. We can say one thing with grins from ear to ear, "She is getting VERY chubby!"

Although most people who observe her see her as very reserved, she doesn't know the meaning of the word around her brothers. She is showing a little girl's penchant to take charge and to (gulp!) shriek quite readily at the first sign of danger or resistance. She is beginning to make connections, often to hilarious effect. Last night I pointed out the rainbow in the picture of Noah and the ark and said to her "Evangeline, why did God put the rainbow in the sky?" She said, with characteristic certainty, "Because He wanted to play with it."

She loves all creatures "baby" whether stuffed or real. Currently her obsession is with the photos of her newest baby cousin Abigail (on my side); but while we were home for Christmas, it was all talk of Baby Sophia, her brand new cousin on her daddy's side.

Two nights ago, we were cleaning up the wooden pizza and I said to her "Eva, please go get the rest of the pieces." She responded "No, Mommy, I can't because they lost." I countered, "Eva, where did you have them last?" She responded, "Mommy, they lost in da livin room." I tried again, "Evangeline please go look for them in the living room." Her response? "Mommy, no fwuitless ahguments, okay?"

How we do praise God for the very breathing of Evangeline's precious body and for her active mind. We do not deserve to have her here and yet here she is, saying "Where my seconds?" at the dinner table, asking for "Jesus Loves Me" when we tuck her into bed, and begging us to pray with her. She is our priceless reminder that the mercies of the Lord are even for undeserving sinners such as us.

And one "sideways benefit": You will never call the process of building a house "stressful" if you've first experienced a near-miss with one of your children!