Our family is settling in after Oliver's February diagnoses (2021). What felt hopeless and insurmountable for Oliver has now become our everyday---managing medication, incorporating PT & OT into daily routine, researching/education and shifting how we parent to better accommodate how our sweet youngest processes life. It has been an adjustment but an honor to see this little man's life unfold and to rely on God to give us wisdom and direction in the middle of this pandemic.
Looking back on Oliver's last 4 and a half years of life, it is a privilege to stand where I do. To watch him thrive in preschool--almost mastering skills I thought he would never learn. Peering at his sweet sleeping face, holding his creations from school and reflecting back on his amazing use of language and words. I am in awe.
Despite the growth I have seen, I had a flashback moment today while driving to pick up Oliver's siblings from school. Exhausted from preschool, Oliver quickly fell asleep within 5 minutes of being buckled into his car seat. As we drove the 25-minute drive to his sibling's school, down the leaf covered street, Oliver began to sporadically cough in his sleep--more of a gag. His eyes closed---sleeping, still, not moving.
Instantly, my mind went to worst case scenario. I was reminded of when he stopped breathing after we finally brought him home. I was reminded of the time when Tyler rapidly drove Oliver to the ER, rubbing Oliver's sternum almost the whole way. My mind recalled the pain of trying to feed him while dealing with his reflux coughing fits.
In the pouring rain on a gloomy fall day, with snowing leaves, I had a moment of PTSD.
Every few seconds I looked back---my mind conjured up a thousand questions (& panicked scenarios) while trying to keep in my minivan in the yellow lines on the wet roads:
- Is he breathing? Does he have color? Is his chest rising and falling? Is he moving---at all? Do I need to call 911? Should I wake him up or let him sleep?
What felt like an hour (seriously) was really only two stop lights. By that time, Oliver cleared his throat, moved his hands and adjusted his head -- almost as if to say, "Nothing to see here. I am fine, just choking a bit on my saliva while I sleep."
I could have had a heart attack; my heartrate was so high.
**SIGH** Relief.
I pulled the van safely into the school parking lot, reversed into a parking spot and about lost it. Grief. Pain. Hardship. All of those "not so fun" emotions from a "not so easy" season of life--I need to let him sleep. I need to recover from my emotions. A kind act from another mother--who brought my other two children to my van while Oliver slept--was just the moment I needed. A moment of grief, a moment of acknowledgement--sitting there for just a moment--before I had to jump back into my role as a "Mother of Three"
I am thankful that mother, unknowingly, gave this moment to me. I am grateful I could recognize but not linger in my grief. In the past, it would have taken a while for me to "snap out of it." The Lord has blessed me with healing, with joy, with peace about all the events we faced as a family upon Oliver's arrival.
I had to laugh a little though--of course ALL of this comes on the eve of his annual surgical follow-up (which includes a chest x-ray, nutritionist, echocardiogram among other tests/procedures). It has been a while since I have had such a blatant reminder of Oliver's tough beginning of life story.
So, I sit here at my computer--all three children snug in their beds for the night--grateful. Oliver continues to remind me of just how precious this life is. None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. What we do--What we say--How we say it-- it ALL matters. I hope you take this as a reminder too...we simply trust the Lord, submit our ways to Him and He will always show us the way. He will always be our Healer. He will always bring us through our hard things--whether on earth or in Eternity with Him.
Glory be to God Almighty.
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