Thankful.

I'm not sure how to tackle this post.

Remember when I wrote about how hard it is to be a mom and how difficult it is for me to let go of the fight to control my world and protect my girls? Well, promptly after publishing that post, those words came back to smack me in the face.

It started on the Monday night before Thanksgiving when we noticed that Poppy felt warm. By Tuesday evening she was burning up, wouldn't take Tylenol, and ended up in our room for the night. At 1:30 am, she had a febrile seizure.

This was the most terrifying thing Bry and I have experienced as parents. Her whole body went rigid and started jerking, her eyes rolled back, she stopped breathing and started to turn the most horrible shade of grey blue that you can imagine. That's when Bry called 911.

I was mostly useless during this time. I think I opened some windows, but for the most part just kept saying Poppy's name over and over, every once in a while adding in something helpful like, "She's not breathing!" Thankfully I pulled some pants on before the fireman and paramedics appeared in our room. (They were very fast!)

She came out of it alright but continued to stare blankly for about another 15 minutes, not able to hear us or respond. It was very strange to see her like that. The whole thing created some vivid mental images that keep reappearing in my head.

After that, the next couple of weeks were a blur. Poppy's fever continued to rage, and it was a constant battle of trying to force what felt like hundreds of medications down her and talk her into letting us take her temperature. She is NOT a good patient. We would watch her through the night, setting our alarm for half-hour segments, paranoid she would have another seizure. We went too many nights without enough sleep. There was a trip to the Urgent Care in there somewhere too, because of course it was Thanksgiving weekend and the pediatrician's offices were closed. Thank goodness for Bry's family, who was such a support while we were in Bluffton for the holiday, and who even came to stay overnight with us. And to my BIL, Dr. Luke S., who answered all my worried phone calls.

It turns out that Poppy had multiple infections (ear, pinkeye, and painful stomatitis blisters all around her mouth), layered on top of a really bad cold. She was a mess, and I think her little body just wasn't able to fight it all off. Cetty caught the cold and the pinkeye too. When they were finally coming out of it, Bry and I were hit with some other nasty bug, probably due to lack of sleep…and maybe stress. This led to more sleepless nights. We're still sick, but seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

So that's been life for us. Basically, torture. But I can't help feeling like there is something I'm supposed to learn in all of this. Maybe something more about control and fear and letting go so I can trust God. Maybe something about being thankful. I know that ever since Poppy's fever finally broke, I've experienced new levels of thankfulness, and just overall immediacy. I've prayed things like, "Thank you that you've given me today with my girls." Even if it would happen to be the last one.

Since then I've asked myself if I would be able to love and trust God if Poppy died (or Cetty or Bry). It is scary how unsure I am of the answer. I think that means I have some idols that need to be torn down.

I know we've all heard that every day is a gift (and so is our health!), but I'm actually sort of understanding that lately. I feel really blessed to just be able to hold my girls and kiss them and read stories with them. All I know is that I'm seeing the moment I have in front of me a little bit more clearly…and I've said "I love you" a LOT recently.