true fear

i know mothers whose children have suffered.

i know the mother whose child threatens to come too early. i know the mother whose child has been struck with a list of seemingly small things only to have it culminate in a diagnosis of JRA. i know the mother whose child fought leukemia for months before slipping into his own sweet six year old heaven. and last night i became a mother who called 911.

we were wrapping up a busy day with a rare indulgence of delivery pizza. we felt so guilty that we threw some fresh asparagus and first of the season squash on the grill to eat with it. while we waited for the grill to heat up, baby, big sister and i sat outside and picked hundreds of chamomile buds from the plants i’d harvested at the garden. our finger tips smelled of the sweet scent of chamomile. we talked about how we’d dry the buds and make tea with them that would taste ten times better than chamomile in a bag. big brother and daddy came home from soccer practice.

dinner was delicious. we talked, laughed, told stories, and when we were too tired to make our way upstairs for bedtime routine, we stayed outside and ate sorbet instead. then baby pooped in her diaper and the stench forced us all out of our dream world and back into reality. big brother headed upstairs for a shower. big sister took baby inside to take off her shoes. then we heard a loud thud. and i looked at my husband.

-well, what could it be this time?

i leaned back in my chair to see baby lying on the floor with her arms outstretched. i ran inside and picked her up. her eyes rolled back into her head. her face was purple red, and her fists were clenched at either side of her face.

-honey, something’s wrong with her! call 911.

we waited ten minutes for an ambulance. i laid her down on the couch while she cried and then whimpered. she made the sign language sign for change, as if to say mommy, don’t forget that i need a fresh diaper. i changed her in order to help keep her from sitting up. then she said,

-bath?

-yes baby, we’ll take a bath later.


i started shouting orders to big brother and sister, to my husband:

-go get dresssed.
-get your shoes on.
-call my parents.
-get some diapers.
-get her shoes.


a team of people came into our dining room to examine her. they said everything looked fine but that it would be best to have her checked out at the hospital. my husband took the older two kids in the car and i rode in the ambulance. i put her down on the huge stretcher and strapped her tiny body in while she held her stuffed bear. she looked so confused but never once cried. she just reached out and took my hand. the emt riding in the back with me kept trying to make small talk with me:

-so, another one on the way, huh?
-what are you, eight months?
-how long you been livin’ in southwest?
-do you work?

i just kept looking at her and wiping tears from my eyes when really just wanted to say shut the hell up! can’t you see i don’t care about anything else but her right now?!

we arrived at the hospital and were sent to triage. i met up with the rest of our family. for the next couple of hours we sat in the waiting room. we had that feeling of regret and doubt. did we need to be here? was she just fine? she was up at this point, walking around, talking, smiling. but i couldn’t shake the image of her eyes rolling back in her head and so we stayed and waited. eventually we were seen by three doctors who had to weigh the risk of a CT scan and exposure to radiation with the possibility of a brain injury. the fact that she was talking, alert, and had not vomited were all good signs. as a compromise they had her stay until three in the morning for extended observation. so we had all three kids climb into bed and sleep together. baby did not nod off until 1 AM. i kept hearing the screams, cries, and wails of other mothers’ children and i wondered how someone could make this a living. i just sat there and kept looking at our kids and thanking God they were alive and ok and whole and at peace. and i took a picture.

our world squeezed into one bed.

i kept thinking of a poem by e.e. cummings:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)




and i thanked God for my kids.