Here we are again! Sorry I missed you yesterday. No really... I missed getting to sit here and tell you all about how great Ryan was to his sister yesterday, how great he and Maelynn both were for Richie's audiologist appointment in College Station yesterday, but I was so tired after that trip that I needed to chill and catch up with a little reading. I was still pretty freaked out and needing a break from figuring out how to orchestrate this surgery mess for Richie next week. It's on the very day that Ryan has meet the teacher, and it's an hour and a half out of town.
What? You didn't know Richie was under the weather? He's not, but he is. Let me back up a bit.
About two weeks ago, while we ate lunch as usual, Richie turned very red, seemed very stiff and leaned over. His eyes began moving quickly side to side. He cried out "Mommy... the house! The house!" I ran over to him, my mind racing a thousand places in a second. All the possibilities flooded me, including the brief, bone chilling, heart shattering thought that something could be happening that would take away my sweet boy. Choking? No. He could talk. Heart-something?! Neuro-something?! What in the world...?!
A couple of minutes later he was able to tell me that the house was "spinning around and around" and that it was scary. I had no idea what to think. After a few panicked calls to the doctor, we wound up in the office, telling him all about what we thought might be a seizure. A few x-rays and a lot of jabbering by mama later, we learned that Richie had (and likely still has) a very serious sinus infection, as well as a double ear infection.
This is where mama starts to hang her head. I had no idea. He hadn't acted sick, hadn't had a fever, and really had no symptoms to speak of. But he was obviously in some sort of pain.
I feel so bad. I had no idea.
I'm the mama! I'm supposed to know them better than anyone. But if there's anything that life in this little family has taught me, it's that I'm anything but in control.
Lesson re-learned last night. After a trip to the audiologist then back to the ENT, we came home with a surgery date looming. Adenoids and tonsils out, tubes in. I know it's routine surgery. But it's my Richie. My little golden-curled angel of a spider monkey who has to give me hugs and kisses "onna cheek" after gently moving my hair to the side. I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared. I woke up in the middle of the night last night, heart pounding, thinking of nothing but those doctors and my little Richie. And the fact that I didn't know.
Here's where I get to admit something else... I'm weak. And a little unintelligent.
No, I'm not going off on some self-deprecation trip. It's the truth. I can handle a lot of things, but when things start to happen to my loved ones, especially my kids, and I unravel at my very core. In an instant, I forget the years of trials and messes God has carried me through. And it's maddening.
For a long time I doubted my salvation over it. I doubted my ability to be a faithful believer because peace and coolness were not my knee-jerk reaction to adversity in any form. My heart races, my stomach tightens. I wring my hands, I cry, I contact my Mom and my in-laws, I ramble on through email and Facebook... sometimes all before remembering that while they all care, they can't change a thing. They're in the same boat we are. They hear what's going on, they pray for the outcome.
I'm not knocking wise counsel. I'm certainly not knocking the bearing of one another's burdens. But there comes a time when no one with skin on is available to help. When it's four in the morning, I'm sure there are friends we can call if we truly need that person with skin on, but even then you have to hang up sometime. Then what happens?
So here's what I did. After flip-flopping in my bed, deciding not to wake my husband (who had pulled an insanely long day the day before), I remembered what I needed to do. I silently poured out my fears to my Father.
As I woke this morning to a beautiful little girl climbing in bed with me, I realized first that I had been asleep... then that I had fallen asleep much the same way she was now... curled in the warm arms of someone I know to be faithful, ever-unchanging, and who loves me more than I can imagine.
I pray not that my children will never experience adversity or pain, but that they learn to find rest in the only true source of peace, hope, and joy. And that someday, that peace will be my knee-jerk.
Thanks be to God for his comfort!
What? You didn't know Richie was under the weather? He's not, but he is. Let me back up a bit.
About two weeks ago, while we ate lunch as usual, Richie turned very red, seemed very stiff and leaned over. His eyes began moving quickly side to side. He cried out "Mommy... the house! The house!" I ran over to him, my mind racing a thousand places in a second. All the possibilities flooded me, including the brief, bone chilling, heart shattering thought that something could be happening that would take away my sweet boy. Choking? No. He could talk. Heart-something?! Neuro-something?! What in the world...?!
A couple of minutes later he was able to tell me that the house was "spinning around and around" and that it was scary. I had no idea what to think. After a few panicked calls to the doctor, we wound up in the office, telling him all about what we thought might be a seizure. A few x-rays and a lot of jabbering by mama later, we learned that Richie had (and likely still has) a very serious sinus infection, as well as a double ear infection.
This is where mama starts to hang her head. I had no idea. He hadn't acted sick, hadn't had a fever, and really had no symptoms to speak of. But he was obviously in some sort of pain.
I feel so bad. I had no idea.
I'm the mama! I'm supposed to know them better than anyone. But if there's anything that life in this little family has taught me, it's that I'm anything but in control.
Lesson re-learned last night. After a trip to the audiologist then back to the ENT, we came home with a surgery date looming. Adenoids and tonsils out, tubes in. I know it's routine surgery. But it's my Richie. My little golden-curled angel of a spider monkey who has to give me hugs and kisses "onna cheek" after gently moving my hair to the side. I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared. I woke up in the middle of the night last night, heart pounding, thinking of nothing but those doctors and my little Richie. And the fact that I didn't know.
Here's where I get to admit something else... I'm weak. And a little unintelligent.
No, I'm not going off on some self-deprecation trip. It's the truth. I can handle a lot of things, but when things start to happen to my loved ones, especially my kids, and I unravel at my very core. In an instant, I forget the years of trials and messes God has carried me through. And it's maddening.
For a long time I doubted my salvation over it. I doubted my ability to be a faithful believer because peace and coolness were not my knee-jerk reaction to adversity in any form. My heart races, my stomach tightens. I wring my hands, I cry, I contact my Mom and my in-laws, I ramble on through email and Facebook... sometimes all before remembering that while they all care, they can't change a thing. They're in the same boat we are. They hear what's going on, they pray for the outcome.
I'm not knocking wise counsel. I'm certainly not knocking the bearing of one another's burdens. But there comes a time when no one with skin on is available to help. When it's four in the morning, I'm sure there are friends we can call if we truly need that person with skin on, but even then you have to hang up sometime. Then what happens?
So here's what I did. After flip-flopping in my bed, deciding not to wake my husband (who had pulled an insanely long day the day before), I remembered what I needed to do. I silently poured out my fears to my Father.
As I woke this morning to a beautiful little girl climbing in bed with me, I realized first that I had been asleep... then that I had fallen asleep much the same way she was now... curled in the warm arms of someone I know to be faithful, ever-unchanging, and who loves me more than I can imagine.
I pray not that my children will never experience adversity or pain, but that they learn to find rest in the only true source of peace, hope, and joy. And that someday, that peace will be my knee-jerk.
Thanks be to God for his comfort!
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