I'm not who I was.
That’s my little freedom fighter up there. On February 27th she went to school donning her red X to bring awareness to the fact that slavery still exists… in fact there are more slaves today that at any point in recorded history. Awareness alone won’t end slavery, but without awareness, slavery won’t end. I was amazed at humbled by the opportunity that my own red X afforded me to help shine a light on slavery… from acquaintances, to strangers, to clerks who noticed “Hey, you have an X on your hand” even as the color was fading days later. Many of you may be familiar with End It Movement. If you’re not, you should check it out. Slavery touches us all. It didn’t end with abolition. And I’m proud of my little fighter who’s in it to end it. We have a voice.
Grace is in being a voice.
Speaking of little fighters…
If the epitome of pitiful and adorable could be wrapped up into a single image, this might take the cake.
(Well, then there is the one with actual cake).
My little man. Poor Cheeks… he is prone to lung crud. At risk of sounding like a less-than compassionate mother, when he was wheezing I thought, “No big deal. We’ll just give him extra breathing treatments.” When he got a temp of 104 I thought, “No big deal. He’s rocked 104 plenty of times… he’s even gotten to 106+ and turned out ok. I’ll let the fever do its job below 102 or 103 but medicate him at night. When it’s higher, I’ll give him a fever reducer.” When he got a little crackle with the wheeze I thought, “Ok this could be a big deal, but I’m not worried about it. I’ll put some of my Breathe hippy oils on him for some quick relief, but we’re going to have to watch this sucker.” I’m pretty sure that I even nonchalantly told a few people with very little concern in my voice, “I bet he probably has bronchiolitis or pneumonia.” (Not that I didn’t care, I just wasn’t worried that it wouldn’t be taken care of). That’s just the kind of track record he has. But after his temperature was brought down and he still did nothing but lie around pitifully, and when he started coughing uncontrollably and the breathing treatments and hippy oils didn’t seem to make a dent in his struggles to do something as simple as breathing, I knew it was time to bring him to the pediatrician. There are some things that home remedies and treatments just can’t entirely fix. I still wasn’t worried. I assumed the doctor would diagnose him, (I assumed there would be X-rays involved because with Cheeks and lung issues, there usually are), we’d be given a treatment to follow, and we’d be well on our way.
Only that’s not exactly what happened.
Because when you go to the doctor with a kid so sick that he doesn’t even want to be held because it’s so much less effort just to lay down flat,
when his x-ray shows pneumonia behind his heart,
and when his pulse-ox reads 90 before a breathing treatment, and then reads in the high 80’s after said breathing treatment,
they send you well on your way… to the hospital.
Bless his heart, he was so pitiful and sad. Seeing him sad hurt my heart the most. But he was brave. His IV came out in his sleep the first night, so he had to be stuck again. The 2nd day, his vein quit accepting the IV. Although I didn’t exactly enjoy staying in a hospital with my son for 3 nights, I don’t think we could have asked for a better experience. (After-the-fact he has declared the hospital to be cool when talking to Sis.)
Grace is in arriving surprisingly early enough to grab a bite to eat before the appointment which ended up being so necessary to fuel me for what was to come.
Grace is in medicine, technology, and awesome doctors.
Grace is in being indescribably not worried.
Grace is in being forced to rest.
Grace is in having all wonderful nurses who adore your child… who give his stuffed puppy faux oxygen & IV and send chocolate cake to your door to cheer Cheeks up and get him to eat.
Grace is having friends and family you can depend on.
Grace is having an amazing coffee shop across the street.
Grace is in going home.
Sweet little stud. No sooner had we returned back to a semblance of normalcy when J, for the 2nd quarter in a row, began her seasonal break from school early by getting a stomach bug. Cheeks quickly caught it in an opposite form, and in his own words “spilled” all over a public restroom. He never got the fever though. J is still battling that part, but the “gross” part was relatively mild and short-lived.
Grace is your 3-year-old being dressed in a rain-coat when he “spilled” his breakfast in a public restroom.
Grace is making it out of the mini-van.
Grace is that it ends, hallelujah.
And Grace is in the grins.
Here is a condensed version of the hospital interview, and Cheeks enjoying himself to our friend’s youtube happy birthday shout out to her brother. They got us smiling for sure :-).
For equal-opportunity enjoyment and pleasure, here is THE one and only, original and non-sensical, chimp-munkified (ugh, that’s a gross sounding fake word) “Happy Hallelujah Birthday” that my kids had to watch a gazillion and a half times. Featuring my friend and yours, the unequivocally talented LICI B! She aint right, I tell you. And I mean that in the most flattering of ways. 😉