Peas, chickens, and syncopal episodes

Do you know what a syncopal episode is? I never did. But Lila had one yesterday morning. She was up and about at the charming hour of 5:30am because she couldn't breathe and needed a breathing treatment. Then she evidently decided that since it was just barely light, there was no reason to go back to sleep. So as she was playing she suddenly said she felt bad. And then she crumpled and fell. She was out cold. This having-a-sick-child thing isn't for sissies. Actually probably having a child at all isn't for sissies. Anyway, I think my heart skipped several normal beats. When I got to her though, she was breathing fast but ok. She was out for probably two or three minutes. Waking up finally, she was very groggy for a couple of hours. She's done this before. She had a run of ten or so of these back in November and December and none since. The doctors are stumped. I took her to the ER, of course. Where they checked her heart, her blood sugar, did a chest xray, did a strep test, and generally scratched their heads over her. The doctors there are really wonderful and they have been saying lately that they are probably more frustrated than I am that we can't find what's going on with her. I appreciate the sentiment, even though I am sure it's not true. I am so frustrated that we don't know, that we can't help her, that her lungs sound bad. At least she's stable, at least we're home - oh, good attitudes are so hard to reach for when your child is suffering - at least for me they are. She is doing a little better during the day, not needing treatments so often, but resting a lot. Nighttime is still rough. I'm trying to focus on gratitude and grace - especially during those moments when I want to look up to heaven and scream, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY CHILD?!?"

I found a little bit of gratitude and grace yesterday. Lila was so worn out that she again fell asleep early - around 4pm. She slept til about 8pm and then popped up and said, "it's morning time!" I didn't want her to wake up Samantha and figured she'd go back to sleep easier after an hour or two up. So we went outside. We went and sat, in the dusky light, by the fenced in chicken run and watched the big chickens all go in to get ready to roost. The little chicks were out for the first time and we watched them. They were running all around everywhere and would get scared easily by, say, a tall stem of grass, or a gentle breeze, or a cricket. Lila was giggling at their craziness. While we watched, Lila got up and walked to the garden and came back with a huge skirt full of peas. She methodically podded one, ate the peas, gave the rest of the pile to me to hold, got up and gave the shelled pod to the chickens, sat down and took her pile back. We must have repeated this thirty times. Sitting in the twilight with her, while she ate peas and laughed at chicks, I felt a deep thankfulness for moments like these. Moments where she isn't a sick kid, moments where she is just a kid, doing kid things. I am lucky and I know it, when I slow down enough to let God remind me.

In the last couple of days we have heard from friends and loved ones and I have felt positively lifted up by their thoughts and prayers. One woman, who is dear to us, and from whom Lila gets her middle name, said, "Your family is strong and your community is wide and we will get through this together." It was exactly the right thing to say, and it's true. I was touched by her words, and illuminated by the truth of them. I'm not sure I knew how wide our community was, but I'm learning, and how can I help but feel grateful?

As I was putting the girls to bed the other night, I said to them, "Do you know how many people love you both?" They didn't, and were frankly unimpressed with the question. But as they fell asleep I thought about that and began to get a good hold on that gratitude and grace I'm seeking. For now.