how we deal

August 4, 2014 heart defect, Kam, Urogenital System 7 Comments

I’m not gonna lie. My world has been spinning for a few months. And I try my best during the last week of each month to settle on a topic to write about here at NHBO. But y’all. It’s just been hard lately! I walk through a scenario with our boys and I think “BAM! I should totally do a post about this!” But in the midst of those days, I’m not able to sit and flesh it all out in words on the computer. You know what happens then, right? You betcha. Crazy Kam can’t remember a thing about what she was going to say to you all. It just leaves me.

So here I am. And really, I’ve got nothing to write about as far as parenting a SN and/or adopted child goes. Nothing. Oh, I could tell you that our sweet Gabey who was born with multiple urological defects has actually decided to align with Jesus and answer my prayers for successful potty training this week! Hallelujah! Or I could mention how I’m literally afraid of beginning second grade next week with our Joel who struggles so much with language delays and reading.

But you don’t really need any of that, do you?

I didn’t think so.

However, we did have a couple of odd things happen in our house last week that got me to thinking.

Our Sydney Baby {bio, 11 years old} was so sick with yucky stomach stuff for several days recently. And from the dining room, I heard a shatter and then a crash. I was only 20 feet from her. Sweet girl. She was walking down the steps and carrying a glass of ginger ale when the glass just shattered in her hand. She didn’t fall or stumble or hit anything. It just shattered. And our glasses have heavy bottoms with tapered, thin tops. So that big bottom began to fall as it broke and gashed her thigh. A nasty, huge, wide and long gash. Of course after it cut her, it all hit the hardwood floors and made the most horrific sound.

I jumped up to her and sweet baby was already standing frozen in a pool of blood that was rushing from her thigh and her hand where the glass broke as she held it. Broken bits, big and small were everywhere. Every. Where. She was not only surrounded by them at the bottom of our stairs but her shirt, her hands, her legs and even her hair were covered in tiny shards of glass.

And she didn’t move a muscle. No tears. No attempt to explain. She just became like a statue. But her gaze…her eyes fixed on me as if to say, “Help me. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I just need you to pick me up and move me from where I am.”

And that’s just what I did.

Then the very next day, we had some yummy cashew chicken for dinner {with fried rice, don’t ya know!} and after we walked away from the table, I went to our bedroom. A few minutes later, hubs comes in and says, “Hey, can you come talk to Joel? Something’s wrong with him and he won’t tell me.”

I go to my 7 year old on the sofa and silent tears are falling from his eyes. He doesn’t look sad. He’s scared. But he’s breathing and he answers me and we walk to the kitchen together.

“Buddy, what’s wrong? Are you okay, baby?”

“Mama, my throat hurts. It hurts so bad.”…tears falling faster now.

I go to look in his mouth. Nothing. I ask if he scratched his throat when he swallowed. Nope. I ask him to drink his water. He does. Still crying and tells me that he’s tried drinking all of his water since we stopped eating but it’s not helping. I ask for him to point to where it hurts. It’s low…far from his actual throat but seems to be in his neck.

He’s near hysterical now. But moving air and talking and breathing fine. I realize it must be chicken or a cashew that hasn’t gone down. I know he’s not choking but it’s scaring him to death to feel it. He’s not about to lose consciousness or anything. It’s just really uncomfortable for him. So I give him a cracker since it’s so low and another drink of water.

A beautiful, eyes lit up like the sun, smile comes across his face.

And then more tears and a hug and a big, “thank you, mama.”

Sweet boy. He evidently kept trying to fix it on his own. He kept drinking that water and nothing changed. He didn’t want to tell his dad because it scared him so much to think he was choking. He didn’t want to admit it because to admit it would mean it was real.

So here’s what I know…

Every one of us is different. All of us handle hardship or fear or stress or pain in a million different ways. Some of us freeze like Syd and just wait to be picked up and planted somewhere safer. Some of us try like Joel to handle it all ourselves because admitting it would be too hard or scary.

But what we all have in common is that we can’t do it alone. At the very least, we shouldn’t have to attempt it all alone. And I could be wrong, but I’m guessing that some of you are waiting for a referral or for your child to come home and you’re frozen or your child has come home and days are long and hard and you keep asking yourself “what have we done?” You need somebody to pick you up and plant you somewhere safer. Or you need someone to look over and notice that you are in trouble and that you aren’t sure how to fix it yourself.

Adoption is never easy. And life is never meant to be lived alone. We need each other. We desperately need each other.

So however you are wired, however you deal with the stress and the “hard”…don’t go it alone. Let us know you need something. And for those of us in a pretty good place right now, let’s keep our eyes open for those who aren’t. Let’s be the one to pick them up to safety or to give them a cracker! We’re all in this together, right? 🙂

Much love and many prayers for you all.

7 responses to “how we deal”

  1. Amy Sprengel says:

    Oh my yes. Yes we do need each other. We need to lean on each other in the truest, hardest, most challenging moments and admit: Me too. Thank you for this!

  2. jennifer barnett says:

    Kam, you and I could be friends. 🙂 On the same page it seems in the needing each other!

  3. Karrie Davis says:

    I loved this. Thank you Kam.

  4. Rebecca says:

    Yes, love these two analogies. Good stuff. And the potty training!!? Go, girl.

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