My stomach totally does a flop when I even think about a serious injury.We've had our fair share of gore in the This Girl household. No broken bones, although we did get a split chin once. (In a hotel room. In a city I was unfamiliar with. THAT was fun. I think the hotel receptionist almost passed out.)
David once knocked his front teeth pretty badly and they were all a little
wiggly and bleeding. While I was cleaning him up and checking things out I
just felt ILL. I was still good about the not freaking out and about the
comforting etc. but my stomach did not handle it well, and it wasn't even an
But I think the worst thing that's happened to us didn't involve any blood at all.
It was two years ago. Two of my brothers were visiting (why am I talking so much about my brothers lately?! Oh. Because I love them.) and we took them to a fancy shmancy hotel on the beach. We had a fancy shmancy suite that walked right out onto the pristine (fancy shmancy) sand.
On our last day there, Ouro Branco (then a wee little one) woke up at about 6ish to nurse. In my half-awake state, I noticed that Little Prince wasn't in his bed. I nudged My Man and asked him to check if LP was sleeping with my brothers.
I must have drifted back to sleep with OB in my arms when My Man returned and began putting on his shoes.
"LP isn't here, Becky."
"Mwa ... huh?"
"He's not here, Becky. The front door is open. Wake up."
The next few minutes were a blur. I plopped OB unceremoniously into the crib and threw on a shirt. (Backwards, I later found.) We ran out the door, calling LP's name franctically. I was vaguely aware that my brothers were right behind us.
Everyone at the hotel was still asleep. I burst into the barely-opened hotel kitchen, shaking violently and trying my best to describe LP amidst my stutters.
And a mile in each direction was the ocean. Waves crashing upon waves, a deep, unforgiving blue.
My brothers were racing down the sand, their voices no longer discernible. My Man was searching the hotel pools, the jacuzzi, the kid's play room.
And I collapsed into a soggy heap of despair.
My glasses wouldn't stay on, my tears were so violent. Visions of my firstborn son being dragged out to sea filled my head. He was never afraid of the water.
The search went on. And on. And on. The clock neared seven.
And I prayed.
I only said five words. Dear Lord, not my son. Dear Lord, not my son ....
We are told not to give ourselves over to vain repetitions in our prayers. And though I was repeating myself, there was nothing vain about it. I have never prayed so fervently in my life.
And just when I closed my simple, heartfelt prayer, I heard a cry. Coming from our hotel room.
My Man and I raced back in time to see a little head crawl out from under the bed. Where he had, apparently, slept through this whole scandal.
Ether 12:27 My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me;
for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make
weak things become strong unto them.
I was one strong lady that day. And I will be again, each and every time my kids need me.