Before Even One Of Them Came To Be

My baby has been sick since Saturday. Really probably Friday night. He has hardly eaten. He had a low grade temp for two days. Then Monday and Tuesday he was uncharacteristically cranky. I mean, he is an all-or-nothing kind of boy. When he is being cute and sweet, there is nothing cuter or sweeter. When he is being a poo, well, there is not much question about what kind of mood he is in. And it ain't been pretty... though I must admit I love the clingy part of it, him probably being my last and all (forget that last part. I admit, I've enjoyed clingy mommy and baby moments all along).

Today he woke up with a weird skin something. I don't know if it is a rash. It is more under the skin. Kind of marbley. Looks like what I'd think of Fifth's Disease. But the doc's office says no because the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands are not bright red. And, because of the rash he has had since he was about 5 months old, it is hard to tell. That's another thing. Plus he is sometimes puffy. And crankier than my other babies. The doctor isn't worried, but sometimes I wonder.

Ethan's back today. Anyone recognize this rash?


I am spoiled. I came to the realization this winter. My oldest, Andrew, who was 17 then, got sick. One late night he was feverish and sweaty and really of out of it. I was really, really scared. Me, mother of six, experienced mom, knower of fevers and sicknesses and rashes and symptoms and home cures and such. I was pretty sure he was sick unto death. I applied cool cloths and kept watching to see if there was anything at all I could see that could warrant a trip to the ER. But then I didn't want him in ER either if his immune system was already whacked. He just laid there and sweated. I don't think he even knew I was there.

I did the whole self talk thing. It was just the flu. Lots of people get it. But not MY kids. It must be something else. I thought of all God has put on his heart to do with his life and how it had not yet been fulfilled. But then I thought of the saying about the good dying young. Yep, I walked down that road in my mind. Weak of me, but I did it.That was a long wet night. His sickly sweat, my nervous sweat and frightened tears. (Okay Mrs. Common Sense Mom. I see you rolling your eyes. It COULD happen to you ya know. I thought I was cool as a cuke about sick kids until then.)

The next day he was much better. And I was too relieved to feel foolish. But I did realize that lots of moms see their kids like that often. Just not me. Like I said, I am spoiled.

My sister-in-law, who by the way is probably the strongest lady I know, has watched four of her five kids live with a rare disease. She has lost several babies, one at full term. She has the same rare disease as her kids and also has Bell's Palsy and once went through an episode of having multiple little strokes. In her 40's. She lives her life all of the time the way I felt that one night.

These feelings always take me back to the time I really took to heart that all of our days are planned out already. It was after we lost our baby boy. My three boys at that time just looked so temporary to me and I was afraid of them. They seemed too delicate. The only way I could find any peace, or to sleep or laugh again, was to really understand the sovereignty of God. But apparently it's not a one-time realization.

As a mom, I need to revisit that scripture in my mind several times per day. Otherwise, the joy of being a mom just turns into fear at every moment.

What do you do to bring your thoughts captive when you are afraid for your kids?