Faith

I am catholic. Not one of those fanatical and self-righteous catholics that feels every person living in a 3rd world country needs to give up their pagan lifestyle and convert to be saved. Instead I'm a very liberal one who firmly believes in woman's and gay rights. Controversial, I know, so sue me. But the general concept is the same. We all believe in Jesus Christ (how can you not when there is archeological evidence that he walked the earth, the resurrection however is a different story) and in God. I do also believe that God has some say in how life plays out and that I don't need to know everything and to just trust that it will all be ok. But on days like today, I wonder if I can truly say I have faith.
I spent my day caring for an infant fighting for her life against an incredibly aggressive cancer and brain infection. In medical terms, she doesn't even have a prognosis. It's just a waiting game to see what will give out first. And yet knowing this, that death is a certainty, I spent my day doing everything to keep her alive. Watching for any little sign that she was heading towards brain death and doing my damndest to reverse it.
As like any decent medical team would, we had a meeting with the family to determine whether or not we should withdraw all care. Should we stop everything we're doing now and just let her go on the path that she will eventually take anyway? Or keep going with all the agressive care we're doing now? Or maybe just keep things status quo and not do anything more if things take a turn for the worse? As one of the medical team, I guess I should have some answers. But all I know is that I HATE flashing a light in her eyes every hour to see if there will be a reaction this time. I HATE pinching and prodding her every hour too see if pain will be enough of a stimulus to get her to react. But I hate it even more when its not.
Her parents are good kind people with unshakable faith. They believe with all of their being that in the hands of God their child will be ok. It's humbling. To sit in a room with them after having see the monster growing inside their child on CT scan, and to see them be able to smile and be comforted in their faith baffles me. I can't say what I would do if it was my child. And I pray that I never have to. But these people touched me. They are articulate and intelligent and so comfortable and confident in their beliefs. Am I wrong? Are we as medical professions callous and uncaring by even broaching the topic of withdrawing care? I don't know. But I do know that that child, regardless of the quality of life she is living, is a true miracle. She has come into the world and touched people. She has accomplished in a matter of weeks what most people strive to do in a lifetime. Regardless of what happens, she has not lived in vain.