For the record ...

This morning was Nate's Kindergarten Orientation. He got to see his new classroom, meet his new teacher, see his new classmates. He said he liked his teacher and that the playground was right outside his classroom, but he is shy with his new friends. :) I assured him all the other kids were probably feeling shy too, but after they all got to know each other they would be good friends.

Since I had taken the whole day off work, and we had some time to kill, Nate and I went to Walmart to buy school supplies (and he was a booger the whole time we were there) and then we took them back to his school as they requested, so he got to see it less crowded.

Then the two of us went to Nashville. Nate was excited to go to Vanderbilt because there's a "model train layout" (his words) on the first floor. I told him there would be time to see the trains, but we were going there for a test. I reminded him that we wouldn't be able to eat anything (after the huge breakfast I made him) the whole day until the test was over, but I promised we could eat whatever he wanted afterwards. He complained a couple of times about being hungry, but he got over it easily (much easier than I would have! I sneaked snacks when he fell asleep!).

We checked in, and the Imaging Department receptionist gave us fish food to feed the fish. I had to go to the restroom, which gave Nate exactly two minutes to look at the trains. Then they called us back. The anesthesiologist was very nice and told Nate they were going to take him back to a room and give him "silly air" that would make him laugh. Nate looked concerned. He said, "I don't want to laugh too much!" They promised they wouldn't let him giggle too much. I was relieved when the Dr. said he was going to put in the IV after they gassed him, because Nate really hates IV's. He was not at all impressed by my story about one of Nate's previous MRI's when he stopped breathing and his lips turned blue. He said he understood why that was a big deal to me, but it happened all the time and wasn't really a big deal. Hmph. The anesthesiologist carried Nate and Seal the Sea Lion away while talking to him and really distracting him from knowing I wasn't following. I received instructions that they would call me in about an hour and a half, so I could go get something to eat in the food court, but to stay close.

While in the food court eating, I was trying to take my mind off how nervous I was by checking facebook and my message boards on my phone. On the Spina Bifida Kids board I read a post by an expectant mom who just found out a few days ago her baby girl has SB, and she's still coming to terms with everything and learning more about her daughter's specific diagnosis. She said she was afraid of how this would affect her family and if her other children would suffer.

For the record, I understand her feelings because I wondered if our family would "suffer" when I was pregnant too. And just as I was thinking about how to effectively communicate to her that her family would not suffer ... I stopped and looked around. I was sitting in a hospital food court, with my stomach in knots and a leg that couldn't stop nervously bouncing, and I had just stuffed my face with a personal pan pizza and two scoops of Ben & Jerry's with the full understanding that I was eating because I was nervous. (For the record, I have been trying very hard to not eat while nervous/afraid/sad/lonely/happy/fill in the blank, but I just was not equipped to not fall back on this bad habit today.) I was waiting on a phone call from someone telling me my son was waking up from anesthesia, and he would probably be disoriented, possibly sick, maybe hungry.

Are we suffering?

I went back downstairs and went out to the Children's Garden and realized I hadn't prayed yet. So I prayed for Nate's safety, and doctors' wisdom, and clear answers. After I went back inside, it was only a few minutes before someone said, "Payne?" and I walked as quickly as you can walk without running through the maze of hallways to get back to him. He was whining and crying a little. The anesthesiologist said he did great. We got Nate to drink a little something, and he was supremely annoyed by the IV so the nurse removed it. We asked him if he wanted some crackers or something, and he said, "I just want to get out of here!" Hehe. He did not care about dinner. He just wanted to get back to the trains.

As I was getting his clothes back on him (they make them wear the funniest little hospital gowns), I was overhearing the family one curtain over from us. The nurse was explaining what to watch for--excessive vomiting, a rash, etc.--and the mom said they knew all that because they had just had the same test the day before. And tomorrow they are going to the oncology clinic, so they'll get their test results there. The boy is on his fourth round of chemo, so they are eager to see what the tests look like now.

Nothing puts things in perspective like a trip to the children's hospital.

We stopped by the trains once more, then Nate was ready to go home. He perked up after a few miles and was back to his silly self. Some of the conversations we had:

Me: What happened after the doctor took you and Seal the Sea Lion back to that room? Did they give you a mask to wear?
Nate: Yes. Mama, I didn't like that test.
Me: I know, honey. Was I there as soon as you were waking up, or did you wake up before I got there?
Nate: You weren't there the whole time?

Nate: Mama, look at all the colors in the sky!
Me: Oh wow, what a beautiful sunset! Do you know who made the sky look like that?
Nate: God?
Me: Yes! Thank you, God, for the beautiful sky tonight!
Nate: He can hear you!
Me: Uh huh
Nate: He says you're welcome.

Me: I love you, Nate!
Nate: I love you too!
Me: What else do you love?
Nate: Hmm. Trains. And cars. And Seal the Sea Lion.
Me: Oh, good ones. And Daddy and Georgia.
Nate: Yeah, and the ocean and waves and sand.

Nate: What's that light up there?
Me: Oh, that flashing light? That is a tower, and the flashing light on top keeps planes from flying into it because it's hard to see at night.
Nate: (pause) No, I don't think that's it.
Me: Ha! Yes, that really is it.
Nate: Nope. That's not what it is.

Me: What do you think Daddy is doing right now?
Nate: Hmm. I think he's watching my new train video.
Me: Nate, I was thinking the same thing!
Nate: (lots of giggles) And now I'm thinking about toy trains!
Me: Me too!
Lots more giggles
Me: What are we thinking about now?
Nate: The Daybreak train?
Me: Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking!
More giggles

Me: You and Daddy have that in common. You both like watching toy train movies.
Nate: Yeah!
Me: What about princess movies?
Nate: Yeah, Daddy likes whatever me and Georgia likes.
Me: That's true.
Nate: It really is!
Me: That's what makes him a good daddy.
Nate: Yeah.

For the record, what I will remember most from this day is not the hour of nervousness as much as the talking and giggling on the trip home.

For the record, when I am afraid, I am not trusting God.

For the record, there are no guarantees even for a typical baby. I will take Spina Bifida over cancer any day of the week. These are the things that have affected my close family and friends that suck worse than Spina Bifida:
--Depression
--Alcoholism
--Infertility
--Fatal cancer
--Losing a spouse
--Losing a parent
--Divorce

And for the record, we are not suffering. It is my PLEASURE to take care of this sweet little boy laying next to me on the couch, clutching a new train movie and grinning up at me way past his bedtime. Blake offered to take him today, but I wanted to be the one there for him. I am honored that God entrusted me with his care. He is NEVER a burden; he is a blessing. Even when he's a stinker.

Thank you, God, for Nate. And for perspective.