I took the call at work today.
See, I THOUGHT it was a call from Cook Childrens anyway… I conveniently left my school-issued iPad there when we had our MRI appointment last Friday. That’s right.
So I took the call in class, my twelve three-to-five-year-old children waiting (not so) patiently and (not so) quietly as my aide struggled to give them their lunches without my help, and I was startled to hear that the person on the other end of the line was ready to give me MRI test results for Hayes Andrews.
Let’s pause for a moment and think about that job. And I thought mine was hard.
He went on to let me know that the optic nerve looked good – no significant underdevelopment at all. In fact, he kept going on about it so much I made him stop and I asked, “So…. he does have optic nerve hypoplasia, right?” He does. But the optic nerve ISN’T super small. Which is good news.
My baby can see.
He did report on another finding, however. Hayes’ corpus callosum appears to be smaller than normal. In my “OHMYGOSHHEPROBABLYWON’TBEBLIND” euphoria, I didn’t stop and ask for the exact comparison between Hayes’ corpus callosum and the average 5 month old baby’s. But I don’t regret it. It was a good call, a good moment, an answered prayer. Correction: answered prayers. Because I know Hayes Andrews has been lifted up by countless people over the last few weeks and our family is incredibly grateful and humbled.
But anyway. If you haven’t tabbed over and Googled ‘corpus callosum’ yet, here’s what you’re missing.
The corpus callosum is a big band of fibers connecting the right and left hemispheres of the brain. Essentially, they help the two halves ‘talk’ to each other. The two halves being able to communicate like this is vital for every action the body needs – from basic movement to critical thinking skills. Disorders of the corpus callosum can range from complete agenesis (absence) to partial development to abnormal development. These disorders can affect motor skills, critical thinking skills, social adeptness and other things.
I’m praising God today because I feel like we’ve been blessed. I told my mom while we were at the appointment for Hayes’ MRI that I had a peace about Hayes, and I meant it. The peace doesn’t mean I’m not taking this seriously, it doesn’t mean that I don’t acknowledge that what we’re dealing with is a ‘big deal’. I’ve just realized that nothing a doctor tells me can utterly devastate me because NO ONE knows my son more than my Lord. Humans can’t even write all there is to know about optic nerve hypoplasia. I’m guessing now that not one doctor on this Earth could tell me precisely what caused my son’s optic nerve and corpus callosum to develop in the ways they did. But God can. Not one doctor can tell me where my son will be in six months. But my God can.
There isn’t a human on this planet who can look at a picture of my son’s brain (amazing though it is that we can acquire one) and tell me where he will be at ten years old or what he will have accomplished. But my God can.
Hayes Brandon was designed by the Creator with a purpose and he was delicately, intricately, beautifully and wonderfully made by a loving Father. No one, despite their degrees or accolades or accomplishments, will be able to tell me beyond a shadow of a doubt, anything about his future. No one can rule out what he may or may not be.
My God is a Healer and maybe he won’t heal Hayes, but he’s healing me.
This blog will not become a site dedicated to optic nerve hypoplasia. It won’t become a site about the intricacies of the corpus callosum. Because my life isn’t just about that, and neither is Hayes’. Hayes is more than the way his brain developed. Frankly, it would be exhausting and selfish to let the magnitude of this condition overwhelm me daily. It’s not my job to worry today about whether or not Hayes will be able to hit a ball off a tee or drive a girl to the Prom. Today I’m thinking about whether or not it’s been four hours since he last ate, if his feet are cold, if Knox got enough to eat at dinner and whether or not Koby felt like I appreciated all he did for me today. So if my next post is a petty one about, say, the evils of cell phone carrier companies, you’ll know that I’m not neglecting or ignoring the fact that my son has a brain disorder. I’m just still a human being.