Counting Blessings

 

This is what it looks like when you tame a Jabberwocky.  If I never see it again, I'm fine with that.  My baby was hospitalized on Tuesday due to a severe asthma attack triggered by a virus.  A virus that coincidentally his brother ALSO had, but was able to fight off in three days without incident.  While at the hospital, I had so many thoughts I wanted to put down for posterity, so I'm going to share those with you all today.

My fourth baby.  Oh, how I love him.  I LOVE all of my children (please, don't get me wrong about that) but right from the beginning there is something different about this one.  He's been stressing me out since before he lived outside of me.  The only one of my children who sent me to the hospital prior to a scheduled induction, and not just once, three times.  Born with a true knot in his umbilical cord-but THANKFULLY screaming and pink-causing me to have a panic attack in the middle of the night.  His blood sugar wouldn't come up in the first few hours after birth, and he had to be taken to the nursery to be monitored, another first (none of the others had ever left my room after their births.)  He was a HORRIBLE newborn.  Cried ALL THE TIME and sent me to the brink of a nervous breakdown, quite literally.  I weaned him at 4 months old, which was a surprisingly difficult choice for me considering I had nursed all of the others for over a year.  After weaning, he became a whole new baby (thank heavens, because honestly I wanted to return him at that point.)  He has multiple food and environmental allergies, and has been to urgent care and the emergency room multiple times because of them.  He tests every limit I set, and is the culmination of every trait that makes me crazy in all of his siblings.  He possesses every recessive trait he could have pulled from the gene pool.  He is MORE of everything:  intense, sensitive, intelligent, energetic 

And yet...he pulls on my heart in a way that no one else does.  

Hearing alarm creep into the voice of the medical staff that is assisting your child is terrifying.  No parent should ever have to deal with that.  In the middle of the night, in a quiet hospital room (while my baby was sleeping, and with full knowledge that his attack was under control, and we would be going home the following day,) I thought of all the parents (and relatives) I know of who have dealt with things so much more long term than an exceptionally bad asthma attack.  Parents who have been told their child has cancer, or diabetes, or a heart condition.  Parents who don't get to bring their child home from the hospital.  Parents who lose the ability to hold, hug and comfort their child.  Perspective. 

Count your blessings.  Hold them close.  Things can change more quickly than you imagined.