At a little over two months old now, Cassian Lindon responds with his tongue-rolling smile, if you talk to him. He coos like a dove that I sometimes wonder what he is thinking or trying to communicate. Whatever it is, I just love it when he coos. He also constantly moves his arms and his legs. Most times, he keeps his fists clenched as if he’s ready to fight the evils in this world. Just like other babies his age, he loves to be cuddled and rocked and sung to.
But it has not been an easy ride for Cassian.
Two days after he was born on July 15, 2019, Cassian had an accident in a Houston hospital that resulted in a skull fracture. My world literally stopped from turning when I was told about it. It was a moment where I had to remind myself of how precious and important life is. But it can also be very fragile.
The news about the accident came unexpectedly because the day before the accident, we were informed by our daughter that Cassian would be released the following day.
I heard about the accident as I was about to park, with my wife sitting beside me, in one of Las Vegas’ thoroughfares. My daughter called to inform my wife what happened. I remained quiet as I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. Suddenly, my wife raised her voice with abject surprise and concern, as she struggled to understand what had happened to Cassian. Then, I heard my daughter sobbing to the point of being hysterical.
I knew something really bad had happened. I sat silently with some apprehension. I remember asking my wife in a loud voice: Is the baby going to be okay? I think my wife sensed that I was about to play the blame game and she told me not to add to the stress that our daughter was already in. After the phone call, I was in a fragile emotional state.
Truthfully, I cannot fathom a two-day old baby with a skull fracture surviving even if I’ve read that babies are stronger than an ox on a pound for pound basis. So many things were just going on in my mind.
Instead of going home where Cassian’s two older brothers were eagerly waiting for him, he was rushed to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) in Houston’s Texas Children Hospital that specializes in the care of newborn infants.
Assured that Cassian was confined in a hospital considered one of the nation’s best, my fear and apprehension gave way to hope that Cassian would be okay
I knew that Cassian would be in good hands in that hospital. But there are times in one’s life that we turn to God for a miracle. This was one of those moments. The miracle I was hoping for was for Cassian to overcome his ordeal with no surgery and no further complications.
There are two ways that God can accomplish healing in this world. The first is through science which is best exemplified by modern medicine. The second is through supernatural acts best understood through the power of prayers.
For any miracle to happen, I needed to spill the beans, so to speak. I could not keep the family secret from certain people any longer. So I immediately called a friend in New York and a cousin in Seattle about what happened to Cassian and asked for their prayers, hoping that their prayers would lead to a miracle.
For four agonizing days while Cassian was under the care of various specialists, Cassian’s parents continued to share with us a steady stream of updates. With each update, there was a feeling in the family that Cassian was on his way to full recovery. It appeared that science and the supernatural worked it out resulting in a miracle. Cassian can now go home.
I finally met Cassian when he was nearly a month old. The first time I carried him and pressed him against my chest, he brought joy merely through the fact that he is alive and well.
There is something mysterious, almost divine, in seeing Cassian recover from the accident. Given the ordeal that he went through as a two-day old baby, his every coo and tongue-rolling smile have an added meaning that perhaps only his parents, his brothers, and his grandparents can fully understand and appreciate and be thankful for.