peanut butter/jelly

pears

apple juice

chocolate pudding

wrap : turkey, tomato, lettuce, onion, pickle, swiss, mustard

spinach salad

iced tea

*  *  *  *  *

i sat down to start this post in the hospital friday while sweet pea slept.

words didn’t come.

i hadn’t yet processed what you’re about to read. in stressful situations, i am in the moment. i can handle it. i don’t get emotional because i’m too busy doing what i gotta do to get through. days later, i process and feel overwhelmed or scared or grief. now was not the time to root around for words, i was in the moment and the process of processing the event hadn’t yet begun for me.

the words didn’t come, so instead, i used the page to type out our lunch order. i didn’t think it saved, but it did.

i figured i might as well leave it as a momento of our stay.

*  *  *  *  *

i question myself before i write posts like this one…our life, when it’s not all painted and pretty. but then i think about my blog and what i like to think it stands for, and i hope it embraces real life with honesty, woven with snippets of humor, encouragement, and reality; all in an effort to create a place where we feel welcome, and different, yet the same; either by who we are or what we’ve gone through.

so i post it.

because it’s real life. it happened, and now, when it’s all done, i process.

*  *  *  *  *

i called 9-1-1 for the first, and hopefully only, time in my life on thursday. after a somewhat normal start to our day, barring the throwing-up-in-the-car-part by sweet pea, i remember consciously acknowledging my gratitude for the flu. being grateful, thankful that all we were dealing with was a little puke here and there. i do that every time my kids are sick because i tend to root my feelings in gratitude and reality…it could always be much worse, and i try not to take that for granted.

20 minutes post-gratitude, i’m talking to 9-1-1 dispatch, my voice shakey yet firm as i relay what i know to be true :

my baby is having a seizure.

i cradle the seizing body of my 18 month old, her eyes rolling and vacant, physically there, but most definitely not; her body trembling and stiff for minutes that felt like eons, and when the seizure released it’s violent grasp…she lay in my arms limp.

lifeless.

i feel helpless, and scared, and my heart hurts with a love that has no name. that surfaces during times of trial. my heart, my whole being, is gripped with painful love, like it’s holding it’s breath, waiting for something good to come out of the bad.

the EMT’s show up. sweet pea is lifeless, unresponsive. except to pain, and she cries out when they try to get an IV going. that cry was the most beautiful sound i’ve ever heard.

bless her soul, she’s in there. and i am overjoyed.

the rest is a blur. i manage to call a friend to come get sunshine. i pack the diaper bag while they load her little body onto a gurney : a tiny little thing, out of place on such an expansive plane. my friend shows up. sunshine cries. i tell him everything’s ok, and i love him. and then, we’re gone.

i call lover from the ambulance, sirens blaring…happy birthday lover, meet me at the ER, your baby girl’s so very sick.

it really was his birthday.

i won’t drag you through the rest, but there were lots of tests, and scans, and crying, and x-rays, and sleeping that culminated in a stay at the hospital. there was an overwhelming outpour of love and support from friends and family near and far, sending prayers and thoughts and support and love. and to them i am forever grateful.

the verdict a day later :

that everything is fine…for now.

she’s healthy and happy, and so, we wait. we wait and see if it reoccurs; wait and see what the future holds for sweet pea.

hopefully, prayerfully, nothing.

a few days later, it feels a little like a dream, but as i sit here typing in the chair where it all went down, my heart grips tight in my chest and for a moment it is real again. and i internally acknowledge it very well could be.

real again.

tonight, i chew on that, attempt to digest it, and pray that that won’t be the case.

*  *  *  *  *

i learned a few things from our scary experience. nothing earth shattering, just snippets here and there :

1 * i fall more in love with lover when he is in this roll. caring for his babies. loving on them. giving them what they need.

{let’s not make this frequent though, m’kay lover? we’ll have to find a less scary way for me to fall more in love with you!}

2 * hospital food is as bad as i remember it. {seriously. how do you mess up grilled cheese?}

3 * my boy’s true hearts shine through in moments like these. they told me they prayed for sweet pea, that they missed her. their reunion was for the records. running hugs from sweet pea, kisses, big smiles. she loves her brothers that one does. and they her.

4 * we are so blessed to live near chad’s sister. she was right there at the hospital with us and took the load off in so many ways. grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

5 * the cream they use during an EEG should be bottled as the best hair gel on the market. word.

{what light socket?}

6 * hospital rooms are not meant to contain active toddlers for over 24 hours. even if they are sick.

{um, excuse me…m’am? this is a no-climbing zone. yeah. get down.}

*  *  *  *  *

at the end of the day, i return to gratitude.

i’m thankful that we’re home. that she’s sleeping upstairs in her bed, safe and sound and healthy. thankful for friends. for family. for texts and messages coming in with prayers for sweet pea…i’m certain the floors of heaven were flooded with them that day. i’m thankful, as i am everyday, for God’s perpetual love, His precious gift of life and His never-ending help in trouble.

and i’m thankful for this,

everyday.