Every Once In a While...

Every once in a while, when a moment you've been dreading finally approaches, you find yourself simultaneously knowing this is positively dreadful, and yet full of gratitude for the goodness of other people.

That happened this morning. My sweet little boy finally had to have a food allergy blood test run today. I kept seeing this day getting closer and closer, and I swear, I haven't dreaded anything so much since I saw the euthanasia of my beloved cat drawing nearer. I said it that way, too. Last night, I told George, you know...I feel like I'm having a pet put down tomorrow. He said it wouldn't be that bad. I said yes it would--have you ever tried to hold down your own child while they dig around in his arm with a needle? This is not a vaccine. Vaccines are a cinch. Blood draws are another story entirely. He said, mm hm.

I woke up an emotional wreck. Fighting tears all morning, especially when I took him to the park and he was so interactive with me. I thought, this is the end. He's going to hate me, he's going to think I betrayed him, he's going to withdraw into himself the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week. I kept telling myself that this needs done. He won't feel better until we get these answers; he just doesn't understand that. And that kept me going.

I finally buckled and called a friend of mine from church. I just had to admit it--I couldn't do this alone, if for no other reason than four hands is a bare minimum for holding down a bucking, kicking, head-butting 2-year-old. This was the best decision I made all day.

She called ahead to the hospital to see if her friend was working in the lab that day ("she does the best blood draw I've ever had," she said). She wasn't, but she went to the hospital ahead of me, ran to the cafeteria, and grabbed a little container of applesauce to occupy him after the ordeal was over. I mean, who thinks to be that amazing? Anyway, she walked up and down the hallways with him while I did outpatient registration, and waited for his name to be called while we played in a more open space. She called us in when it was time, and had my purse, phone, and keys in hand.

But the part that made me the most deeply grateful was the part where she held William's little hand the entire awful time, and prayed over and over, under her breath, "Lord, have mercy; Lord, have mercy; Lord, have mercy."

That alone was enough to make me fall on my knees to God in overwhelming gratitude. I realized then, I had actually expected to be all of those things to William today: I was going to be the one holding him down, singing him a song, holding his hand, praying "Lord, have mercy," talking to the nurses, signing registration forms, keeping him happy before and after the procedure...and the fact is, I couldn't physically be all of those things. Watching my friend take over certain things made me acutely aware of what my role was, and the fact that I was doing them to the best of my ability because she was there. Seeing the emotion on her face as she prayed for my little boy took all the weepiness out of me. All those tears I wanted to cry, I just kind of handed them over, and my arms were strong to hold my son.

All this time, I've been working to become this very strong woman. And I learned today: it's not in me alone. It's in my God, and in my community. When we shoulder what we should, and when we ask for help when we should, that's where the strength is. The strength in me, as admirable as it may be and has become, only goes so far.

So, thank you, my friend.