If there were a rite of passage for parenthood, I’d venture to say it’s not a baby shower or a milestone birthday or watching your child take their first step. Maybe, instead, it’s that first trip to the ER.
Our ER adventure started with the most innocuous of summer events: a bug bite. But by day two, the swelling was getting worse and the Benadryl wasn’t doing the trick. By the time our little boy woke up from his nap, both eyes were swollen completely shut. The pediatrician sent us straight to the ER—forget dinner, let alone combing your hair.
Once Graham and I were on the road (Daniel couldn’t go, per COVID regulations), I heard Graham’s little voice pipe up from the backseat, “How you feeling, Mama?” Before I could come up with a reply that was both honest and calming, he replied, “I feeling happy.” This from a boy whose eyes looked like jet-puffed marshmallows and who could no longer see out the window.
Once we were whisked into our hospital room, Graham was given a tiny gown with rocket ships on it and pumped with even more Benadryl. He let the doctor pry open his eyes and dutifully responded when asked, “Does this hurt? How about this?”
He was a champ . . . under one condition: that he knew precisely where I was. And since his visibility was at practically zero, that meant physical contact. If I took my hand off of him for even a second, he would say, “Where are you, Mama?” So I’d rub his back or put my hand on his arm while singing every hymn I could access from the cobwebs of memory.
By hour three in the ER, as we waited in vain for the Benadryl to kick in, it was well past bedtime. After dozing off in the too-big hospital bed, he’d wake up, startled. “What is you and I doing, Mama?” he asked. I’d hold his hand and remind him where we were. And then he’d breathe a sigh and lean back on the pillow again.
Thankfully, Graham’s eyes recovered (although we never did figure out the rogue bug that got him). The main thing he remembers about his hospital visit was the bed with wheels, which he thought was the coolest thing since Thomas the Tank Engine. But I can’t stop thinking about the kind of childlike faith that requires only presence, not answers.
By all counts, this year has been a year of reckoning for our nation, for our world. Everywhere we turn, there’s pain, suffering, injustice, division. Every day the news headlines bring a new reason for lament. With my jaded, grown-up faith, I ask God, “Why? How long? What are you going to do about all this?”
I want to be more like my little boy, with just one pressing question: Where are you, Papa?It may not make the pain go away. It may not change the circumstances. It may not answer all my whys.
But I’ll be reminded that he’s right here, holding my hand. Always has been, always will be. And for now, at least, maybe that’s enough.
But as for me, God’s presence is my good.
Psalm 73:28
I have made the Lord God my refuge,
so I can tell about all you do.
Oh dear! What a scary experience for such an adorable boy!
He did like all the attention from the nurses. 🙂
Oh Stephanie…the faith of a little child knowing you were there and he only had to call out.
And Jesus heard his calls also.
God bless you all! Prayers and hugs to all❤
Yes, you are right, Barb! The faith of a child!
Oh, Stephanie, you brought the tears again! To have a childlike faith … . We did the very same thing with our middle boy. He was bit by a mosquito two times on the forehead and both eyes swelled shut and it was off the the ER. It was IV fluids that took care of the reaction but oh the terror of a mother’s heart sitting in those uncomfortable hospital chairs with my son. Thank you so much for this reminder. I am the child and the Lord, well, He is my Shepherd.
You have been there, Kristen! We learn so much from these little people, don’t we?
Oh, that same year I think we also had to go in for stitches because he was running for the potty, skidded across the floor, slid, and hit his face on the toilet. Blood everywhere, which he was good with as long as it wasn’t in his eyes. Crazy times with little boys!
AHHH! #boymom
Oh buddy! Thanks for the insight as always, stephanie.
Thanks, my friend!
Your words were touching but oh my goodness this picture speaks a 1,000 words. #brokenmommaheart
You have walked this road of mom-sacntification, my friend.
Oh my heart! Your wisdom: presence not answers. What a gift!
Love you, Cheryl!
This post, and the photo of your previous little guy, so touched my heart. Thank you for sharing this profound truth with us!
Thank you, Maggie!
Thank you so much for your insight reminding us that the only thing we need know is that God’s presence is always with us, whether we are in the emergency room or our living room. Poor Graham though – that was a rough one. Thank you so much for sharing your gift with us!
Thank YOU for encouraging me to write!
I didn’t know this! You’ve written beautifully and highlighted the good coming from the bad. I’m signing up for your your amazing wisdom and faith in all forms–blog, book, everything. Kiss Graham for me. Love, Aunt Dandi
Aww, thank you, Dandi!