A Lotta Miracle

“The probability of a certain set of circumstances coming together in a meaningful (or tragic) way is so low that it simply cannot be considered mere coincidence. ” 

V.C. King

 

***

 

"What a coincidence that you were here on the very night they came looking for a support group!" the kind volunteer at the front desk of the Ronald McDonald House said to me as I left our monthly meeting.

 

I smiled and shook my head, "No, that was not a coincidence. That was a miracle!"

 

Our meeting was changed from it's normally-scheduled day for a special speaker, so we didn't know any of the staff that evening. Lotta and Andre were delivering a very special heart baby the next day at Stanford and decided to see if there was any support to be offered. They randomly ended up at the Ronald McDonald House and when they asked if there was a support group for families with heart children, the person at the front desk said no. A different volunteer overheard the conversation and said, "I think there's a support group for heart families meeting right now actually, let me check my book." They found the name Heather Wigginton and marched those two dear souls right back to meet me.

 

All these circumstances a coincidence? Please. 

 

And I am more sure of that one experience's heavenly origins now as I have ever been.

 

 

***

 

From the moment Niqelle was born I was smitten. Her features were perfectly placed on her face and her hair curled in just the right spot. Her skin was soft and flawless and her sweet heart was beautifully beating through her chest, an extremely rare condition I learned was called ectopia cordis. As I sat with her for the first time, just a day after she graced the world with her presence, I was in awe of her spirit--strong and vibrant and yet so full of peace.

 

And her mother, that incredible Lotta I had only just met; there was love and hope and joy in her eyes that I knew Nicqelle had welcomed. To see Lotta caress her daughter's body in a tiny NICU bed, drill the nurses for answers about administered medication and hold that infant skin-to-skin with 20 pillows and blankets protecting her wires was refreshingly real and normal to me. We had babies the same way, me and Lotta. We were heart moms and we understood each other. I loved them so much, both of them. I loved them more than I thought was possible really.

 

Before I knew it hospital visits and text message updates were just part of my routine. I sat with Lotta and Andre while Nicqelle was in surgery, and met with her surgeon in the family conference. I made meals and brought snacks (almost always unhealthy compared to the veggie shakes they drank) and they agreed that junk food is sometimes healing! I visited the hospital so often that those nurses who didn't know me from my stay with Evie, recognized me from my visits to Nicqelle. Talmage prayed for Nicqelle daily and knew she had a "mended little heart like Evie." 

 

Nicqelle's surgery was not as smooth as they had hoped, and every day was full of highs and lows. Her incredible parents lived at the hospital, only leaving when Lotta needed to pump the milk she so-hoped her daughter would drink. Day in and day out they stayed strong and positive. And I was inspired.

 

***    

 



"Why does it look like the heart is on the outside of the body?" I asked the PA as she performed my first ultrasound at 8 weeks pregnant.

"I'm not going to lie to you," she said, obviously startled by the finding and by my ability to see it, "this does not look normal. I have never seen anything like it."

"I have." I said, shaking my head. "It's called ectopia cordis. I've been visiting a baby in the hospital for the past month with this exact same condition."

 

***

 



At first I was in denial. Ectopia cordis affects 5 in 1 million babies and I just couldn't believe that it was hitting me twice--first with Nicqelle and then with the baby I was carrying. I re-read the radiologist report at least 100 times and cried. I cried because I loved Nicqelle and hurt that she hurt. I cried because I loved Andre and Lotta and felt, even more acutely, what they felt. And I cried because I had been walking the road of ectopia cordis with this beautiful family for weeks--and I knew it was an emotionally disastrous journey. Yes, I cried for myself and for the baby I was carrying.

I couldn't bring myself to visit the hospital for the next few days. It was too fresh, and it wasn't time to share the news. And then my boys got sick and I was banned from entering the hospital for fear of spreading germs to little ones. I watched from afar the ins and outs of their hospital stay for nearly a week. And for the first time I was not just walking this path with them, I was seeing my future life unfold.

***

 

It was a Friday afternoon when I had the strongest feeling I should tell Lotta about my new baby. And I did. She, of course, told me I could have told her earlier, but the timing just felt perfect. She told me she'd be there for me every minute and I knew she would. I was scared, I was sad, but I was definitely not alone.

 

***

 

I missed a call from Lotta right after my Monday doctor's appointment. I was not ready to tell anyone about my miscarriage, and thought I would call her back later. But when I listened to the voicemail message she had left my heart nearly stopped.

 

Nicqelle was not doing well, and they were pretty sure she would be going to heaven in the next few days. I headed right over to the hospital and cried with Lotta. I told her everything and we cried together--for me and for her. Although completely different, we were both experiencing a loss and they were both ectopia cordis-related. On the same day.  

 

My D and C was on Tuesday, the same day that sweet baby Nicqelle was baptized into their church. While I was still loopy, James delivered a beautiful white dress, borrowed from a friend, for the ceremony. I saw the pictures later and thought she looked just like an angel.

 

And on Wednesday I was with them when Nicqelle peacefully took her last breath in the arms of her Mommy and gained her angel wings.

 

In just three days, my life as I have known it for the last two months has come to a screeching halt. I feel a little lost and so sad.

 

***

 

I think I'll spend my whole lifetime trying to put the Lotta/me/ectopia cordis puzzle together. What purpose did we have in each other's lives? Why did I learn I was carrying a baby with ectopia cordis, only to miscarry before birth? I could've easily miscarried without ever knowing the reason. What were Lotta and I supposed to learn from each other and have I done my part?

 

One thing is for sure:

 

“The probability of a certain set of circumstances coming together in a meaningful (or tragic) way is so low that it simply cannot be considered mere coincidence. ”

V.C. King

 

No, none of this was a coincidence. It was a miracle.