Last night my husband and I came face to face with the inevitable…a sick child who needed to go to the ER. It was compounded by the pain being abdominal (Emmy’s illness was malrotation of the intestine) and the fact that this child does not speak very well, so we were working off what very little he could communicate to us.
As I watched my son cry in pain, I knew I couldn’t just wait it out. My intincts have always been to watch and see, but I couldn’t this time.
Ty took him to urgent care around 10:30 pm and I stayed home with the other children since I have a nursing baby who still gets up several times a night. Ty gave me a play by play from the moment he pulled into the ER’s parking lot. I got to talk to Keian several times throughout the next 5 hours (yes, 5 HOURS), but it still broke my heart that I could not be there with him.
They checked for appendicits and UTI, but found neither. Blood tests and CT scan came back fine as well. There was some red blood cell spillage in his urine, but that can sometimes be perfectly normal. Diagnosis…unknown.
By the time they released him, he was feeling pretty good. He was still a bit pale this morning at his follow-up, but as the day wore on he looked better and better.
And I am okay with that. I don’t feel stupid that we took him in. And I’m oh so thankful they found nothing (which frankly, doesn’t mean there was nothing…it could mean the prayers of others were heard!)
At one point during the night, Ty called me and said, “There is a song playing over the loudspeaker here…it is ‘I Can Only Imagine.'” This song was played during the slideshow at Emmy’s funeral. We both lost it and Ty had to explain to the ER physician why he was so upset. The doctor showed nothing but compassion. He even offered to keep Keian overnight for our peace of mind. Our primary care doctor also expressed compassion when she said she absolutely understood why we took him in considering “all we had been through.”
I saw something in myself last night that I had not seen in such a raw way in quite a while.
It was fear.
Losing a child does not come with a guarantee that you will never, ever lose again. It does not mean you have “done your time.” It was this fear that terrified me last night. What if???
I had to keep reminding myself that fear is not of the Lord. I asked for prayer for K’s healing and comfort for my fearful spirit. Those of you who prayed, thank you! I did begin to rest easy and Keian got better and better! Your prayers were heard!
I wonder if I will always struggle with this fear? It always seems to be just below the surface until there is a crisis point and it comes bubbling out in a panic. It may be that I will never be rid of these feelings, but as a dear friend said to me at Emily’s funeral,
“No matter what you feel, His Word is still true.”
So, with that in mind, here is a passage of Scripture that has become one of my favorites that speaks to my fears:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
And through the rivers,
they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire,
you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.”