Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Day To Remember For Two Reasons...
March 5 is already a day of memories for me. It is the day, in 2005, when I lost the baby I was carrying. Though we are not 100% sure about baby's gender, I always felt she was a girl. So... I refer to her as Bethany Hope (aka Baby Hope). She would have been 5 this coming August, but God chose to take her Home to be with Him before I could officially meet her. I was about four months along... She was as long as my pinky...
I have mentioned before how I feel like a part of our family is missing. That has not changed. I think about my sweet child often. I have to continue living, but... I remember.
Every year I think of this particular day MONTHS in advance, knowing it is coming. It reminds me of VERY hard times. Times I am not at liberty to divulge in detail, but I assure you... It was difficult to an extreme.
I am grateful for my dear unknown child. She reminds me every day about what really matters in this life. To live a life pleasing and dependent on God, to trust in and surrender to Him, to grow in Him, to live for Him... so that, someday, I can see Jesus, AND I can see my sweet Hope. I have found comfort in knowing that she is in good company. My grandmother, my hubby's grandparents, and so many others are just basking in the presence of our loving Father. There are so many thoughts on that, but I would rather direct you to a verse that made my eyes twinkle with delight and my heart swell with anticipation...
John 8:56, "Your father Abraham rejoiced to see MY day, and he saw it and was glad."
It brought hope to my heart to know that Abraham was blessed as he entered Heaven. Makes me want to go to.
On a very different note... I have a Luca Update...
Let me start with a BIG SIGH...
Friday night (today is Sunday) everyone went to church except me and the kids. For a few moments I slipped upstairs to do something before reading to the kids and then sending them off to bed. Suddenly I heard the obvious and dreaded "freaking out" scream, the kind that lets you know that, indeed, something is terribly wrong, and something is definitely not right.
I reached the top of the stairs and approached just as Luca was hobbling to the last step, with a very shocked and distressed look in his face and "It hurts! It hurts!" streaming from his mouth. WHAT!!!???
Then I saw it... A pencel bobbing up and down pierced INTO HIS KNEE!!!
I bounded frantically down the stairs, set him on the bottom stair, rushed in to where the other kids were and just grasped for understanding to what happened. All the while, Luca was screaming in pain, and I was very conscious that bedtime had approached and if I did not get the others to bed immediately, my attention to Luca would be very frustrated and full of sporadic orders to too many other little people.
Apparently, he had jumped onto the sofa knees first, and landed on a pencil that someone had left there after a time of drawing... (I kept telling them to make sure they were all picked up!! Now they know why!)
My mind was racing to so many things... bedtime, meds that had to be given out, bottles, diapers that needed to be changed, and a myriad of other details that make up the evening routine. I felt rushed, bizzarly unable to focus, and a little nauseated at the idea of having to take out the protruding pencil. I attempted several times only to have my stomach turn over. Impalement is very different to broken bones, vomitting, sprained ankles, shots, arms being crushed in bread makers, concusions, etc...
Having seen enough Maury Povich episodes to know that impaled objects should be dealt with by medical personel, I panicked knowing that I had noone to call. I do not drive yet here in Italy (my license did not transfer over from the States, and I was always pregnant or nursing so could not put my efforts into the schooling and studying needed to attain it... that is soon to change by the way...), and noone had their cell phones on or with them during the church service. (I am glad it is that way, but in that moment it was VERY inconvenient.)
I came up with a plan of sorts. I called a neighbor whose father was a doctor before he died many years ago. They rushed over just hearing that "Luca is hurt, and I need help." I was shaking and stunned that it was all real. Five minutes later they arrived.
Renato and Benedetta are their names. And they are very faithful friends. What a relief to have had someone there to help me. I really felt overwhelmed.
So, things proceeded this way more or less: Luca was still sitting on the step, crying. They went over to see him. Renato leaned down and observed his thick sweatpants wedged between the pencil and the skin. He looked, acted like he was ready to say something, and before I realized what he is doing, He pulled out the pencil. Oh, the courage I did not have. sigh...
Luca was still crying, but relieved to have the pencil out and relieved to see friendly faces. I can normally keep my composure well enough to do what I need to do. That is why I was so surprised at myself during this dramatic crisis. I did not handle the bobbing pencil image well. I rarely feel nauseated by wounds, but this time... Ugh.
Renato, sweet man that he is, helped me to evaluate Luca's knee. We determined that the pencil did not hit anything critical. Bleeding was minimal, and after cleaning it up and letting him calm down, he could bend it then walk just fine.
The offending pencil was a blunt one, which only added to my son's pain, but if it has been sharp, there would have been a GREATER chance of a piece breaking off and remaining inside, which would have caused more pain in an effort to remove it. So, everything worked out.
So, over these days, I have been scrounging the kitchen and living room of every possible trace of pencil or pen, and trying to make sure that the kids helped to keep them in the designated coloring area, the kitchen table. It has been quite a challenge, as Dario is very quick.
I am so glad it went as well as it did. It certainly crossed my mind how this situation could have been so much worse, but, Thank God, it wasn't. I am a little more nervous about things since that day, but... I know that God is also a faithful Lord. He kept my son safe, and He helped me to think clearly enough to do what I needed to do. I am gratful...
P.S. If you are interested in reading other posts concerning the baby we lost, click on my label called "Bethany Hope moment".
God bless you!