Wednesday, June 3, 2015

No Good Thing Does He Withhold

Turns out, I did have the stomach virus. Turns out Aquaman did too. In fact, we started vomiting at precisely the same time. And for whatever reason...which I have analyzed and analyzed again since that moment...I couldn't actually stop vomiting. 13 times in 3 hours.

Here we are eating ice chips on a sleeping bag on the floor together, in between episodes. While Greystoke crowed and crawled between us, happy and content and feeling just fine about getting the rest of us sick.

After about 7 hours of The Dude puking, I had the pediatrician paged. Only problem is, I was incapacitated with my head in the toilet when he called back (I have never been so happy that I decided to clean all the toilets the day before. There is something satisfying about puking into a clean toilet at least.) Luckily, he tried again a few minutes, and his advice was to take him to the emergency room.
Only problem with that was, I couldn't really even walk by this point, and I was still home with all the kids by myself. I told myself I would just wait until JT got home, and then maybe JT could take The Dude to the emergency room, and maybe I could handle the other 2 on my own.
Then JT walked in the door. I said hello, and then promptly threw up in the trash can,
I told him that The Dude needed to go to the ER. He told me he was sick too, and we ALL needed to go to the ER. 
So we did, all 5 of us, because we have been needing some family time.
I somehow managed to stand up long enough to grab the insurance cards and some frozen milk for the baby, who was getting tired of trying to nurse when nothing was coming out.
The Dude threw up in his carseat on the way there, yelling "stop it!!" while he gagged. Aquman cried repeatedly about how thirsty he was, as if we were all personally responsible for that. I moaned a lot, because everything hurt.
When we got there, I had to kneel down to fill out the registration cards, and then someone brought me a wheelchair. Aquaman demanded over and over in a loud voice during our 45 minute waiting room wait: "why won't anyone HELP us, we need WATER! I feel like I'm dead!" The only time he quieted down was when he was throwing up some more. JT was trying to help everyone. Trying to track down water. He forgot his emesis basin during one of his voyages, and puked all over the floor. I scooted my wheelchair as far away as I could from the smell. JT dutifully took off his shirt and started cleaning it up until the triage nurses stopped him. The Dude, usually wild and energetic, was so tired and dehydrated that he fell asleep face down on an ER chair. Greystoke tried to collect more germs to pass on to us, sucking on the wheelchair and laughing hysterically at the fun we were having.
At some point, maybe after the first time I vomited blood, I started moaning "Help", because it just seemed right.
Eventually they called us back. Greystoke clapped his hands in my lap, thrilled with the wheelchair ride. The very kind nurse moved us from separate rooms into the same room, and pushed our beds together. Within 15 minutes of the Zofran push and some liquids dripping into my veins, I stopped moaning for someone to help me, though it took JT longer. His word of choice was "no!" which he interjected intermittently from his heap in the bed.

We're better, it's been 10 days now. I highly doubt we'll all ever get that sick at the same time ever again.
I still haven't had any birthday cake, and I plan to change that shortly.
I haven't stopped being tired yet, still catching up on sleep, dealing with a teething baby. But the daily anxiety is lessening, and I feel a little shocked now.
School is out. The last day of school came and went without much fanfare. Aquaman had a great class this year...a great class of kids, and a great class of parents, and I will miss the group of we used to show up 10 minutes early for pickup so the younger siblings could play, and the mothers could talk.

But this summer will be fun too. Last summer was kind of...hard...with a brand new baby, and slightly younger kids, all the days kind of ran together. We didn't hit much rhythm. Aquaman did a lot of crying. But this year, Aquaman is going to 2 summer camps, VBS, and a couple other church activities. Then there will be our family vacation and our competition trip.

On our off days, we have a bucket list of other fun things to do....Sebastian inlet for sure, the kids love it there. Jetty park. Bass Pro Shop, Incredible Pets, free bowling, free summer movie, maybe the Sebastian splash pad. Lots of the beach. Lots of the pool.

13 month old Greystoke is a total blast. He wants to be held....a lot. He is getting lots of teeth, so he doesn't sleep that awesome lots of nights. So I'm tired. But I've learned better than to try to night wean at this age, and so I'm getting a lot more sleep than I would be. Besides, night nursing is pretty much the most awesome birth control I have discovered.

And, regardless of all the people who ask...I don't want to try for a girl. As a matter of fact, there was maybe a little piece of me that hoped when I was pregnant that Greystoke would be a girl, but since the moment I saw him on the ultrasound, I knew I wanted...Greystoke. And not a little girl. And now the weird thing is, I think I'd be more likely to have another child if I was guaranteed another boy. It just seems easier somehow.

But 6 people vomiting in the ER? I think that's a little over my head. "3 is an odd number for everything but children" the mother of one of my patients told me once. That has stuck in my head, and it's always rung true for me.
 My meditating on the word of God hasn't been going as well these past 2 weeks. I've been so tired. I've been staying in bed longer than I should. The little voices, and the mountains of housework have been pulling me harder than I'd like them to be.

But this week, the words in my heart have been from Psalm 84.
"Blessed are those whose strength is in You, who have set their hearts on pilgramage."
 I don't glory in my strength, I never have, because I don't have much. Inner strength or physical strength. I am small. I am weak and sensitive and vulnerable.
I'm disorganized and a lot of times I feel inadequate as a mother.
I throw up a lot. I end up in a wheelchair calling for help.

 But I have set my heart on walking after Him. One foot in front of the other.
 "As they pass through the valley of Baca, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength until each appears before Zion....

For the Lord God is a sun and a shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor; no good thing does He withhold from those whose walk is blameless."

He shot life giving fluids right into our arms last week, and this week, He has drenched our thirsty ground with rain and sloppiest of puddles, and the jolliest of puddle walks.
He's been my sun and my shield.
I don't feel blameless. Not by a long shot. My rows and rows of failures line up to overshadow the joy of my heart sometimes.
But when He looks at me, He looks with me in mercy.

Accepted. New. Free.

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