In recent weeks, I’ve shared a few anecdotes about our newly adopted baby. She’s known as ‘Squish’ here at the Daily Dad until her adoption is finalised.

I am now writing a weekly column as my wife Angie and I learn the ins and outs of parenting a newborn, and as we navigate the joys and challenges of adoption.

Here is this week’s edition of ‘The Adventures of Squish’.

We Don’t See Miracles Every Day

I am reluctant to invoke miracles unless I truly witness one, lest I make the same mistake as the proverbial “boy who cried wolf”.

Occasionally, I have seen God perform miracles — most notably when my wife Angie was suddenly and supernaturally healed from a long-term stomach condition. (You can read about it here).

But to be clear, such things are rare for us — which makes Squish’s experience over the weekend that much more remarkable.

Let me tell you the story, so you can decide for yourself.

A Trip to the Doctor

Mid-last week, Squish began vomiting after feeds. I don’t mean spitting up, which is something all babies do. I mean emptying the entire contents of her stomach — all she had been fed at the last sitting.

Squish had no indications of an infection or a sickness. Apart from the vomiting, she was completely herself.

The vomiting went on for several days before my wife decided to take her to the paediatrician.

On the doctor’s advice, we switched formulas, started giving Squish smaller portions of milk at closer intervals, and held her upright for longer after feeding, among other practical measures.

We also started praying.

The doc had said that if things didn’t improve by the start of the weekend, we might want to take her to the hospital for an ultrasound.

Surgery for Our One-Month-Old?

Friday passed and then Saturday, and still Squish was vomiting regularly.

On Sunday morning, we were ready to go to church when Squish threw up again, bigly. We decided enough was enough. To the hospital we went.

At the consultation, the medical staff said all of Squish’s symptoms were pointing to pyloric stenosis — a thickened muscle stopping her stomach from emptying.

If they were right, it meant surgery, including general anaesthetic. On our precious one-month-old!

A positive diagnosis first required an ultrasound.

As you can imagine, we started praying even harder than we were before. It was during our walk to the ultrasound clinic that we prayed the hardest.

In less than an hour, the results were back, and the doctors came to tell us the news.

“The ultrasound came back clear,” they said, to our immense relief and gratitude.

They diagnosed Squish with run-of-the-mill gastro-oesophageal reflux, to be treated with the same methods we had already been using.

A Brand New Squish

If you’ve followed the story so far, you may be wondering where the miracle was. Am I simply calling a favourable diagnosis a miracle?

I’m not.

When we got home from the hospital, we fed Squish. She held all of her food down. The same happened a few hours later, and a few hours after that.

Now, Squish is eating more than ever. Essentially, she is having as much milk as she wants, whenever she wants it.

And in all the days since we visited the hospital, the most Squish has done is spit up a little, like any infant — and like she had been doing in the weeks previous.

Think it through.

Normally, if you get a doctor’s diagnosis for something — in this case, gastro-oesophageal reflux — there are symptoms to treat, adjustments to make, remedies to give.

But from the second we left the hospital, there have been no symptoms of Squish’s alleged condition, and no adjustments or remedies needed.

We believe God heard our prayers on our walk to that ultrasound room.

We believe our one-month-old was miraculously healed.

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Image via Unsplash.