Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Everything in it's place...

This is the kind of thing I could easily forget. But shouldn't. Yesterday was a long day, filled with trials, sweet moments, and prayer.

I woke up at 4:00 am. That's been a routine for about a week now. A trip to bathroom, a drink of water, and a quick prayer that I will be able to fall asleep again easily. But yesterday, I was wide awake and felt restless. I thought maybe God was trying to get my attention. Pray...for someone. There are lots of people in our community hurting right now. So I started praying. Then my tummy rumbled. Uh oh.

As is usually the case after getting sick, I felt better immediately. Then comes the waiting time. Was this a one time only thing? Or the beginning of a bug.

20 minutes later...yep, it's a bug.

Joel is leaving at 6:30 am for a 3 day trip to Dallas. He made a quick trip to the store to buy me some ginger ale. Sweet. Still, I try to think about an entire day of this with a toddler who surely will not understand why I don't want to play.

Around 10:00, I was dead tired, and since Eli still doesn't watch t.v., so I called our neighbor Liza to see if she could take Eli for a walk. She came over to pick him up. But he just layed across my lap, saying, "hug." He seems to have a sixth sense for when things are not quite right, and I didn't want to send him off in the wagon screaming. So we walked across the street, and got him started playing with her boys in the backyard. 10 minutes later, I headed home for a nap.

At 12:45, she brought him back over. He seemed cheerful. She said he didn't eat much lunch.

At 12:50, he was playing with his toys right in front of me, and he threw up. His eyes were wide as he looked at me, trying to figure out what was happening. He cried. "Falling out? Is falling out?" he said in between heaves. I felt helpless. Our everything-in-it's-place little boy does not like it when things spill. And he started trying to pick it up. I told him "No, don't touch!" and realized that I sounded like I was scolding him right in the middle of it all. How could I make him understand that this mess was okay, that I would take care of it?

The next time, he said "fall out again" right before he threw up. It happened another 10-15 times. It still makes me teary to think of it. He doesn't know to lean forward over a sink or toilet. He doesn't know that wood floors are easier to clean that carpet or a couch. He does know that he feels safe when his head is on my shoulder or he is laying in my lap. At one point, I settled for putting a towel on the floor and just letting him lay on my lap. More than anything, I wanted him to be safe and comforted.

How do you answer a 21 month old who begs for apple juice or water when you know they will only throw it up in 30 seconds? How do you tell them it is best for them to be thirsty and let their tummy settle down, so they can get better?

Just another reminder of the things I ask God for... when the answer is "no" or "not yet."

Is there anything in the world that will make a mother forget her own discomfort more quickly than the discomfort of her child? I guess somewhere I still new I was tired and thirsty and hungry, but it wasn't such a big deal anymore.

Finally, around 7:00 p.m., he kept a 1/2 ounce of water down. At 7:15, we tried another. I'd set the timer each time and try to distract him as he said, a million times, "Nore attel zuice? Nore? Mama, nore peeze?" My heart ached. Then the timer would go off, and it was time to ration some more.

At 9:00, he feasted on some banana and toast.

At 9:45, he was asleep. Peacefully.

He stayed asleep until 10:30 this morning, when I woke him up.

Today, I am thanking God for our health, and for the lessons.

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