To say I was terrified for my little gal who had her first fever would be a complete understatement.
Days after returning home from the stark little hospital room, my eyes are still bloodshot from the tears and worry that overwhelmed me as her momma.
Knowing her temperature reached dangerous levels was scary.
My heart broke as they pricked and prodded her little fingers and toes.
As they swabbed her throat, checked her ears and monitored oxygen levels with equipment three times larger than her little body.
We watched from afar as techs brought in heavy machines to take chest x-rays, held her little hands while nurses collected blood work.
And we waited.
We waited a long wait.
Every minute felt like an eternity.
My mind raced.
"What if they find something on the chest x-ray?"
"What if her blood counts are off?"
"What if there's something more serious going on?"
The worry literally consumed me.
Family members -- including both of our daughters' birth families -- prayed hard.
Hours later when the doctor returned with test results, I felt like I could breathe again.
Not only had her fever dropped to 102, the doctor told us her body was likely fighting a virus that's been going around, and that it had to "run its course."
"Everything came back clear," she said as she stroked Olivia's warm, weak hand.
The news was a weight off of our shoulders.
|Reason #450987 we love having an open adoption: Extra prayers when you need 'em.|
Who receive a more serious diagnosis.
Who -- instead of going home -- are transferred to an oncology floor or a specialist to determine a long-term treatment plan.
To those parents:
My heart goes out to you.
I cannot imagine the fear and worry that consume you.
And I'm praying for your strength.
To those of you who know parents of medically fragile children:
Make time today to call them.
Drop off a meal.
Send a note of encouragement.
Pray for them.
Offer childcare for their other children.
We need one another.