Our weekend was pretty awesome.
It started with grandma and grandpa coming into town for the three days.
And that’s always exciting.
Plus, it meant week 2 of skate camp for Henry.
Which, is pretty much the funnest in all the land.
Then we took a walk over to a nearby park and played in our new dresses.
Sisters on tire swings are the best.
We sat on the grass and picked daisies for grandpa.
Moms and brothers even got in on the action.
And then, we walked home the 2 blocks.
Where Miss Jill, in a silly mood from all the play, decided to lean forward in her stroller and try to touch the wheels.
And, while crossing the street…as in the MIDDLE of the street…she fell right of the stroller and faceplanted.
Was she strapped in?
No, no she was not. Because she’s three and a half. And we were only walking a couple of blocks. And we rarely strap her in because…I mean…she’s fine, right?
Oh hindsight. Aren’t you just the smarty pants?
Her face was a little scraped up, but nothing too awful.
The problem is that we’ve learned that one of her seizure triggers is physical pain/trauma (she has epilepsy).
So, basically, this could be a really bad thing. Really bad.
She seemed fine for about an hour after the tumble. She was even giggly and played.
Until suddenly, she collapsed while she was crawling and looked up at me in anguish…she was still conscious, but couldn’t move her body.
Andy and I sprang into action and gave her rescue meds just as she started seizing.
It stopped. Whew. Crisis averted.
She took a nap on the couch. I ate my dinner in the living room while everyone else ate in the kitchen so that I could keep a close eye on her.
She woke up suddenly. Agitated. Angry. Sort of swatting at her face like something was hurting. Before I knew it, she was seizing again.
Phone calls to her neurologist. More meds.
Henry has seen this before. But this time bothered him. He cried that he “wouldn’t be able to walk with Jilly anymore.” That he wanted to play with her.
We sent him into the other room with grandparents, but I never quite know what to do. It’s part of our life. For all of us. It’s not just Jilly’s cross to bear. But I hate for him to be traumatized by having a sibling that requires somewhat regular ambulance rides. (Lucy and Owen were already in bed by now.)
I made Andy ride in the ambulance this time. I’ve always been the one to ride with her. I wanted him to do it this time. I think I just wanted him to know what it felt like. The lights. The siren. Walking alongside the stretcher through the hospital halls.
For me, it’s such a lonely feeling.
Although following behind the flashing, blaring ambulance was almost worse. As other cars slid over to make room, I could only think “That’s MY girl in there. Not just a nameless, faceless person. My baby girl with big blue eyes.” And I was bitter that everyone else could just swing right back into the lane and move along with their evening, after only being inconvenienced for a few seconds.
As I waited what felt like an eternity for them to drive away (it was only two minutes…I was shocked when I looked down at my phone), I immediately instagrammed this image.
Because I knew, that for whatever odd reason, people care for my silly little family. And in this most helpless of situations the only thing I could do was petition.
In less than an hour, over 60 comments all saying the same thing: We are praying.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Our memorization verse up on my chalkboard this week “just happened to be”… “When I am afraid, I will trust in God.” -Psalm 56:3. I must have repeated that verse in my head about 457 times in those 72 minutes.
But you know what? It was an awesome weekend.
Because the next day I had this girl snuggled up on the couch at home. Not still in a hospital. Or worse.
She was tired and worn out. Like her little batteries were drained. But she was home.
Grandparents just “happened” to be in town to stay home with the others so that I could have some moral support at the hospital.
Andy was running late to his basketball game. He was still home.
Just the right bible verse was scrawled on the wall in my kitchen.
We have the world’s most incredible team of medical professionals who give us their personal cell phone numbers and tell us to call anytime…the phone would be by the bed.
We live just a few miles away from the hospital so when Owen woke up in a panic, I was able to run home real quick, nurse him, and be back at the hospital within about twenty minutes’ time. (Jill was stable by then.)
There may have been some scary parts in the middle, but the weekend ended with me and this girl watching Brave.
And that’s pretty awesome.
God is good. Always. No matter what.
Today I’ll be stockpiling some milk in the freezer and ordering this.
How was your weekend?