In the ER
Though I could write countless appreciations of my Mom on this Mother's Day, this picture is the basis of my thoughts. She is pictured holding our 8 week old baby in one Emergency Room awaiting the ambulance to take him to another Emergency Room at yet a third hospital. Seven of our children and I were visiting my parents before a family reunion the next week in the same town. My husband had traveled 15 hours west to take our church teens back home from Youth Congress in Tennessee. He preached all day Sunday – my 40th birthday – and intended to travel back to us toward the end of the week.
At this point, there were no answers why the baby would turn blue and struggle to breathe without immediate assistance. His oxygen level was at 70%. My mother's heart was broken along with mine. She was there. She and my Dad took turns sitting with me and the baby at the hospital until my husband was able to travel back into the middle of the night. They also switched off caring for the rest of my children who were there to spend a fun week with them. After long days and nights at the hospital, a diagnosis of pertussis, and seemingly many concerns, the baby was released. Our doctor told us the hospital had just lost a baby of the same age diagnosed with this disease just days before. With regular follow up appointments scheduled, the baby, our 2 yr. old son and I stayed at my parents' home until the baby and I were able to travel. My husband took the other seven children home, and our oldest daughter helped manage the household until our return about 3 weeks later.
While at their house, I would lie down in the same room as the baby and would have to listen closely to every cough to insure his breathing continued. After so many nights without sleep, your mind and body become deficient. I literally felt the spiritual warfare, and cried to God for help. As a little girl, if I awoke to a bad dream, I would go to my parent's room to feel safe. Now, as a grown woman blessed with children of my own, I still found peace when I went into my parent's room one of those nights. My mom reassured me that God was going to get me through this. She has prayed for me and always referred me to the God of hope. She practically helped me during that time by making me eat and preparing good meals for me. At times, I did not feel I could function normally. My trial was not known to many and surely would not be compared to the depth of trial others have faced, but I know how real and how deep it was to me. How many are we passing by that are truly struggling or hurting deeply? The Lord did help me through the dark valley personally, and He graciously restored health to our sweet baby boy who is now two.
Distance and finances prevent me from actually seeing my mom this Mother's Day, but I do see her as I always have – a woman with great faith in God who uses her gift of serving wherever she is, a devoted wife to my sweet Dad for nearly 44 years, and a praying mother.
I love you, Mom! Thank you for all you teach me with your life. ~Jeri Lynn
"I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, Always in every prayer of mine for you all making request with joy, For your fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now; Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ: Even as it is meet for me to think this of you all, because I have you in my heart…" ~Philippians 1:3-7a
Saying goodbye after the baby was cleared to travel home.