Thursday, November 15, 2012

At the foot of the cross

There's something unexplainable about the connection of a mom to her children. It comes from somewhere deep within and bonds you to them in a way you can't be bonded to any other. It is this bond that causes us to hurt when they hurt, struggle when they struggle, rejoice when they rejoice, and triumph when they triumph.

On Monday morning I arrived home from work and asked Andrew how our sick little boys were doing. They had both started on bad colds the previous day and Will had not slept well at all. Andrew said "okay... Just bad colds" and rushed off to work in his normal pattern. But my first look and listen to baby Will told me something different. He sat on the couch and sleepily stared at me with droopy eyes. His breaths were coming far faster than usual and he seemed to be struggling with each exhale. My mommy instinct said that even though Vince was going in that afternoon for a check up, I needed to get Will in ASAP. So I called the pediatrician and off we went.

The waiting room was agony. Vince happily watched the fish in the tank, but William wouldn't leave my lap. He wasn't talking or pointing at the fish. He just sat there limp, struggling to breathe and clutching me. Patient after patient was called back for their appointment and I just prayed we would be next.

Finally we got to see the nurse practitioner. The good news was that his oxygen levels were fine, but she said that his airways were just inflamed and he needed a breathing treatment. We were sent home with a nebulizer and an oral steroid prescription, and told to come back the next morning for a follow up.

After only two treatments my little man was doing so much better. He was like a different kid the next morning at his follow up. Laughing, playing, singing. Even smiling at the nurses! And I was a different momma.

It's so hard when they are sick and there's not much you can do. A mom feels their agony but can't take it away. During this small blip in our daily life I was transported back to the NICU and all those memories of my tiny baby hooked up to monitors and tubes lit up my memory.

It made me think of what agony Mary must have gone through watching Jesus die on the cross. I turned to her many times that day to help me. The pain she must have felt for him is unimaginable.

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