April 17, 2008

Editors Note: This is a story that JD sent me this morning. Hang on....


I was married on October 3rd, 1998. My father died 5 days later. We found out soon after that we were pregnant with our first child. This was exciting news that would bring joy into a time tainted with sorrow. But this too, would change.

On March 31st of 1999, my wife and I were told fateful news that would forever change our lives. During a routine ultrasound of the baby, the doctors found a problem. Our unborn child had a sick heart. To say we were devastated would be an understatement. Garrett was diagnosed in Utero with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, which is a rare but fatal congenital heart defect. The left side of Garrett’s heart did not develop in the womb and doctors gave us, as we saw it, only three choices. We could do nothing, and Garrett would die within days of being born. We could move to another state, where the altitude was better and opt for a long series of intrusive and complicated operations. These operations are aimed at re-routing his existing “plumbing” so that he could probably live, but did not give an opportunity of what we thought would be a fairly normal life. The last, was to pray that a matching donor heart would become available and opt for a heart transplant. Medical intervention would be needed 24 hours a day until the transplant, and Garrett was given only 4-6 months to live without a new heart.

I cannot express the rainbow of emotions we felt. Both of us had always wanted children, and now we were faced with the distinct possibility that our only child may die. To compound our anguish, we realized that another child’s life would be lost in order for Garrett’s to be saved. We prayed so very hard for God to help us find grace and strength to carry us through. We knew that this little life belonged to our Lord, but we begged Him to help us understand His will, and hoped it would be for us to keep our son. We prayed for the unknown donor family, and asked God to give them strength enough to help us. If a child must die, then let him or her not die in vain. In Garrett’s case, if he died we would not be able to donate his organs because he had an existing condition. He’d never be able medically to help another life….or would he?

The Childrens Hospital (TCH) in Denver, we found, is world renowned for their infant heart transplant program. We had never even thought a child could need such a procedure, but learned that TCH had done over 100 transplants in the past 10 years. We were blessed to be so close to the best, but in order to qualify for their stringent program meant we needed to be within a “response” distance from TCH. To do this, Kathy had to quit her job, and we would have to move to Denver. I would commute some 150 miles each day and keep my law enforcement job.

On a Sunday night in April, we were on our way home from church when I was overcome with emotion. I missed my dad terribly, and my baby was critically ill. The tears ran down my face because I could not seem to find peace, still knowing that God would take care of my family. Why couldn’t I give it all to Him? What of my child? What of my new wife? What of my mother, now widowed and alone? What of my animals? How could I possibly afford to keep our property, and yet afford a safe apartment in Denver of all places, on one income? How could I do all of this? I had apparently forgotten Saint Paul’s teachings where he told us to concentrate on the things in Heaven, not the things here on earth. I asked Jesus to forgive me. I had been a cop since 1983, and had been “fixing” other peoples problems in 20 minutes or less for many years. Now I was faced with the toughest fight of my life, and I asked Jesus to teach me how to pray so that I may fully give all my troubles to Him. I could no longer be the warrior. I needed Jesus to carry this fight.

The very next day, Kathy and I headed to Denver to search for an apartment. It was like looking for a specific grain of sand on the beach. We stopped in Colorado Springs and met with a preacher friend for lunch on our way. He is a good friend whom the Lord had blessed into my life a few years ago. Grant prayed with us and asked Jesus to guide us and care for us in our plight. Before the day was done, our prayers were answered with a secure apartment building only 5 miles from the hospital. The apartment rented for about $1200.00 a month, but the building owners had recently entered and agreement with a local charity to help families of children, who are displaced while at TCH. For $300.00 a month, this was to become home for the next year.

While we had found a place to live, I still worried about home. Within a few days, my sister called. She and her husband, who just retired from the Air force, were looking for a place to stay with their four boys while he searched for a new job. They moved into our place just as we moved to Denver. Now mom was taken care of, someone would watch over the home place.

Two months before Garrett was born, he was placed on a national donor waiting list through the Donor Alliance. The call we wanted never came, and Garrett ‘Fritz’ Ross was born on June 8, 1999. That day, my Lord blessed me with a gift I can never repay. I delivered my son, and gave him to his momma. He was beet red, mad as a hornet, …and beautiful. How could this child be sick? He looked too perfect. But within minutes, Garrett began to change. He was taken to a high level critical care unit and started on an I.V. medicine that would help keep him alive while we waited for a heart. Within hours, he was taken by Flight for Life the TCH, and placed in the Newborn Critical Care Unit. Over the next week, he would quit breathing four times. It was the beginning of a long row to hoe.

Garrett spent his first 2 ½ months of life in TCH. This would become a surrogate home for us over much of the next year. The apartment was just a place to change clothes and take a shower. One of us was with Garrett around the clock. Many sleepless nights would be spent and praying at his bedside, napping when we could. During the first few months, he underwent several small surgical procedures and nearly died several times. His color became a pale blue, and his extremities swelled because his little body could not properly rid itself of excess fluid. Breathing a mixture of Oxygen and Nitrogen, he was kept at less than room air because his tiny lungs could not handle the oxygen very well. He literally could drown in his own fluids. We met other wonderful families who were also waiting, and six received hearts while we waited and prayed. Though our call did not come, Jesus was still talking to us. He had brought Garrett back several times when some thought he would die.

When Garrett stabilized well enough to go “home” to the apartment with us, we would still have daily visits from a nurse. They would change his I.V. cassette, which he needed at all times, check all of his vital signs and give him a good ‘once over’. We also had to take him to TCH several times a week for a check up at the Cardiology Clinic. We carried a pager so they could reach us at all times, and we lived very reclusive so as not to expose Garrett to any germs flying around. We never even took an elevator, choosing to take the stairs where the air was better and less confined. Any infection could cause infection and kill him. In addition, the medicine Garrett was on made him very sick and lethargic. His little bones began to ache and the machine malfunctioned several times, sending us into a panic when it stopped, or when backpressure started sucking blood out of his body. Our nerves, bodies and spirits were tested daily.

While we waited and prayed, word reached out about our son. Before long, people from all over the world would be praying for Garrett. Folks from all walks of life and every Christian denomination would gather together spiritually because of this little baby boy. Garrett Fritz Ross was bringing people closer to Jesus. Our Lord was talking to me.

On October 8, 1999, we got a call at 5:30 in the morning. We had a heart! We prayed for the donor family and raced Garrett to the hospital. This was meant to be. It was exactly one year to the day that his granddaddy had died, and it was Garrett’s 4th month birthday. Something good had to come on that day. Unfortunately, we soon learned that the heart was too small for Garrett, and we were sent home, hurting like we have never hurt before. Garrett’s time was running out, and no compatible heart was in sight. Garrett’s heart was failing, and ours were breaking. I didn’t know it then, but God was trying to tell me to listen. He was in control.

By Christmas, Garrett was so sick that he could hardly form a smile. He had no energy, and his little body was wearing out. He was in his sixth month, which was the outside life expectancy given to him when he was born. He’d been through numerous hospital stays and surgeries, coming back from near fatal problems, and yet Garrett refused to quit. I had been gone from the job a lot, but still took a leave from work because I was afraid I might look back and regret not having spent more time with Garrett when I could. I didn’t go back for over a month.

On a late, cold winter night just before the birthday of our Lord, I held Garrett in my lap as I so often do when I get home from work. As I did, I bent over him and I prayed. While he gently ran his little hands over my face, I breathed in deeply, and closed my eyes. I was trying to memorize his sweet aroma and the touch of his tiny hands. I put every one of my senses to work so that if God called him home, I would never forget that feeling. Tears trickled down my face as I willed my love to my son. Even as I write this now, the memory of that night brings tears. I had never wanted anything so much in my life. Only a few hours earlier, Garrett had watched in awe as our little fake Christmas tree blinked with twinkling lights, which cast a glow onto our little Nativity set. As we prepared ourselves to welcome the miracle of Christmas, I prayed for yet another miracle.

By January of 2000, Garrett had survived longer than anyone had expected, but was not likely to live many more days. We were told he was a “record holder”, for living without a new heart, lingering longer than any other child with the same uncorrected condition. It was not a record we cherished. When a doctor told me there was no medical reason for Garrett to still be alive, I told him I knew why. It was the power of prayer, and that our Lord Jesus Christ was the final Physician. The doctor said he had to agree.

In early January, doctors performed two never-before-tried procedures in order to try and buy Garrett more time. Because no donor was in sight, and Garrett had been such a fighter, the medical staff at TCH refused to give up. We knew though, that discussions had taken place of removing him from the waiting list. He was now seen as “high risk” for a transplant. His time was almost gone.

We were faced now with possibly watching him slowly die over the next few weeks with no chance of survival. The surgeries were our only hope at the time, and we knew it. Jesus can perform miracles, we knew, and we prayed for Him to choose the method. It ‘could’ be through a surgeon’s knife, or the heart could just be healed. I longed to have the faith of the Biblical woman who only wanted to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment to be healed. I prayed for faith emulating that of Mary, the mother of our Lord, and Joseph her earthly husband. Surely they had been scared parents, but they chose to follow the will of our God. I needed to fully place my son into our Lord’s hands.

In the first procedure, a tiny coil, called a ‘stent’ was placed in a small vein called a PDA, connecting Garrett’s aorta to his pulmonary arteries. This vein is what the I.V. medicine had been keeping open, but the meds were taking a terrible toll on his body. The stent would permanently hold open this little communication line. The second step was an intrusive procedure where doctors opened Garrett’s chest and banded his pulmonary arteries to reduce the fluid pressures in his lungs. These surgeries were only theories before Garrett, but our backs were in a corner. We had to try something and we agreed to let them, knowing his chances of dying on the table were high.

One of the surgeries, the major one, came on the anniversary of my dad’s own heart surgery some years back. The surgeries were so successful, that now they are doing them on other waiting babies like Garrett, so they may wait in more comfort and with better chances. It was becoming clearer. Part of the plan as I see it, was for Garrett to help other kids. Jesus was still talking to me. We also noticed how Garrett’s vital signs following surgery were steady, until I sang “In The Garden” softly in his ear. At the sound of musical prayer, his levels increased amazingly.

January 27th will never be the same. At 7 ½ months old, Garrett got a heart! We received the long awaited call at 7:30 p.m., and immediately prayed for the donor family. We raced once again to the hospital, and prayed this would not be a false alarm. It wasn’t, and it was also my dad’s birthday. Jesus did not want us to celebrate dad’s death; he wanted us to celebrate dad’s life. The man, whom I’d always hoped would one day hold my child, now shared a name and a birthday of new life with my son. I was finally hearing my Lord. God knew how important dad had been in my life, and that I still needed him. He knew how deeply I loved and needed my son, and would have easily given my own life in place of his. God knew how I needed Him, most of all.

While we waited, alternately praying, pacing, making phone calls, drinking coffee and talking during the long 7-hour surgery, I wrote Garrett a lullaby. I’d sung to him when he was in his momma’s tummy, and he hit the ground loving the sound of a guitar. It often would settle him when nothing else could. The song I wrote for Garrett that night is called “The Littlest Cowboy Lullaby”. A part of the lyrics say, “puppies play in a little boy’s dreams”. A few weeks later, I learned that one of our dogs had puppies. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. Jesus was singing to me now.

I wondered how God could possibly top this. He had seen fit that many dates important in my dad’s life, corresponded with monumental dates in my young son’s life. He led me to a safe place to house my family, and saw to it that mom and the home place were cared for, while giving my sister a place to live. He let the whole family be with dad when he died, something that is quite a feat considering the size of my family. He used my wedding as an opportunity to bring the family together for dad. He used Garrett’s life to help save the lives of other kids, and He opened my heart to let me hear his beautiful voice. At times I was impatient and angry, but God was big enough to handle it. He knew, and I finally accepted, His perfect plan for this moment in time.

There had been so many other miraculous blessings over the past year or so, in which our Lord bestowed such wonderful gifts to us. Now, He topped them all by letting us go home……on the day after Easter! We‘d been told it would not be until June or July, but a sudden call came telling us we could go home, and commute on dry roads when needed.

Our Lord God gave my son new life, then let us start our new life at home on the anniversary of our new life as Christians, celebrating Christ’s resurrection. To make this even sweeter, Garrett received his heart in his 7th month. He was the 7th child to receive a heart while we waited, and there are 7 letters in “Garrett”. 777, God’s perfect number! On top of that, He gave Garrett a heart that bore His name. Garrett’s donor heart came from a beautiful little girl who’s named means “Godlike” or “All Powerful”.

Although Garrett has a long way to go before being “out of the woods”, he is now nearly 11 months old and a wonderful, happy baby boy. Even now I write this from The Childrens Hospital, because Garrett has been re-admitted for a small setback, but should be back home again soon playing with his puppies. Our little Warrior, our little King of Broken Hearts is going to be ok. It doesn’t mean we’ll never fear, or that he’ll never be sick, it just means we trust in our Lord.

Time and space do not allow for me to fully describe all of the events in this story. We always tried to maintain a positive outlook, making each day a victory. There were, however, some very challenging times such as the very many sleepless nights in vigil at a hospital bedside; the incredible fatigue and despair; staring at a pager and praying for it to go off, then having it go off several times with wrong numbers; the panic when his breathing stopped or he became unresponsive; hoping for what most parents dread…….a tantrum, to show us he still had fight left; handing our son over for surgery many times, not knowing if he would come back; sleeping in a chair next to his hospital bed so Garrett would never have to be alone; holding a crying child who wanted to eat, but would throw up anything fed to him; comforting a crying wife as she watched her baby suffer; wiping Garrett’s tears because he knew too much of pain, needles, drain tubes and machines…….but yet, he also knew love. I can’t begin tell you the love and anguish we feel for the donor family. Our prayers for them will never cease.

As father’s day approaches, I contemplate the importance of my dad’s life on my own, and how I pray that one day Garrett will love me as much as I love his grandpa. I think of how through Garrett’s illness, God let me spend more time with my son than most fathers ever will at this age. I reflect on how our Lord has given me a wonderful relationship with my father-in-law, who cannot replace my dad, but can be a friend to pray with, talk to, work with, learn from and love. I wonder about the little child I never knew, and how I feel like a part of her belongs to us and is now in Heaven, and how a part of her lives on in Garrett. Mostly, I think of how the most important Father of all has shown me His incredible love time and time again. I know how immense the love is I have for my only son, and how I fought to save him the only way I could. Then I think of how our God, whose love is perfect, let His only son die in order to save me. I am truly rewarded to be given such an opportunity to testify to the Majesty and Power of our Lord God.


J.D. Ross
June, 1999