My son, Trevor, had a bit of a rough start to his life. After 36 hours of labor, he was born with high white blood cell counts. The doctors weren’t sure if it was the labor and stress of his birth, or infection. For the first 48 hours, he was strapped to tubes and received antibiotics while his unprepared parents helplessly watched.
Before he was two, we spent nights in the emergency room with respiratory issues when things like a bad cold, croup or ear infections got so bad he had a hard time breathing.
Somewhere around age eight, we finally received a diagnosis of asthma, and thankfully, developed an action plan that has made his life much better.
I may just be a little overprotective of this precious boy, our first-born and only son. I know for sure that I love him and his sister more than life.
A few weekends ago, we were at a baseball tournament, which is basically how we spend every weekend in the spring/summer. Trevor played the first of two games like every other game I’ve seen him play. In between, he came out to grab a sandwich and a drink, and then headed back to warm up for the second game. Out of nowhere, he doubled over, crying in pain. Another mom, a nurse, looked at him and pulled me aside. It’s possible it’s appendicitis, she told me.
After trying to rule out other possibilities, I helped my struggling son to the car and we headed to the ER. With a million things swirling in both of our heads, I suggested we pray while he tried to rest. Once at the hospital, Trevor was scared. Honestly, I was, too. But, somehow, I KNEW it was going to be okay. I felt a sense of peace and calm that I’ve never felt in a situation with my child before. During the hours we were there, we kept praying and reminding ourselves that Jesus was with us and He wasn’t going to leave us.
Thankfully, Trevor was just dehydrated and was back playing baseball, being a normal 11-year-old the next day.
Last week, he spent the night at a friend’s house who lives about 40 miles away from our home. Right about bed time, a fierce storm hit the area where they live. Tornado warnings were sounded, and all I could do was watch the news and wonder if they were okay. It was too late to call. As I lay in bed, I prayed. I heard a whisper in my spirit. “No one loves him more than I do, not even you.” In that moment, I felt that same peace I had felt at the hospital. Jesus had Trevor and I could sleep knowing that the creator of the universe loves my son more than I ever could. He’s never going to leave or forsake that precious boy.
Or his Mama.