Sick girl, sad Mom

On May 5, 2010 my Monkey girl spiked a high fever and had terrible pain and we ended up at the ER with her. Ultimately she ended up at Children's Hospital in Omaha, with pylonephritis (kidney infection). This is a kid who is normally so healthy -- the worst she ever gets is a bad cold once a year and snot nose during allergy season. She was inpatient until May 8th, and then we got to bring her home. She finished her antibiotics on the 16th and yesterday, May 21st -- she starting running a fever again and running to the bathroom constantly again. I took her to the doctor immediately, and they ran a urinalysis which showed lots of gunk, so the Doctor prescribed another round of the same antibiotic she was given upon leaving Childrens. Unfortunately it is not prescribed often, so many pharmacies don't even keep it in stock usually, and I ended up having to call 6 places before I found one that had it. To top of insult with injury, our insurance doesn't pay for it, so my bill was $320. Ouch. My girl had a fever before I left the house to get the med, so I gave her childrens tylenol and my older girl stayed with her. She was great and got her little sister to drink plenty of fluids. Exactly one hour after I had given the tylenol (and I was 35 miles away with the prescription) Big Sis called to tell me Lil Sis had a temp of 102.1 -- up 3 degrees from when I left 1 hour previously. My hubby was 10 minutes ahead of me getting home and we checked her again, fever climbing, and I called our doctor, who told us to head straight for Childrens again -- posthaste. I packed a bag (forgetting stuff, as usual) and we came up. We are inpatient again, suspected pylonephritis again, and right now she is pitifully lying in the bed, trying to watch cartoons, waiting on an ultrasound. This is so hard on a Momma's heart. I am praying that my girl will feel better soon and that the doctors and other medical personnel here will figure out what is happening, why, etc., and help her to heal completely and quickly.

The little ones

This week at work I discovered a need within myself to cherish all of the little ones -- no matter their size or where they come from. A young boy, grade 3, who has a terrible home life, always has an unbelievable growl/frown on his face. NEVER is this boy smiling. Well, one day at lunch he asked if he could help me by fishing the utensils out of the soapy bucket of water to place into carriers to run through the dishwasher. Someone else had already asked and so I told him that we really only needed one person at a time doing it and would he like to help me in the morning after he ate breakfast. He immediately agreed and I immediately forgot about it (I was in the middle of a rush of 2 grades -- 60+ kids in line to eat). The next morning rolls around and he comes in, earlier than usual, to eat. Not frowning, just ... expectant. He ate quickly, was respectful (also usually an issue) and then approached me. I thought he was wanting 2nds, but he instead said, "No, thanks, I'm here to help you". Again with the expectant look on his face. So I gave him a pair of the gloves we use and gave him several tasks he could do without it being a problem and basically kept him busy for the next 10 minutes until the bell. I thanked him and praised him for a job well done and got my heart broken when he beamed up at me and told me he'd help me "every day from now on", as though I had done something amazing to him. I knew before this that his home life was bad -- I didn't realize how his tender little heart had been broken, until I saw him bloom for those few minutes under what I think of as basic respect and consideration. The Lord is watching over us all; I beg His tender mercies for a young boy whose shattered heart needs to heal, and for my judgmental one to look beyond the outside view and welcome all in.

Babies and other incredible adventures

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (seriously -- like 2 states away from here) I had my first baby. She was a fair thing (okay, her skin glowed whitely white like mine) and had lots of dark hair. Such a beautiful baby, so tiny, so sweet. Just 6 lb 13 oz, and 18 1/2 inches. My own sweet baby, born on the 7th of Feb a number of years ago. She had such a tiny cry that she sounded like she was squeaking when she cried and once she became a slightly older baby and could have table food she would stuff her little cheeks with "something for later". Thus, her nickname, Squirrel, was born. That sweet tiny baby is now almost eye to eye with me, a newly minted teenager, but she still has an easy laugh, joyful heart, brightly happy eyes, and a tender soul. My young lady -- no longer my baby -- is a delight to behold. She fills me with awe when I contemplate her charitable kindness and selflessness -- my heart aches with the almost overwhelming love I feel for her, this tiny little miracle of mine. She makes me laugh so hard my sides hurt, on a regular basis, and I cannot imagine my life without her. I am a much better person because she is in my life. Happy 13th Birthday, my wonderful, darling, sweet, GIANT baby-of-mine.

Forever

I remember my dreams only rarely, and when I do they always pertain to what is happening at that point in my life. I dreamed about my daughter Squirrel for two years before I had her -- I even knew what she would look like at birth and through the age of two. Pat (my husband) dreamed about Monkey for years before we even married and then had her -- in fact, the day I took the pregnancy test and told him I was pregnant his response was "oh, it's Monkey*" and hugged me and then headed back out on the farm to finish up his chores.
On Sunday, February 1st, 2009, Hubby's uncle Robert Dean Maxfield, passed away. He was in his upper 70's, had congestive heart failure, among other serious health concerns. He was ready to "go home". I know that God lives, He loves us, and He has prepared a way for us to return to His presence. I believe in eternity -- in heaven and in eternal families. I had a dream that I sat by Bobby again, him holding my hand like he used to, and we were talking about this life. I recognized as I sat there (in my dream) that it was heaven, that we were together in heaven. I woke up teary-eyed, but grateful that my Heavenly Father again reminded me that families are forever.
I love you, Uncle Bobby. Thank you for being my friend and for laughing at my children's chatter and dancing, for calling me up just to tell me about your day, for being unafraid to voice your opinion. I will always be grateful for these 8 years I have known you here, and the possibilities in the heavens.
* names have been changed 'cause it just seemed right for us, for now

Following the leader

Tonight we had a Family Home Evening (FHE) lesson on the gift of the Holy Ghost -- we're looking forward to August when our youngest will turn 8 and get baptized. As we went over this lesson on the gifts that come through the Holy Ghost, I realized that although I had prepared this lesson for her, to help her knowledge grow towards baptism, I had really needed to be reminded that my Father in Heaven is listening and is trying to communicate with me. He loves me and is sending answers to my prayers, guidance, comfort when I am in need, assurance in dark moments -- and I haven't been "listening" well enough.

God loves me -- and I will follow my Leader.

Good news/bad news

Good news! The medical wish fairy visited me and I am finally on the upswing! I was pretty much sick of being sick, you know? But the bad news is that although I am feeling better(ish), I didn't get any candy or coins -- so really, what's the point? ;)

Bad news - this means I have to go back to work tomorrow and we all (okay, me) know that is not my "happy place". So be it.

Good news - I have been able to stay in my snuggly flannel pj's and fleece sweater for the last two days.

Bad news - I have to wear real clothes to work -- flannel pj's and fleece sweater will get be a big "no-no" in the work place.

Good news - my kiddos have been good as gold taking care of me and rubbing my aching back and neck.

Bad news - they are both trying not to hack up a lung now (it's probably my mother's fault - she taught me to share).

Good news - I felt well enough this morning to help my hubby get the errant run-away cows back in before he left for a work trip.

Bad news - cow poop still smells like cow poop.

Okay, clearly I am a giant chicken; I could also say the heat never EVER came down even a notch for me. Whatever, I've been called out about not posting anything. I can't decide whether to whine or to cry or to pout. Hmmm. I'll start with being grateful that although the wind is blowing upwards of 30+ miles an hour and it's snowing to beat the band the girls and I didn't have school/work today. And we know that DH will get home safely in it because we're praying for him and he always does -- he has lived here all of his life and can handle this stuff. In fact, I just thought about calling to "check" on him -- but that would only make him mad, since as he puts it "what's the big deal -- it's just snow". Okay then.
Item #2 on the list is that I have an intestinal "thing" going on -- for the last 6 weeks and the antibiotic is making me ill. Nice, and not the point. I've got a call in to the doctor, but they aren't calling me back. Also nice.
Item #3 -- I cannot now remember what that was going to be -- so I'll pack it in and think of something humorous and/or not intestinal in nature to post next time.
Cheers!