It started out simply, at Ryan's two week checkup, when the doctor noticed a funny smell when she was checking his umbilical cord, which had mostly come off by then. She told me to keep my eye on it, and if I noticed a red ring around the belly button, to call her right away.
A couple of days later, Ryan was really fussy. I couldn't get him to stop crying, and I didn't know what to do. I did notice some reddening around his belly button, but it seemed so slight, I wasn't sure if that's what she meant. So, I held off a little longer, no wanting to be go in and have them tell me it was nothing. If only I could do that over again.
A few hours later, Ryan was really struggling. He was miserable, and I was beside myself. I finally decided I would take him in, but I had another problem. We had only one car, and with Rick traveling from Salt Lake City to Ogden each day (work to school), he had to take it. Somehow I needed to find someone to take us to the doctor's office. My mom lived hours away, and most of my friends were working. My dad was in town on business, but he didn't have a vehicle that would fit Ryan's carseat. We were in a married student ward, but we lived in Centerville, and most of the other members lived in University Housing in Salt Lake City. Finally, I called my friend Angie, who worked at least an hour away. I knew that it would be hard for her to leave her busy job, but I also knew that if she could possibly help me, she would. Sure enough, she was able to come and pick me up, then take me into Salt Lake to the doctor's office. One look at the belly button, and the doctor sent us straight to Primary Children's Hospital.
He was admitted into ICU (even though he was so tiny, he couldn't go into the NICU, because he had already been released from the hospital), and immediately there was a flurry of people--doctors asking me questions, and nurses hooking him up to a million different tubes. I could barely keep my composure, and I was fighting back the tears. I had no way to get in touch with Rick, but I was so grateful that Angie was there with me. She finally had to leave, and I was alone. I was scared, but I knew that they were doing everything that could be done. I felt so young--I was young--with only a two week old baby in a big hospital with no one else around. Up until that point in my life I had never prayed so hard. I knew he was sick, but I didn't realize how serious it was until a doctor (and a friend that was in our ward) told me that if I hadn't taken him in when I had, that it could have been a very different story.
During our stay in ICU, I was able to meet and talk with other patients' families. To the left of Ryan's bed, there was a boy around 10 or 11 years old. As I started conversing with his mother, their story unfolded, and it's one that I have never forgotten. Her son had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and he was basically living out the rest of his days there in the hospital. She was from Idaho, but Primary Children's served a large area, and his illness required him to be there. So, her husband was back in Idaho working, and taking care of the rest of the kids, while she stayed there with her son. They would come on the weekends that they could afford it, but the cost of these continued trips, and of her living there all week was staggering for them. In addition, her other two living children had been diagnosed with the same illness, and would most likely not live past their teens.
At that moment, something changed in me. Her story has truly never left me, and touched me in a way that I struggle to fully explain. Still, when I'm in the midst of trials and hardship, or even when I'm having a difficult day with my kids, I remember that strong, faithful mother, and her strength and courage. It doesn't lessen my struggles, or minimize my feelings , but recalling this experience always incurs immense feelings of gratitude--knowing that there are always so many things I have to be grateful for--and buoys me up, giving me the strength to keep going.
That sweet mother taught me an incredible lesson that day, with her patience and gentleness, and ultimately her faith and gratitude. This Thanksgiving season I am overwhelmed with all the good things in my life. I am indeed blessed.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you--have a wonderful day!
A couple of days later, Ryan was really fussy. I couldn't get him to stop crying, and I didn't know what to do. I did notice some reddening around his belly button, but it seemed so slight, I wasn't sure if that's what she meant. So, I held off a little longer, no wanting to be go in and have them tell me it was nothing. If only I could do that over again.
A few hours later, Ryan was really struggling. He was miserable, and I was beside myself. I finally decided I would take him in, but I had another problem. We had only one car, and with Rick traveling from Salt Lake City to Ogden each day (work to school), he had to take it. Somehow I needed to find someone to take us to the doctor's office. My mom lived hours away, and most of my friends were working. My dad was in town on business, but he didn't have a vehicle that would fit Ryan's carseat. We were in a married student ward, but we lived in Centerville, and most of the other members lived in University Housing in Salt Lake City. Finally, I called my friend Angie, who worked at least an hour away. I knew that it would be hard for her to leave her busy job, but I also knew that if she could possibly help me, she would. Sure enough, she was able to come and pick me up, then take me into Salt Lake to the doctor's office. One look at the belly button, and the doctor sent us straight to Primary Children's Hospital.
He was admitted into ICU (even though he was so tiny, he couldn't go into the NICU, because he had already been released from the hospital), and immediately there was a flurry of people--doctors asking me questions, and nurses hooking him up to a million different tubes. I could barely keep my composure, and I was fighting back the tears. I had no way to get in touch with Rick, but I was so grateful that Angie was there with me. She finally had to leave, and I was alone. I was scared, but I knew that they were doing everything that could be done. I felt so young--I was young--with only a two week old baby in a big hospital with no one else around. Up until that point in my life I had never prayed so hard. I knew he was sick, but I didn't realize how serious it was until a doctor (and a friend that was in our ward) told me that if I hadn't taken him in when I had, that it could have been a very different story.
During our stay in ICU, I was able to meet and talk with other patients' families. To the left of Ryan's bed, there was a boy around 10 or 11 years old. As I started conversing with his mother, their story unfolded, and it's one that I have never forgotten. Her son had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and he was basically living out the rest of his days there in the hospital. She was from Idaho, but Primary Children's served a large area, and his illness required him to be there. So, her husband was back in Idaho working, and taking care of the rest of the kids, while she stayed there with her son. They would come on the weekends that they could afford it, but the cost of these continued trips, and of her living there all week was staggering for them. In addition, her other two living children had been diagnosed with the same illness, and would most likely not live past their teens.
At that moment, something changed in me. Her story has truly never left me, and touched me in a way that I struggle to fully explain. Still, when I'm in the midst of trials and hardship, or even when I'm having a difficult day with my kids, I remember that strong, faithful mother, and her strength and courage. It doesn't lessen my struggles, or minimize my feelings , but recalling this experience always incurs immense feelings of gratitude--knowing that there are always so many things I have to be grateful for--and buoys me up, giving me the strength to keep going.
That sweet mother taught me an incredible lesson that day, with her patience and gentleness, and ultimately her faith and gratitude. This Thanksgiving season I am overwhelmed with all the good things in my life. I am indeed blessed.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you--have a wonderful day!
5 comments:
Ok, tears are flowing down my face. Love you guys and wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving!
what a special thing to think about and remember - we are all truly so grateful and are lucky to have so many beautiful blessings all around us!
I have tears, too, thinking of young you and one of your first big life lessons, right when I was meeting you and learning how much I liked & admired you already (and loved your name, apparently, huh!). Thank you for sharing that story... and I have to tell you that I thought for sure that was a pic of Henry!!!
My goodness, what an amazing story. Thank you so much for sharing. I think some times we forget how blessed we are and when we pause and think about those who are struggling with incredible challenges, it is such an amazing reminder of our need to truly give thanks in all things.
I hope you and your family had a wonderful Thanksgiving.
What a beautiful inspiring story. Thanks for sharing such a sweet moment with us all.
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