five minute Friday: visit.

January 24, 2014, Michaela Evanow, 12 Comments

It’s been some time since I’ve joined in with 5 Minute Friday. Five minutes was more than a sacrifice for me in the last few weeks. But today, the prompt struck me as ordinary, and yet our recent VISIT was anything but.

Here we go, 5 minutes flat, no editing:

I like to be visited by friends and their babies, by people toting around a fresh meal and a gentle smile. I like having my home filled with the voices of others.

I don’t like seeing eight paramedics and two firefighters trek mud into my house, with their parked ambulances bleeding red lights into the neighbourhood. Dusk draws dog walkers and neighbours coming home from work, eyes peeled wide open, stopping to stare. Our house was surely the topic of dinner time conversations last night.

It was just…eyes rolling back, limper than usual, nodding off into a slumber, a forever slumber? I didn’t want to know. Slapped cheeks and whispered words, ear pressed to the phone.

I felt helpless, and yet did everything I could do before the paramedics arrived. The firemen stomped into the room. What seems to be the problem? I’ve learned my lesson and said, we’ll explain to the paramedics, but she has SMA type 1, and I know you don’t know what that is.

I ignored his garlic breath and knew he was there to help, but I was in charge, I was mama, and unfortunately, only I knew what to do.

Call Jay, get a blanket, give me the suction, hold this, turn on the iPad, show her Elmo, make her feel safe. She needs oxygen.

My hands and stomach clenched tight as I willed her to catch her breath, to come back.

And she did. By the time the infant transport paramedics arrived, she had a crooked grin on her face. Big Bird will do that. Her oxygen hovered in the low 90’s, but it was creeping upwards.

Her small room, with the creamy yellow walls and carved Indian elephants, was filled to the brim with ten adults. Everyone was watching, taking notes, checking vitals, shuffling their feet.

They smiled when I spouted off her vitals and said I didn’t want to go in to the hospital, this wasn’t reason for admittance. A seasoned parent, finally.

Suddenly I felt a little proud. I am not afraid. This fragile, broken life is what we’re living right now, and somehow, we’ve tucked it under our arms and continued walking. Always walking forward, because we can’t go back.

So we lean, hard into the Truth, rub our eyes clean and bounce back.

blurred-lights

12 Comments

  • Reply stacy g February 21, 2014 at 3:39 AM

    saying things like “you are amazing. way to go. way to stay focused. way to keep it together when you feel like you are losing it.” seem petty in spite of what you really are doing, which is keeping people alive. you are your own sort of firefighter. except I am gonna guess you usually take your shoes off at the door. 😉

  • Reply Bethany V. January 25, 2014 at 7:22 PM

    Wow! You continue to inspire me both with your words and your journey. You and Florence visit my thoughts often as she and my son are only a week or so apart in age. Thank for your continue bravery to share your days with us.

  • Reply Jolie January 24, 2014 at 9:02 PM

    Big Bird and a knowing, calm, Guided Mama….bring breath, life, joy, calm…So happy to hear of Peace moving through you.
    I was away on Monday and Tuesday with lots of time to pray. Florence and you always come to mind and fill up my heart.
    Thanks thanks thanks for writing, much love to you
    jolie

  • Reply Dawn Scott January 24, 2014 at 9:00 PM

    You are probably the best example I know of “Strength Under Adversity” and I see Jesus in you Michaela. What an ambassador for Christ you are. Once again humbled…and reminded of the One who watches over us….

  • Reply Anna January 24, 2014 at 7:02 PM

    I hold my breath everytime I see a new post. I held my breath as I read this today. I feel so connected to that sweet girl with the crooked smile because of the words her beautiful mother writes. Thank you for helping me learn not to take my breath for granted. I wish I could breathe for her.

  • Reply Janet Abele January 24, 2014 at 3:24 PM

    i have been in those minutes with you, so many times. y dear. I felt I was with you in those words. You write so lovely, never stop. Bless You, and your darling , Florence.. xoxoxox

  • Reply donnadoll@cox.net January 24, 2014 at 1:33 PM

    Having suffered fibromyalgia and it’s gradual effects on the body for twenty-five years, I so know what you mean by always looking forward. All we have is each day. Live it as if it is our last. Amen. Donna Gordon

  • Reply crochetingbeautiful January 24, 2014 at 11:35 AM

    You were always a strong mom, just needed a little coxing

  • Reply Debbie Tuit January 24, 2014 at 9:31 AM

    Love you Michaela!! Love Flo and Jay, even though we haven’t met. Your mom posted on FB and I know with in a minutes dozens were praying. Yes, You are a strong, seasoned parent. You know what to do. Good for you. I can see the smile that Flo flashed you when it was OK again. Wow! What a tough time though. Thanks for sharing lovely. God BLESS your family.

  • Reply Donna-Jean Brown January 24, 2014 at 9:05 AM

    Oh Michaela, you’re amazing. So sorry that you suffered another crisis with you precious girl.

  • Reply Rebecca January 24, 2014 at 8:51 AM

    Your words are captivating. I love your descriptions about the bleeding lights and garlic breath. It puts the reader in the moment with you. I’m sorry for all you go through, but keep leaning into Truth. Glad I visited from FMF

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