gentle reminders

Sometimes you get a reminder of how quickly things can change, how little in control we are, and what is really important. I have been gently reminded.

12 days post-partum, I was occupying myself by cutting and organizing a boat-load of coupons. I had what I thought was a back ache which slowly turned into a stomach ache, but I thought, this too shall pass. Well, it just wouldn’t go away. My husband {M} came home post-call, and after taking a look at me says, “You look sick, what’s wrong?” My response, “Well, my stomach hurts, I’m tired, and I haven’t showered yet.” After a few hours and no relief, M did his own exam and suspected appendicitis so off we went to the ER. I had a terribly hard time leaving my wee ones especially my little Ezra. He’s the only one who is solely dependent on me and I had no idea how long I would be gone for.

Anyways, M was right – appendicitis it was for which surgery is the only option. I am happy to say that they were able to the surgery laparoscopically which meant I was back home in less than 24 hours. Very sore, but I was back in my noisy home with all the ones I love most. I’m still waiting to feel back to normal but in the meantime, my heart is full of thankfulness. I dropped quite a few tears that night … and not because I was scared or anxious but because I was reminded of God’s goodness. For instance…

-- My parents and sister are still here and were able to take care of the children. That’s 3 extra pairs of hands who would have otherwise been 1000 miles away

-- Baby Ezra took the bottle for the first time, sweet adaptable little guy and when I got home, he went happily back to nursing

-- The boys joyfully adjusted to very quick changes

-- M was home on a Friday afternoon and could be with me the whole time at the hospital even though I’m sure he was exhausted from being on call on Thursday

-- The medical team was extremely supporting. They provided pumping supplies, information and anything else I needed to make sure this surgery was easy for me and my 12-day old baby

-- I got to the hospital earlier than later… resulting in a faster, ‘simpler’ surgical procedure

So, I’m sitting on my bed, not doing too much other than nursing a baby, enjoying the sounds of the little ones chattering away as my sister tells them the Easter story, listening to pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, wondering what the smells in the kitchen mean, waiting for my hubby and dad to come back from church and waiting for this body to heal up so I can be off again.