No. 50: You Will be a Brave Mom

A 4am ambulance ride and the conversation that changed my life

Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.” Otherwise you are boasting about your own pretentious plans, and all such boasting is evil.
James 4:13-16

//For those who don’t have access to the full post, our two month old, Enakhe, is home and safe and wonderful. Today’s post is even more vulnerable than usual and I hope it resonates with someone this morning//

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This past weekend, I was startled awake from deep sleep to hear Enakhe cough. My brain wanted to fill in the blanks the way it always does. Cough, inhale, exhale. Only, there was no inhale or exhale. I couldn’t process it. Cough…inhale…exhale. Like a maze with a closed off exit, my brain kept running into the wall unable to make sense of the moment.

I picked him up in the dark and ran to turn the light on. My baby wasn’t breathing, wasn’t moving. He was staring off into the corner. Frozen.

I yelled something I don’t remember to O who had fallen asleep on the couch and ran upstairs naked in body and emotions to get his mom because that felt safe. Now, the image of her crying in our bedroom haunts me and I almost wish I could take it back.

“911, what’s your emergency?”
“is he blue?”
“don’t feed him, ma’am, incase he chokes”
“stay calm”
“paramedics are on their way”

“…you’re doing great, mom.”