five minute Friday: visit.
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.