Hand Holder

Carter had a rough day yesterday. This is a picture of him, groggy and sick. Because he didn't have an IV he ended up getting dehydrated overnight and couldn't sleep. The nurses tried 5 or 6 more times to put in an IV, without success. The doctor came to get us at 4 a.m. because our sweet angel was just having such a hard time. So, only about 2 1/2 hours sleep for me (Sarah).
Dr. Schropp decided to put in a central IV, a procedure that is considered surgery. They had to put him under for it. We took him down at about 2:30 Monday afternoon, and he came back at 3:30. The surgery went well, and of course Carter woke right up and was quite mad and probably a bit uncomfortable.
It took me quite awhile to get him to settle down. After about 10 rounds of the "Lay Down" lullaby, he was calm and resting. I turned to go, to let him rest, and then the nurse came and began repositioning him, and of course he got all upset again. She jumped right over him, trying to comfort him and singing to him. That's when IT happened. THE MELTDOWN
I walked, no stormed, out of the NICU, furious and hurt. There, in the middle of the hallway I fell to the floor, sobbing. As a mom of a sick baby you feel so helpless. I had finally been able to sooth him, to make it all better for just a few moments, and it was ripped away from me. It is a hurt deeper than any other emotion to see your child suffer and not be able to fix it all.
And so I cried. And I yelled. And I cried some more. Finally, after a heart-to-heart with my own mother and a long walk, I returned to my baby--who was resting peacefully by that time.
So, why do I publish this story of my weakness for all my family, friends and strangers to see? For two reasons: 1) to be honest about the difficulty of this situation. and...
2)To say this: It goes beyond heartbreak to see your child hurting, as any parent knows. I now have the tiniest glimpse of God's love for us. As our Father, it must be so difficult to see us, His children, in pain, in sorrow, and even in sin. As I drove home from the hospital this morning, it was as if the entire morning program of 3 radio stations had been orchestrated just for me. And they probably had--God moves heaven and earth to mend the hearts and minds of His children. Song after song came across my radio, speaking of God's love, His faithfulness, and our brokenness. He gave me peace this morning, and my heart is filled with Scripture reminding me of His undying desire to heal our wounds. And though I am unable to fix my baby, I know that God is hard at work, healing through the doctors and nurses, and creating a miracle for my son. So, even in the difficult times, I must believe--even when I cannot see. Faith is a tricky thing, isn't it? One song I heard was a song about different names and identities of God. My new favorite: HAND HOLDER. Just as we all walked to Wendy's last night to get some dinner, and I held Morgan's hand to keep her safe, God holds our hands--for safety, for security, and for comfort. He sure held my hand yesterday.
Speaking of being a mom, I got my first Mother's Day gift. A beautiful quilt from my own Mom. Here are pictures (to come...blogger is having trouble)--keep in mind this is a quilt. Hundreds of tiny pieces of fabric sewn together as pixels to form my child's face. Its beauty is beyond description. Thank you, Mom!