Tough days.

Last Friday night, Eric and I took Levi to the Emergency Room because he was wheezing and had labored breathing. They treated him with a breathing treatment, x-rayed his lungs, prescribed him steroids, and sent us home. Within 24 hours, we were back at the ER with a very sick baby boy. Levi was having even more trouble breathing, and he was admitted to the hospital.

Throughout the whole ordeal, my boy was a trooper. Despite being poked and prodded, he smiled at every nurse, doctor, and respiratory therapist who entered our room. His high spirits were the only thing that seemed to keep me going. I know that our ordeal was brief (only 2 days), but it was hard. (I slept a total of 6 hours, during a 72 hour stretch!) I've never liked the hospital (who does?), but I never imagined how much more miserable seeing my child as a patient could make it.

I watched my baby struggle to breathe. I watched people poke needles into his tender skin. I watched him fight his own exhaustion in an unfamiliar environment. I watched his oxygen levels drop too low, and watched a nurse hurry to fix them. I watched his oxygen monitor while he slept, begging it not to fall below 92%.

I sat in an uncomfortable chair, 2 days before Christmas, and held my boy. With cords tangled in my lap, a too-big gown falling off of his body in the chilly room, and alarms on his monitors beeping, I cried and I prayed. Around the clock, people entered our room to administer breathing treatments, inject medicine into his IV, and check his lungs. We were both exhausted. But, he smiled. Through it all, he smiled at me, and I knew that he would be okay. I knew that the resuscitation instructions taped next to his bed wouldn't be necessary, and I knew that we would go home soon.

Sitting in that hospital room, my priorities changed. Christmas preparations that had been on my to-do lists for weeks suddenly didn't matter. All I wanted was for my baby to be well, and for us to go home to be with family. (Nate wasn't allowed in the pediatric unit, and we didn't see each other at all during Levi's hospital stay--the longest time that we've ever been apart.) I realized that our family Christmas doesn't need anything but family.

Thankfully, Levi improved quickly, and we were able to come home on Christmas Eve. I felt peace, and I know that it came from the many prayers that were lifted on our behalf. When we got home, I didn't have any Christmas cookies made, our presents weren't all wrapped, the house wasn't "ready", we were missing my favorite church service, and I was more than exhausted. But, it was okay. I felt at peace, and knew that our Christmas would be wonderful simply because we were together.

And, not only was it wonderful, it was overwhelmingly perfect! We were shown so much love by so many family members--someone brought us Christmas Eve dinner, someone else brought us dozens of cookies, and more than one someone offered to host Christmas for us and do anything else that we needed. As it turned out, we went ahead and hosted Christmas (much to my unprepared OCD-personality's chagrin!). Our family came, and it was perfect. I didn't feel stressed or worried; I felt comfortable, peaceful and loved. My babies were with me, my family surrounded me, and our prayers were answered. Merry 1st Christmas, Little Levi!