I had planned to write a cute little story about how we celebrated my youngest daughter turning 4. And I’m sure I will share the joys we experienced at some point. But the thing about life is…it’s never quite what you expect. Never as simple as the plans we lay out for ourselves.
Tonight’s story has a happy ending, but the process…not happy. See we settled back into the routine of daily life after a quick overnight trip to pick up my husband from San Antonio and celebrate a birthday. Our daughter was happily decorating the jewelry box she got from her birthday and I was warming up dinner. And then there was a crash. And a scream. If you have kids, you know the differences in their cries. This was a scream that spoke of real pain, real injury.
And as quickly as my bum leg would let me move I ran to the stairs to see my sweet 2 yo son face down screaming. I picked him up and saw the bleeding and swelling in his face. Let my husband know it was potentially very bad and moved as quickly as I could back to the kitchen. Ice pack. Tylenol. Send the oldest to see if the other kids can go to the neighbors house. The screaming unending. Rip a car seat out of the car (yes I know it’s illegal) so I can hold my son on the way to the hospital. Chase the kids across the street with a few boxes of Mac n cheese.
Aaron climbed in the drivers seat as I called urgent care who told us to go to the er at Texas Children’s. Call ahead to let them know we are coming. Screaming. Puking. Then silence. I whispered “oh shit” and start praying. Working to keep him awake and crying. I’m no medical expert, but I do know that head injuries followed by puking and loss of consciousness are not a good combination.
Thankfully the staff immediately got us through triage and in a room. We were told we could let him sleep and waited for the doctor to come in.
And I wish I could say I had peace. But I didn’t. I had all sorts of feelings, but peace, not high on the list. The doctor came in and evaluated my son. Gave us good news. Everything seems intact. No signs of broken bones (not even that poor swollen nose) or brain swelling. And Aaron and I both exhaled a “thank you Jesus ”
See both of us, unspoken, thought we might loose our youngest son. And we’re not the panicky type. We treat most injuries and illnesses at home. We let our kids climb trees and get stuck in them. Most falls are met with a hug and a kiss and maybe an ice pack. But this time…fear gripped our hearts. This looked bad. This was terrifying.
I know this for sure…even when I let go of my peace, Jesus didn’t let go of us. Even when my mind went to worst case scenario, the Holy Spirit within me prayed where I couldn’t. Even though my flesh was weak, God was still strong for me. And that the Lord will never, ever let me down, of that I am certain.
I am sure that my son will be back to himself in no time. He’s a fighter…literally. He tries to “hi-yah” everything. And anything is a sword…even his pointer finger. And if you’re not in the mood to battle…he still is. And while sorrow may last for the night…there’s joy in the morning!