Vera and her amazing parents.

You can find meaning anywhere, in any life, if you choose to never give up. That’s the main lesson for me this morning. Read on to know why...

This lesson is bundled up for me in the life of Vera and her amazing parents who never gave up. 

Senior Writer Wong Kim Hoh wrote the story simply entitled “Her daughter’s every birthday is a triumph” and I read it with a clearer, sharper sense of what life ultimately means in the larger scheme of things.

Vera is 10 years old today, but when she was born, it was not a day of celebration, but one of confounding silence.

Vera’s mother, Ms Tham Yin May, recalled: “Giving birth is supposed to be a happy time but we were talking about death. It became the worst time of my life.”

Why death? Because doctors confirmed that baby Vera had an error in cell division on Chromosome 18. In layman's langauge, she had three copies of Chromosome 18 instead of the usual two.

In other words, Vera was born with Trisomy 18 and that additional division made all the difference medically and physically for her. It also changed the fate of her family.

FYI, “a Trisomy 18 error occurs in one out of every 2,500 pregnancies...and only 50 per cent of such babies carried to term will be born alive.” The risk of a stillborn birth is relatively high for such a condition.

Although Vera beat the odds, she was however born with “a lateral cleft palate and defects of the brain, heart, stomach, airway, spine, ears, fingers and feet.”

Doctors also told them the grim road map ahead caring for Vera. They listed 150 complications associated with Vera’s condition and most babies will not live beyond two years old.

Ms Tham recalled that she asked “what is the best case scenario was” and the reply? “They told us to take her home and enjoy our time with her."

Presently, Vera “wears pink-frame glasses and has a shock of black hair. She cannot talk, walk or swallow, and has to be fed through an opening in her stomach. She cannot see, hear or breathe well either. She can only move her left hand, often reaching out for a reassuring touch from her mother.”

Taking care of Vera is an “arduous and perilous” journey for Ms Tham and her husband.

Ms Tham said that they “almost lost her to a debilitating lung infection but she clawed her way back.”

And two years ago, the “developmental progress Vera made - including moving her legs vigorously and babbling - was lost...when she caught a respiratory syncytial infection that compromises the immune system and leads to breathing difficulties.”

Yet, Ms Tham and her husband never gave up.

Notwithstanding the average of “one long period of hospitalisation”, the breathing issues, the physical handicap, the serious developmental issues, the feeding tube, Ms Tham (who has a blog at http://mylittlevera.blogspot.sg) wrote these inspiring thoughts: -

“(Vera) was lots of joy. She would show that she knew we were trying to connect with her. I’ll never stop communicating with her like a normal child even if she doesn’t understand me. I’m her mummy even if she doesn’t know I’m her mummy. Ours is a bond beyond words.”

Lesson? Three.

My first lesson is how love can make the difference. Contrary to the saying that love is blind, when love is put to the test, it is anything but blind.

In fact, love has a vision that sees beyond the here-and-now to the triumphant and purposeful journey of all trials.

Where normal sight sees only defeat, love sees overcoming. Where normal sight sees only darkness, love sees light, a lone penetrating beam. And where normal sight sees only despondency, the death of hope, love sees otherwise. It sees life, the rise of hope.

Before her marriage, Ms Tham had “a great love for music, one which captured her to enter, and win, many singing and songwriting competitions.”

Journalist Wong wrote that “caring for Vera has taken Ms Tham back to music.” She has written a few songs for Vera.

She said: “I believe Vera hung on for a purpose. Hopefully, these songs about her journey will inspire others. I want to be her voice. I want people to know that children like Vera love and deserve love too.”

Ms Tham is giving most of the proceeds from the songs she has written to the Rare Disorder Society of Singapore, where she met other inspiring families with special children.

My second lesson is in the name.

Ms Tham chose the name Vera because “Vera comes from the (Latin) word “verus” which means true.” And she said that Vera has shown her what is true in life.

I too always wonder the exact same thing: “What is true in life?”

When the truth about Vera’s condition sunk in, Ms Tham had to “grapple with the shock”. She said: “I was breaking down and crying a lot. My husband said: “There will be time to cry when she’s gone.””

She said that her husband’s words “jolted her” and thereafter, they decided to “take it one day at a time and get her to the one-year mark.”

Alas, most times, the truth in life is standing before us and we often miss it.

There is in fact a saying that “men occasionally stumble upon the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.”

For me, there is no greater truth in life than to live our present to the fullest and make everyday counts. My wish to myself and others has always been this: “May we all live everyday of our life.”

This morning, I have learned that Vera’s journey was a long and hard one and her parents’ undying love kept every step they took alive with unwavering hope and meaning.

Recently, they celebrated Vera’s 10th birthday, and Ms Tham said: “She has surpassed all expectations. Every year now is a bonus; we cherish every moment with her.”

Now, my friends, that's what is true in life, that is, a life that not only never give up, but one that loves so unconditionally, so courageously and so compellingly.

My last lesson is shepherd-led by the words of Ms Tham, which moved me deeply: -

“I’ve realised life happens in opposites. The worst diagnosis can be the best outcome. In her weakness, Vera has shown so much strength. In her silence, she speaks volumes of her love. She has only one arm that’s active, but she uses it daily to hug us. With each bonus day of her life, she reminds me to live purposefully.”

Personally, I just can't add anything to that without first asking myself, "What is my problem? What is my complaint?" 

In my weakness, what do I look for? Do I see strength rising even more to meet it? In times of silent self-doubt, what preoccupies me? Do I count my blessings or mourn over my inadequacy or lack? And with two working arms, both equally active, do I use them to build up, touch lives, encourage souls, make a difference, or do I use them to tear myself and others down? 

Alas, do I treasure each day of my life as a bonus and allow it to inspire others to live purposefully? What then do I represent to myself and others, my loved ones, my friends? What story have I written to live each day with purpose? 

And if Vera and her parents and all those around her who love ceaselessly are grateful for each day of life given to them, what excuses do I have to not live mine in that same uncompromising and empowering way? 

Thanks Vera, I may not know you, but in your silence, in your fight for life, you have shown me that the greatest blessing in life is not wealth, fame or power, but the privilege to live everyday of my life. Cheerz.