I Can't - But I Could

Last Sunday we went to the Children's Museum after church.  I shouldn't have been there on my knee, but I was doing what I do best...pushing through the pain.  So, a little while into the visit I was in too much pain and decided we should go upstairs to the 'little people' section where they have a nursing nook and I could sit down and feed Asa.  There are a couple of other rooms up there too for the bigger kids, so that is what we did.  Sam came in and showed me his puppet 'froggy' and then walked out.  I smiled at his cuteness. 

I looked at the wall in front of me and there were daisies painted in a mural with butterflies....I started thinking about Rachel (And Amelia) and how I wished I would have been able to nurse her there like I had with the others.  Just then, Matt peeked in and asked where Sam was.  He had JUST left my little cubby so I said 'right out there' and didn't think anything else of it.  About 5 minutes later Desirae and Isaiah came in upset saying Sam was missing.  He can't be, he must be right out there and Matt just can't see him... I thought as I got up to look around.  I looked everywhere and still couldn't see him so I told Matt to go look down stairs.  By this point it had been at least 5-7 minutes since we had seen him.... but I was in the 'in between' where I figured Matt would walk down the ramp and find him right away.

That didn't happen.  I kept looking over the loft walls to the floor below at all the kids playing, praying I'd see Sam and he was nowhere to be found.  It was like a scary movie, kids screaming with delight all around.  I opened the elevator to see if he was on a joyride...nothing.  I looked over the last wall to find Matt describing to the front desk what my little boy was wearing and that was when I lost it.  I heard them call for assistance over the loud speaker and my heart dropped, knowing that sometimes these moments change from a scare to reality for so many people.   I practically ran down the ramp to the first floor, carrying Asa and dragging the other 2 behind me - It had been about 10 minutes and at this point I was saying out loud "No Jesus, No..."  (yep, pretty sure I looked like a nut case... a bunch of kids, limping, crying and praying out loud...)  I got to the bottom of the ramp and there he was, screaming as usual, holding onto Matt's hand.  I was never so glad to hear that scream.

I immediately said "I want to go home" and made my way to the coat room - where I quickly discovered that I had done WAY too much to my knee and my tears were not just over the scare now, but also my intense pain!  The kids were complaining cause they wanted to stay and all I could say was "I can't lose another one of you"

Do they get that?  Maybe.  But in that moment all I could do was lay out my stark cold reality.  I can't lose another child.  I can't.  And yet, I could.  I could.

So last night Matt got back out of bed to come down and thank me for all that I have done for Rachel and for our family and for God with Rachel's life.  It was nice - yet totally uncomfortable - to hear.  He said "It wasn't as tragic as it should have been, you made it pretty" 

I'm glad.... but all I could say was "it was tragic for me" - it still is. 

No sooner did we get done with this conversation and I looked over at Asa in his swing to see him with his mouth open and tongue sticking out.  I jumped to get closer and see if he was breathing cause this is not his usual face while sleeping.  I couldn't see his shirt moving.  I touched his arm.  He didn't move.  I shook him a bit.  Still nothing.  I said "Jesus, NO!" and he jumped. 

"I thought he was dead" I said and I started bawling out of relief.

Matt came over and started praying for me... but it went something like this "Thank You Lord that You are in control and you will do what you will with Asa's life, just like You did with Rachel's" - I know what he meant.  He meant that each of our children's lives are in His hands...and His hands are a safe place to be.  But that is not what I heard.  I heard, it's fine with us if you take him too, just do something pretty with it - I argued my point, "Just because He has control doesn't mean they won't DIE - and I'm just not into it."  The truth of my distrust was unavoidable.  I was all about "I trust You God" when I was waiting to see if I was going to die from a tumor in my knee....but when it comes to my kids, that comes MUCH harder.

Did he get that?  Maybe.  But in that moment, I couldn't handle the utter powerlessness over my babies.  I can't lose another child.  I can't.  And yet, I could.  I could.

Today I was changing Asa.  I flipped his shirt up away from his diaper and the snap hit him in the chin.  My mind immediately went back the the hospital room with Rachel.  I had asked the nurse that was on that morning if she could cut Rachel's umbilical cord thing off so I could keep it.  She came in, flung her shirt up and it hit her in the face.  I asked her to be careful.  She opened the scissors and lost her grip and the handle hit her in the eye.  That was it.  I told her to get out and told Matt that if he didn't get me another nurse I was going to freak out.  "She wouldn't have treated her like that if she was alive" I demanded.  And so Matt went out and got me another nurse (thank you, honey) and that nurse was Kim who I had the day before and am still in contact with regularly :o)  (love you Kim)

But as I realized that I had just done the exact thing to my live baby, I felt bad...  Maybe she WAS treating her like she was alive and not dead.  Maybe it was the opposite of how it felt that day?  I got really close to Asa and I started telling him about his sister.  I told him how he got to come into that room with me while I was waiting for him and that his sister had been in that room.  And the tears started flowing... I told him I miss her so much and I kissed his belly.  I felt his lungs fill with air and I thanked God that he is alive.  I picked him up, hugged him tight and begged him to stay with me....

Does he get that?  Nope.  But in that moment all I could do was hold onto all I have.... and cry over what I've had to let go.  I can't lose another child.  I can't.  And yet, I could.  I could.