Momming a Moses
What's it like Momming a Moses?
It's not boring.
Momming a kid like Moses, a cancer survivor who's allergic to almost everything has meant a lot of things.
It means knowing what it feels like to pray for green lights all the way to the hospital. On multiple occasions.
It means wondering if the birth certificate should have come with an RX for xanax. I'm kidding. Mostly.
It means finding a voice I didn't know I had.
It's a gratitude and sense of pride.
Sometimes it makes me a more empathetic person. When I see a mom hesitate to put her child in the church nursery or ask a lot of questions about summer camp. The world may label her a helicopter but I know she has her reasons. Diabetes, traumatic experiences, asthma,special needs...mama bears of the world unite!
Sometimes it makes me extremely unsympathetic. Sometimes I can't have the "normal" mom friend conversations because I struggle to relate to problems that aren't life or death. I know that's not fair and I'm working on it. Mostly.
Yesterday the "Momming a Moses" stuff got real. Too real.
A little back story- He's safely eaten coconut his whole life. It's the best dairy substitute so we use coconut milk, coconut yogurt, coconut oil, coconut butter, coconut ICE CREAM. And then out of the blue, a month ago, coconut got added accidentally to his blood test and came back highly positive. Because these tests are not infallible and he's been eating it almost daily, his allergist and I decided as a team he should continue but we'd watch him.
Friday night him and I made an ice cream run and picked up his favorite coconut cookie dough ice cream. I didn't notice any problems with the few bites he took Friday night. But he's always got a little eczema and an allergy cough is barely noticeable anymore because it's just so common.
Saturday night, awhile after a large serving, he had some itchy bumps and needed his inhaler.
Once again these things aren't uncommon for him. He'd been running around playing. But we wondered about the coconut.
Sunday night, while happily eating his favorite ice cream he started complaining of "itchies."
These "itchies" spread all over his chest, back and thighs, in huge hive welts.
Should we give the epi? I always doubt myself. I know in the past I used to have a tendency to over react which causes me to doubt my gut and worry that EVERYTHING is over reacting even when it's appropriate.
Then he ran to the bathroom with an upset stomach. And by the time I calmly told Dan he needed the epi, and the two of them sat on the couch, adrenaline in check, Mo's lips were starting to swell. For the first time we had no doubt we were doing the right thing by giving him a shot of epinephrine. And my brave boy took it like a champ.
I grabbed a jacket because I'm no rookie to this ER thing, and we left with epi number 2 ready to go if needed.
The car ride was the worst.
God gave us the perfect triage nurse, a fellow allergy-mama. When she explained to him that they were taking him to a "room with lots of machines and people coming in and out that might be scary" aka the trauma room, Moses looked at her, and basically rolled her eyes.
"Um, I had cancer. I'm not scared."
Boom. Momming a Moses.
Vitals looked good. The team was impressed with my hero husband who didn't hesitate to do the right thing. When an ambulance brought in an unresponsive man across the curtain (and Daniel looked like he was going to faint listening to the horrifying sounds) the doctor decided to get us to a normal room quickly. I kept wondering what was wrong with me that I didn't find this all incredibly disturbing. Like something in me was broken.
Four hours and several medications later, we left and Moses slept on a mattress on our floor.
Interestingly, earlier in the weekend we went to a movie theater showing of Moses the musical. Watching the scene where Jochebed releases the basket with her baby into the Nile brought back memories.
When I was pregnant with Moses I already had a lot of anxiety, having recently miscarried before that pregnancy. I wanted to name him Moses. Because God had a plan for the Moses in the Bible that neither the Pharaoh's soldiers or the waters of the Nile could erase.
In the movie's interpretation of that scene, Jochebed says, "I release him. He is yours."
And I'm reminded that Moses is not mine. God's plan for him isn't carried out because of how fierce or vigilant, or brave I am. God can work those things into me just like he worked the ability to speak and lead into an inept man named Moses. But ultimately what God needs most from me is trust. Trust that he loves Moses and he is his.
It's not boring.
Momming a kid like Moses, a cancer survivor who's allergic to almost everything has meant a lot of things.
It means knowing what it feels like to pray for green lights all the way to the hospital. On multiple occasions.
It means wondering if the birth certificate should have come with an RX for xanax. I'm kidding. Mostly.
It means having to shut out that voice that reminds you "This could be it."
It's a guilt and responsibility that not many understand. The questions like "What caused this?" and "Didn't you read the label?" The "I would never..." culture of the fellow allergy mamas that makes you guess and second guess.It means finding a voice I didn't know I had.
It's a gratitude and sense of pride.
Sometimes it makes me a more empathetic person. When I see a mom hesitate to put her child in the church nursery or ask a lot of questions about summer camp. The world may label her a helicopter but I know she has her reasons. Diabetes, traumatic experiences, asthma,special needs...mama bears of the world unite!
Sometimes it makes me extremely unsympathetic. Sometimes I can't have the "normal" mom friend conversations because I struggle to relate to problems that aren't life or death. I know that's not fair and I'm working on it. Mostly.
Yesterday the "Momming a Moses" stuff got real. Too real.
A little back story- He's safely eaten coconut his whole life. It's the best dairy substitute so we use coconut milk, coconut yogurt, coconut oil, coconut butter, coconut ICE CREAM. And then out of the blue, a month ago, coconut got added accidentally to his blood test and came back highly positive. Because these tests are not infallible and he's been eating it almost daily, his allergist and I decided as a team he should continue but we'd watch him.
Friday night him and I made an ice cream run and picked up his favorite coconut cookie dough ice cream. I didn't notice any problems with the few bites he took Friday night. But he's always got a little eczema and an allergy cough is barely noticeable anymore because it's just so common.
Saturday night, awhile after a large serving, he had some itchy bumps and needed his inhaler.
Once again these things aren't uncommon for him. He'd been running around playing. But we wondered about the coconut.
Sunday night, while happily eating his favorite ice cream he started complaining of "itchies."
These "itchies" spread all over his chest, back and thighs, in huge hive welts.
Should we give the epi? I always doubt myself. I know in the past I used to have a tendency to over react which causes me to doubt my gut and worry that EVERYTHING is over reacting even when it's appropriate.
Then he ran to the bathroom with an upset stomach. And by the time I calmly told Dan he needed the epi, and the two of them sat on the couch, adrenaline in check, Mo's lips were starting to swell. For the first time we had no doubt we were doing the right thing by giving him a shot of epinephrine. And my brave boy took it like a champ.
I grabbed a jacket because I'm no rookie to this ER thing, and we left with epi number 2 ready to go if needed.
The car ride was the worst.
God gave us the perfect triage nurse, a fellow allergy-mama. When she explained to him that they were taking him to a "room with lots of machines and people coming in and out that might be scary" aka the trauma room, Moses looked at her, and basically rolled her eyes.
"Um, I had cancer. I'm not scared."
Boom. Momming a Moses.
Vitals looked good. The team was impressed with my hero husband who didn't hesitate to do the right thing. When an ambulance brought in an unresponsive man across the curtain (and Daniel looked like he was going to faint listening to the horrifying sounds) the doctor decided to get us to a normal room quickly. I kept wondering what was wrong with me that I didn't find this all incredibly disturbing. Like something in me was broken.
Four hours and several medications later, we left and Moses slept on a mattress on our floor.
Interestingly, earlier in the weekend we went to a movie theater showing of Moses the musical. Watching the scene where Jochebed releases the basket with her baby into the Nile brought back memories.
When I was pregnant with Moses I already had a lot of anxiety, having recently miscarried before that pregnancy. I wanted to name him Moses. Because God had a plan for the Moses in the Bible that neither the Pharaoh's soldiers or the waters of the Nile could erase.
In the movie's interpretation of that scene, Jochebed says, "I release him. He is yours."
And I'm reminded that Moses is not mine. God's plan for him isn't carried out because of how fierce or vigilant, or brave I am. God can work those things into me just like he worked the ability to speak and lead into an inept man named Moses. But ultimately what God needs most from me is trust. Trust that he loves Moses and he is his.
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