Monica Rybitski Bundle of Renee Joy I cannot sleep because I am so ecstatic and the anticipation is killing me. It is about six hours until I can get ready and leave with my parents to the hospital. My sister and her husband just had their first child named Renee Joy around 11:30 PM on August 5, 2009, and it is now 2:00 the following morning. I hear my dad s snores in the next room and the ticking of the clock. I turn over on my side trying to find a comfortable position on the floor of my sister s Florida home. Finally, somehow, I drift off to sleep. I open my eyes excitedly when I hear my parents voices chattering with enthusiasm. I jump out of my old green sleeping bag, say hello to my parents, and run to the bathroom to get ready for the big day. When I am finished, I come out into the living room and realize my mom and dad are upset. Immediately sensing something is wrong I say, What s going on? Is everything ok? My dad replies by saying, Renee stopped breathing twice during the night. My heart sinks and a lump forms as I process what he has just said. I respond, What?! Is she ok?! She is in the NICU, and we aren t sure how she is doing right now. Ami and Jon will call us with an update in a few minutes. In the meantime, we will still get ready to go, and head on over to the hospital soon. When we get in the car, I pray silently in the backseat. We get a call from Jon, and he tells us that Renee has a 50/50 chance of survival. I feel like someone has just punched me in the stomach. I notice my mom and dad trying to keep their composure with a few tears escaping down their cheeks, but I am not as strong. I can t hold it in. Hot salty tears drip down my face. I
Rybitski 2 try to distract myself by looking out the car window and watch the other cars go by. I think to myself: This cannot be happening. This happens to other families. Not mine. We pray both silently and out loud during the fifteen minute car ride. We arrive at the hospital, and go up to my sister s room. When we walk in, I notice she has a pile of crumpled up tissues and her eyes are red from crying. It rips my heart apart to see her like this, and it makes me want to cry a fresh batch of tears for her sadness. I don t though because that is not going to help her feel any better; instead, I hug her. After also hugging Ami, my mom says, Any new updates? Jon replies, Not yet, but you all can go see Renee in a few minutes. She is beautiful! Her eyes are a gorgeous blue color! She has Ami s profile and my fingers. In his voice, I can hear his love, excitement, and pride for his new daughter, but also fear and great concern. Because she is so sick, we will not be able to hold her. My parents and I walk through a heavy brown door leading to the NICU nursery. Before we can see Renee, we wash our hands and put blue hospital gowns on over our clothes. As we go into the nursery, bittersweet emotions arise, and I fear the unknown. The three of us huddle around the precious new baby girl with fuzzy dark brown hair. I look to my parents and the nurse and say, Can I touch her hand? The nurse nods and I gently touch Renee s soft baby skin. Worry overwhelms me for her young life. When we go back to Ami s hospital room, Renee s doctor comes in and says, Renee s lungs have some kind of infection. We have her on 100% oxygen. We aren t sure what is causing her to be sick like this. Unfortunately, her condition is worsening. We will have to do more tests.
Rybitski 3 A few hours later, the doctors say it would be best if they airlift little Renee from Melbourne, Florida to Orlando. The Winnie Palmer Hospital for Women and Babies is tremendous, and they believe that she might have a better chance of recovery. The nurses and airlift crew encourage us to take pictures of Renee and say goodbyes. Later, we learn that they emphasized the need to take pictures because she was doing so badly, and they did not think she would make it to the other hospital. Because my sister is still recovering that day, Jon goes to Orlando alone and we stay with Ami. While sitting in her hospital room, a hospital photographer comes in completely unaware of the situation, and says to my sister, Would you like me to take some pictures of you and your new baby? Ami handles the painful question gracefully, No, thank you. We appreciate it though. The photographer quickly looks around the pale white room and realizes that something is wrong. As she walks back towards the door, she replies with sympathy, Oh, I am so sorry to bother you all. We have no idea what will happen, and we do the only thing we can do, which is pray. That special day was supposed to be filled with happiness and pictures; instead, it turns out to be a day of sadness and tears. The next morning, Ami is released and we head out for the hour and a half car ride to Orlando. Jon calls to say Renee is doing a little bit better. We arrive at the creatively sphereshaped hospital. As we walk through the doors that have a waterfall fountain encasing the entrance, I become hurtfully aware of young parents carrying their sweet healthy babies outside
Rybitski 4 to take home. Bitterly I think to myself: That should be Ami and Jon with Renee. Because I am not eighteen, I cannot even see Renee, so I spend my time sitting in the waiting room. Dad, do you think you would be allowed to take some videos and pictures of Renee? I question hopefully. He replies, I ll ask one of the nurses, but I don t see why that would be a problem. My heart breaks for the millionth time when I see her in a video that my dad takes. She is hooked up with many more wires than what she had had at the hospital in Melbourne. She has a PICC line, feeding tube, breathing tube, and other wires. Her tiny foot has an IV stuck in it. She is not even 48 hours old yet, and she has already been through so much. The hours go by slowly and I hate that I am stuck out in this room feeling almost completely helpless. I look around the colorfully painted room to the other distressed people. There are young children sitting at a small wobbly table coloring with broken crayons. I assume they are the siblings of another sick baby. I also see older people and middle-aged adults. I think about what their stories might be. All of these people are most likely going through the same thing my family is, and some are going through worse things than us. Yesterday, the doctors told us they can t do anything else for Ellie. We re going to take her home today, so we can enjoy her outside of the hospital for a few days before a new grandmother tells me out in the waiting room. She didn t have to finish the sentence. My heart aches for her instantly. I reply helplessly with a loss for words, I am so sorry. I m praying for you.
Rybitski 5 I know I shouldn t, but I question God a little: Why is this happening? How can you do this to anyone? Then, I stop myself and remind myself that God watches out for His children, and He has a reason for everything no matter what the result might be. I continue to reflect and pray: It definitely could be worse for my family right now. Little Ellie s family has less hope than what we do right now. I know you will do what is best, Lord. Please give us strength and help us. Some of His provision for Ami and Jon is proven when He opens the door for her to stay at the Ronald McDonald House. This is a much needed blessing for them since the hour and a half commute would add extra stress. We see God s work isn t finished there. Renee continues to improve, and the doctors realize she has a Group B Strep infection (GBS). It is treatable, but if it spreads to her brain or spine, she could be left with major disabilities. My family, our extended family, friends, and people we don t even know continue praying for Renee s health. We pray that God s will be done, and hope that He heals her. Thankfully, He answers with the best possible result: Renee s recovery progresses even faster than what we had hoped. She is only in the hospital for about two and a half weeks! Although the doctors were not sure how long Renee would be in the hospital, they expected her to be there much longer than that. The GBS never spreads to her brain or spine, and miraculously she leaves like any other normal healthy baby. You can t get me! I teasingly say to eighteen month old Renee as I run and hide behind a couch in another room. She giggles and I hear the patter of her little feet trying to catch up and find me. She comes into the living room and looks around for my hiding spot. Then, I see her sparkling blue eyes look straight into mine. I remain crouched down and she runs toward me with a toothy grin.
Rybitski 6 You found me! I congratulate her proudly. Still smiling, Renee holds out her arms to me. I pick her up and kiss her on the cheek. Suddenly, memories of my conversation with little Ellie s grandmother flashes through my mind, and I hug Renee just a little bit tighter.