It was two weeks of hell on earth. A blood draw for our youngest ended with bad results, which landed us in the E.R for more than six hours of testing, medication and observation. Days after, we noticed Preston sounding snotty. Enter another trip the E.R. Then, back for a blood draw the next day, more bad results. That landed us in the E.R. for a third time, this trip also lasting most of the day.
The next day, we debated on taking him in again for the congestion. We talked. We stayed put. And then, he looked grey.
We drove across town, worried, but when we got there the real panic set in. Nurses from all corners of the E.R. were swarming to our room. I had never been more scared in my life. My son might die and it will be my fault, I thought. We ended up in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit for two and half days for RSV.
Needless to say, our sweet babe of only six weeks had been poked more times than I cared to count.
At the next kidney check-up, Lisa, the nurse who always gets his blood draws on the first try, couldn’t get it. Preston’s veins had given too much. It appeared he had nothing left to give.
But then she tried some new techniques, with extra patience, attentiveness, and gentleness and got his veins to flow again.
It reminded me of my pregnancy with Preston. Being pregnant with a child with such high-risk medical complications, after having a child with Down syndrome and a heart defect and after losing a baby, it was too much.
We thought when we saw a beating heart and then got the genetic results back at the end of the first trimester, that we could breathe a sigh of relief. Instead relief was something we never found and ended up enduring some of the most difficult months of our lives.
My mom knew it. She didn’t have to say it. She just knew it was too much. It was too much to keep going on parenting, living life and having to move to a new state on top of it all. She moved in. She dropped her life, shared the load, so we could find a way to carry on. She ended up staying for five months. Five months.
When life takes too much from us, we need to let the Lisas and Jo Mamas (yes, that’s my mom’s grandmother name) to intervene. And when we see life taking too much from others, we need to be the Lisas and Jo Mamas. Not with a simple- let me know if you need anything, but by stepping in, sometimes without even being asked.
I think we make a mistake in the Christian community when we emphasize just have faith, just pray, just lean on God, too much in times like these. Yes, lean on Him. But remember that God sent people to do His work for Him. He still does. So, also lean on your people and be His people to those who need you most.
Midweek Moral is a new series at News Anchor To Homemaker. Every week I’ll be looking for a story, a lesson to learn from. It may come from my kids, husband, a stranger, one of my children’s many care providers, teachers, a church sermon, news event or something I’ve read. My blog posts are typically reflections of my own life. What I hope will be a bit different about this series is to find the bigger story, or moral, that we can all take something away from. Things that make us think. Also, my writings can sometimes take me hours upon hours to complete. These writings may be a bit shorter, might have a more casual style and will likely not be as big of an emotional commitment to read. I’ve heard on occasion that I’m a real tear-jerker! I’m hoping to provide a bit of thought and maybe even a lift to the middle part of your week. Thanks for taking this journey with me.