The morning of the surgery, Hertha whispered in Matt's tiny ear "Fight hard, little one." And, as if he understood, when a nurse tried to put an IV in his arm, he put up such a fight that it took three people to hold him down. "This is the kind of baby who survives!" one of the doctors said. Let him be right, Heftha prayed. Hours later when the surgeon reported that the surgery was a success, Hertha wept, "Thank you, Lord." Now Matt could grow up like any other boy. After months of living in fear, Hertha began imagin ing Matt's first day of school, him playing ball with his friends-like a normal child. Her days were filled with joy as Matt learned his first words, grinning from ear to ear as he chirped, "Hi, Mommy! Hi, Daddy!" Then one day when Matt was 1 1/2, Hertha noticed he didn't have an appetite at breakfast. "Aren't you hungry today, baby?" she asked. It's no big deal, she told herself. It's probably just a little bug. But Matt's appetite didn't return. And what little he did eat, he usually threw up. "Something's not right," Hertha told his pediatrician. But when he examined Matt, he didn't find anything wrong. Hertha knew better. Once so full of life, Matt grew listless, content to lie in her arms for hours. Other times, he'd lie in his crib, screaming and slapping his head with his tiny hand, as if in agony. Terrified, Hertha saw another doctor and another- and another. But no one knew what to do. "We've done everything we can," they said hopelessly.
"I can't accept that," Hertha said in tears. That would mean letting go of Matt, and that was the one thing she could never, ever do. But what could she do? One day when a friend came for a visit, Hertha broke down. "I'm so scared," she sobbed. "I heard about a doctor on TV" her friend said, scrib bling a name on a piece of paper. Maybe he can help. "You're my last hope, Hertha thought as she dialed neurologist Fred Epstein, M.D., at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York City. "There's something terribly wrong with my baby," Hertha choked."Bring him in," the nurse said. 'You came to the right place," a woman in the waiting room told Hertha later. "People from all over come to Dr. Epstein. He's re- nowned for his compassion-and his miracle surgeries." Hertha's heart swelled with hope. Please let him have a miracle for Matt, she prayed. "Matt's very sick," Dr Epstein told Hertha after examining him. "His cerebellum is putting pressure on his brain stem. If we don't operate soon, he could be paralyzed or die. " Cold fear gripped Hertha as he spoke. "We're going to have to remove some brain tissue," he continued somberly "But I wouldn't recommend operating if I weren't confident it was the right thing to do."
" We don't have very good insurance," Hertha told him sheepishly. And my husband and I don't have a lot of money..." "Don't worry" Dr Epstein said. "We'll accept whatever your insurance company pays. All you need to worry about is your son. Tears flooded Hertha's eyes. If anyone can help Matt, this man can, she told herself. Days later, when she carried Matt to the OR, she managed a weak smile. "Give Mommy five, Matt!" she said. Only later, when she joined family, friends and church members in the waiting room, did the tears come. Will I ever see my baby alive again? she agonized. Yet deep down, she had faith in God and in the doctor He had sent her. And hours later, when Dr. Epstein emerged from the OR, Hertha knew her prayers were answered the moment she saw his face. "Matt needed this surgery more badly than we realized," Dr. Epstein said. A ball of tissue the size of a cherry had been crushing his brain stem. "He wouldn't have lasted much longer," he said. "But he came through like a real fighter. I think he's going to be fine." The realization that her baby had been as sick as she'd feared sent a chill down Hertha's spine. "Thank you, doctor!" she sobbed as tears flowed down her cheeks. Today, one year later, Matt is a happy, healthy toddler. He loves dancing along with Barney and squeals with delight as he makes silly faces in the mirror. "More, Mommy!" he cries at meals these days. And his mother couldn't be more delighted. "Watching Matt grow- knowing the happiness that lies ahead for him makes every day feel like a gift," Hertha smiles. "I'll always be grateful to Dr. Epstein for giving Matt a second chance at life." -Peg Verone