I remember the day Izzy was born like it was yesterday. I got the call super early in the morning that Carrie had been admitted and Izzy was on her way. I got up and headed to get Starbucks for the daddy-to-be and then headed to the hospital. Carrie and I were roommates when she got pregnant, so the journey to Izzy’s birth had been a deep and meaningful season for our friendship. I watched the world spiral around her as she became a wife and a mother in a matter of months. I remember holding her hand in that hospital room just bursting with pride over the woman my dear friend had become and the ways the Lord had worked in her heart. I wasn’t there when Izzy was born - I was new to my job and felt like I needed to go to work, but I remember returning to the hospital that evening to meet her. When I walked into the room, she was in the arms of her Uncle Fred. I wanted so badly to steal a peek at her, but I also knew I wanted a moment - just us - to fully take her in. I waited with eager anticipation, and she claimed my heart the moment that tiny little hand grabbed my finger. I remember crying, and praying, and singing a little lullaby. Within seconds, I became Izzy’s Aunt Shell.
When Izzy was only 2 months old, she got very sick. She was diagnosed with Biliary Atresia and the situation was incredibly serious. She spent the next several months in and out of the hospital, and ultimately it became clear that Iz would need a liver transplant (and soon) to survive. I spent a great deal of timing visiting Iz at UCLA - she was growing increasingly yellow and every time I saw her it seemed she had another tube. We knew her condition was grave and there was a very real possibility we would be saying goodbye. One particular Thursday I remember being overwhelmed by this feeling that I had to go see her. I had to say goodbye. I believe the Lord in His graciousness was preparing me for what could come. I spent several hours crying and praying by her little hospital crib. I held that same squishy little hand but was vastly aware that the Izzy I knew was only kind of there. Between the sedation to keep her comfortable and the poison taking over her body, she really wasn’t the same. On Saturday I went to a party at Matt and Shannon’s. I sat on the couch with Shan and sobbed - I remember asking her how to be a friend, how to love well, how to be supportive and strong when my best friend’s daughter dies. I remember looking at Shannon and saying “She is going to die Shan. She is going to die.” Shannon responded, “I know.” We held each other and I truly didn’t know how we would ever move on.
Only hours later, the phone rang - it was Carrie - Izzy got a liver. I went to pick up Matt and Shannon and we headed to the hospital to be with Carrie and Joe while Izzy was in surgery. We sat in that waiting room all night praying over Izzy Mae - hoping the Lord would give us a miracle - begging Him to let us keep her. In His glorious and infinite mercy, He gave Izzy another chance at life. The transplant was successful and when we saw her only hours after the surgery was complete, she already looked so much better. It was the beginning of a long road towards healing, with lots of labs and medications and several more weeks in the hospital. However, it was hope like I had never experienced it before…our Izzy was alive.
As I played with Izzy on Saturday I just couldn’t help but reflect on how grateful I am to have her around. She fills me with joy and makes me smile deep in my soul. She is a gift and such evidence that the Lord is at work in our lives. He is near and present and involved. I am forever grateful for my Izzy girl and I pray I never forget what the Lord gave us in her. I really am forever blessed to be her Aunt Shell.
Another day I’ll write a post about Rory - he is pretty darn great too!
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