Monday, January 23, 2012

Just Breathe

After a while, the numbers on the clock cease to hold meaning.  I mark time in two-hour increments, when it will either be Time for Treatment or Time to Check Vitals.  In between, I run my fingers through your damp hair and by sheer force of will, try to deepen your breaths, improve the quality of your air.

The definition of "parent" is an ongoing entry in the dictionary of my heart.  The latest footnote to be added is this: when you can't breathe right, neither can I.

***

The theme for Mostly Fiction Monday this week is Parents.  How ironic that I was almost unable to take part this week because I was too busy being one.  My youngest son has been in the hospital since Saturday due to a severe upper respiratory infection.  The first 24 hours saw him on oxygen around the clock and on the receiving end of Ventolin mask treatments every two hours.  He is doing much better now and I hope that I will be bringing him home tomorrow.  This is the first time I've been out of the hospital since he was admitted.  I am home for a quick shower and ten minutes of down time before I head back.  I know his daddy is just as capable of taking care of him as I am, but deep down in my heart, I somehow believe that my presence keeps him safe.  

The words above were scribbled in a notebook in the middle of the night.  They are not perfect but they are a perfect way to sum up this week's theme, so I share them.  Forgive the ramble and the lack of polish...

Stranger knew my circumstances, so has not yet posted.  I may have thrown a wrench in her plans, because she wasn't expecting this...but do catch up with her and see her past posts on our Monday game, and make sure you come back next week when life should have returned to normal.  I can't remember what the prompt is, but when I have time, I'll post it up.

Be well my friends.  I will catch up with you all when I get home - God willing it will be tomorrow morning.  XO

7 comments:

Brian Miller said...

prayer for you and your son...its scary to see our children hurt or ill...hang in there mom...

Chantel said...

When my youngest son was three, he hemorrhaged 8 days after having his adenoids out. I slept in that hospital bed with him for three days willing his blood to build back up.

Parenthood is the ultimate vulnerability....and joy, all wrapped up in the same heartbeat.

Loved this post.

Stranger said...

Perfect, painful and beautiful. Oh, my heart is with you, C. You're amazing posting the blog despite the circumstances. Good to see you! I hope to hear all is going to be ok and that you're home tomorrow.

Steve Isaak said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Steve Isaak said...

Raw, admirable, brave, especially under the circumstances. Hope the situation improves fastly.

Here's my MFM entry, tap-tap-tap (sanitarium sixteen).

Katherine Krige said...

Terror-filled hours that remind you of the fragility of life and also its importance. Glad that you ae both home safe. Much love to you all C.

G-Man said...

(((((Corrie)))))