I have to say what I didn't expect is that this would be one of the most nerve racking things I've ever been through. And after Colin and I witnessed them hooking up an IV and knocking Jude out instantly with that magical white fluid, we waited impatiently, wandering the halls, fidgeting in our chairs, leafing mindlessly through magazines, etc.. I found myself staring at the luminary bags they had placed in the waiting room - bags that one could buy for $5 in memory or honor of someone. Bags that said things like "Karen, who fought hard" or "Jaime, a survivor". And while waiting the two hours to get Jude back, praying that he wouldn't be allergic to anesthesia, I realized that having children is like having pieces of yourself constantly outside your body. But the weird thing is, it's more than pieces of yourself, because you care so much more about them than about yourself. You would take that IV poke, that sedation, that blood draw, in an instant for them. You would take away every moment of pain, so they wouldn't have to go through that. I also realized my intense protective instinct I have for my children. And my intense love. And finally I realized, as I held my sweet boy, that this is how God feel about us - protective, loving, would lay down His life. Really, everyone should have these waiting room moments =).
Of course I took pictures (Jude loves looking at pictures of himself).
Here we are waiting for the numbing cream to take effect (so the IV stick wouldn't be felt):




Yes, we survived yesterday and Jude did great. I just hope we don't have to go up there again for a long time.
5 comments:
You are such a brave big boy Jude and we are very proud of you.
Love you lots,
Grandma S.
beautiful, kami. praying for happy results :)
You have such a beautiful soul, Kami. I'm proud to have such a amazing friend-- what a wonderful mother you are ;) Thank you for the sweet entry. So glad Ju-Ju did well!
Hey Kami,
Praying for clean results! God job little Jude - what a trooper.
Kami,
So sorry your family is having to go through all this. I'm praying for clear scans. I know it's so painful, so nerve-wracking. We were up on the hill last month with Taylor, anticipating some invasive procedures that (thankfully) weren't deemed necessary. I'd love to email and catch up with you, and possibly get together at Children's Museum or somewhere sometime this summer, but can't get our emails to work. Our old e-address still works, so if you get a chance sometime, drop me a line and we'll catch up.
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