Testimonies

One year ago today....by Jill Geselle

One year ago today... I was sitting in Children's Hospital looking at my little Hudson. He was 17 months old and he was hooked up to a ventilator and was in a medically induced coma. He had tubes, wires, and monitors everywhere. He was puffy, had a raging fever, and looked lifeless....so still.  I remember that day so well not only because it was scary, but also because of the amazing peace of God that decended on me that day. I want to take a moment to testify to the power, kindness, and faithfulness of the Mighty God we serve.

Last year on this day the kids and I were at my friend's parent's house....swimming in the lake. After awhile we came up to the patio to play. I looked over at Hudson just in time to see him lift a little terra cotta jar to his lips and (as I yelled, "no") take a drink. I turned to my friend and said, "What is IN that?" She said, "I don't know, but I think it might be citronella." Miracle #1: I saw him drink it and she knew what it was. This would end up being vital.

I didn't know at the time that liquid citronella is 98% kerosene, and that what had just happened was very bad. At the time I thought, "Oh, it must taste bad. I will give him a drink of milk and he will be ok." I wasn't worried. But suddenly the thought popped into my head, "Call poison control." This was Miracle #2. Like I said, I wasn't worried, but the fact that we called when we did could have very well been the difference between life and death.  So, my friend went inside and called. Meanwhile, Hudson was coughing a little, but otherwise seemed ok. She came back with poison control on the line and they said they did not have much info on citronella ingestion. But, since it could potentially cause airway swelling we should bring him to the ER or call 911.

So, my very pregnant friend and I loaded up 5 kids, 5 and under and headed to the closest hospital (which was less than 10 minutes away).The fact that we chose to drive was Miracle #3. Her parent's road was all dug up and I was parked at a neighbor's. The ambulance would have taken too long trying to find us.  At this point Hudson was coughing a bit more, but I still wasn't super worried. But somewhere on that ride to the hospital I began to realize that Hudson wasn't really breathing AND coughing. He was only coughing. And the coughs were getting more and more tight sounding. My heart was pounding as we drove him there....every stop light felt like an eternity. I couldn't see Hudson because he was backwards in a car seat, so I kept saying to Eliana in a very calm voice, "Eliana, honey, what color are Hudson's lips?" "Ummm, they are pink, Mommy." And at one point he stopped making noise, "Eliana, what is Hudson doing?" "He's throwing up mommy!" "What color?" "It's like spit, Mommy." I thought I might have to pull over and do CPR right there, but then he coughed again, and I drove faster.

We got to the hospital and by now I WAS worried. I left the other kids with my friend and ran into the hospital. They brought him into a room and I heard the young ER doctor say, "Call anesthesia!" This was Miracle #4. If he had not thought to say that when he did...I do not think Hudson would have done as well as he did. By now Hudson was getting sweaty and lethargic. We were not in the room 5 minutes and he had long periods of apnea (not breathing). I would pat his back and feet and say, "Hudson, Hudson, wake up! Breathe!" And he would take one gasping/coughing breath, and pass out against me. By now the reality of what was happening began to set in. But I was very very calm. I now understood that they were going to have to put a tube down his throat to help him breathe.  

Because I was a NICU nurse and being so calm they let me stay in the room. The young MD yelled, "Where is anesthesiology?! I can't wait any longer. We need to intubate NOW!" And with that they began to try to get the breathing tube in. I stood against the wall and watched as he turned gray....his O2 saturations dropping to 20. He tried once, twice....and could not get it in his swollen throat. I was praying and telling myself, "They are going to get it in. I have seen people do this with babies over and over. They are going to get it in. They are going to get it in." It was a declaration of FAITH at that point. Suddenly, at attempt #3, the anesthesiologist came into the room and with the help of a scope, got the tube in.  

The rest of it was a flurry of activity and we were transferred by ambulance, sirens blazing, to Children's Hospital in Minneapolis.  Hudson's doctor there was a man of amazing calm and kindness....who remembered me from the NICU, even though he had only met me once. He calmly told me that he could make no promises about his outcome. He explained that he had "chemical pneumonia" and that the kerosene from the oil had gone into his lungs and damaged them. We could expect high fevers and difficulty breathing, but there was also a high risk of kidney failure, bacterial pneumonia on top of the damage he already had, and many other things. I knew enough as a nurse to know that the prognosis was not good. That night Tony went home and googled "Citronella aspiration"...the only cases he found of it, the kids all died.  

So, I stood there by his bed....wires and tubes everywhere and all I could say was, "God, please....please give Him back to me." That was it. I didn't argue, I didn't beg. Somehow in that I knew He had heard me. In my heart I stood before Him with open hands and said, "I know I can't hold him. He is Yours. Only You have the power to give Him back to me. You have always been faithful to me. I will trust You no matter what." As word spread and people began praying all over the country and world I felt an amazing PEACE settle over me. This was Miracle #5 because, although not many knew, I had been struggling with extreme anxiety for over a year before this happened. On top of that I was a nurse and KNEW every bad thing that could happen. I had every reason to worry, fret, and be fearful. But all I felt was peace....a miraculous, amazing, heaven-sent peace. I am so grateful for everyone who prayed.

Hudson spent only a week in the hospital. He had fevers nearing 105 and was packed in ice to keep them down. He was very sick and did not do well when the breathing tube initially came out. But, he had no other complications. NONE. He didn't even go home on nebs which they assured us he would. He has not had asthma which they thought he would. Today he is a healthy, amazing, spirited little boy.

While I was in the hospital with Hudson day in and day out there was one song that I sang to him over and over again. I am writing the words below:

"He's Always Been Faithful", by Sara Groves

"Morning by morning I wake up to find
The power and comfort of God's hand in mine
Season by season I watch Him amazed
In awe of the goodness of His perfect ways
All I have need of His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me 

I can't remember a trial or a pain
He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can't remember one single regret
In serving God only and trusting His hand
All I have need of His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me 

This in my anthem, this is my song
The theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again
His loving compassion it knows no end
All I have need of His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me" 

About a month after Hudson got out of the hospital Tony was at church worshipping in the kids' church. He said he suddenly felt like God put his arm around him and said, "I gave you back your son. He was going to die and I gave him back to you."

This brings tears of awe and thankfulness to my eyes. Because I know it to be true. Yes, the doctors and nurses were amazing. But it was GOD, the Great Physician, who healed our Hudson Mulu. And I want to testify to everyone today that I serve a Mighty God. He is always faithful. He is always good. And He has been kinder to me than I deserve. Trust Him today with the hard things and the good things. He has come to give us life, and life more abundantly. Amen.