Pierce caught croup last week. It’s an upper respiratory infection that makes breathing difficult. For both the child and the momma. I felt my own breath caught more than once. Particularly the night he woke up seizing. This was his fourth febrile seizure in the past year. I’m familiar with the awful things. But a seizure means high temps, and I was told high temps with croup meant head to the ER. And so I called 911 mid seizure, my head in such a blur I could barely communicate. At one point the paramedic asked if I was the mom, due to my inability to answer his questions.
As I quickly threw a few things into my diaper I bag, I cried aloud, “God, I can’t take this anymore.”
They say when it rains it pours, but it had been flooding us the past weeks. And my overly shaken body felt like it had just reached its end. I wanted to scoop my little family up and take us far, far away from all of life.
But instead I took us to the hospital. And my baby, who now tells me “I not a baby! I a big boy!” fell into a deep sleep in my arms. And his fever dropped until it was fully gone, his little lungs finally finding their relief. And I fully knew in that moment that no matter what comes our way I can take it. Because I am a mom. And there is something that motherhood does to you. This crazy, indescribable way it takes your worn out self and gives it just enough energy to go on.
Pierce is back to his old, mischievous self once more. He is currently running laps around the living room floor in the nude. And I love each and every thing about his peanut butter covered self. And something about that love for him, for his sister, it gives me that strength to embrace each day.
These past few months have been so busy, so full. But they have taught me more than ever before that there is really nothing I want more than to just be their mom. To be fully present with them. To experience each day by their side.
They scare the heck out of me somedays, but they are the never ending smile of my life.