Sam: 50 Months

Dear Sam Sam,

Wow. This was quite a month. One night you were playing with friends, running around, laughing and having a great time. At bedtime, you started acting sick. You were worn out and I thought you might be coming down with a fever. I made a mental note to check on you before going to bed. Around midnight, I was nursing Evan when I remembered to check in. As soon as I entered your room, I could hear you breathing. Panting, heaving, wheezing. I placed my hand on your chest and your little heart was beating so, so fast. Plus, it felt like your chest was caving in with each breath, your ribs sucking in. I immediately grabbed your dad, who shared my grave concerns. While I called the pediatrician, Daddy got dressed. He rushed you to the ER, where the docs immediately started working on you, afraid that either your little heart would give out or they'd have to give you a tracheotomy. But PRAISE GOD you responded to the meds. The docs got things under control but wanted you transferred to Children's ICU for more careful monitoring.

After 3 long days, you were finally released. Our poor, sweet boy. You were such an amazing little patient. Every doctor, nurse, MA, etc. commented on your sweet, gentle, agreeable personality. You said "thank you" when the respiratory therapist gave you treatments. You climbed your hospital bed when the steroids started making you stir crazy. You took long naps in my arms. 

It was so brutal being away from you. With a brand new baby at home, I couldn't bring him into the ICU. I hated to stay too long and expose myself and Evan to the yucky stuff floating around the hospital. I was still nursing around the clock and couldn't stay overnight in the hospital. My heart just broke every time I had to leave. You begged me to stay and I would reassure you with my words, but on the inside it was tearing me apart.

You made a quick and miraculous recovery. The prayers of our community and the love of your Heavenly Father covered you with healing and support. There were moments, though, sweet boy. I fought with God some of those nights. I know what it's like to stay in the hospital, to be monitored, to be so sick and so dependent. I don't want that for you. 

But I still trust in a sovereign God. I trust that he has plan and purpose for you. Like I've had to trust since your very beginning, after that first ultrasound, through your speech issues...you are my boy but you were God's child first. He loves you with an everlasting love. He knows you more deeply and loves you more intensely than even your own Mama. And I have to trust that He is in control. Because I most definitely am not.

Once home from the hospital (and off those crazy-making steroids), you resumed your usual sweet, spunky, sneaky behavior. You melt our hearts with your kind and generous spirit. You test our patience with your candy stealing and sister teasing. 

You notice things. You are a lover of detail. When coloring a patch of grass on a coloring sheet, you carefully and methodically chose three different shades of green, holding them all at once in your hand as you colored in short, fast strokes. You spent the better part of an hour coloring in your chalk outline one afternoon, selecting colors carefully and blending them with your hand. 

This past week at the beach, I loved watching you dance and sing and kick up your heels as your Daddy flew a kite in the air. You were SO excited, cheering with everything in your being. The joy was bursting out of you. It was so beautiful.

Despite "giving up" naps a few months back, you grab regular naps throughout the week in the funniest of places...the couch, the bottom stair, in timeout at the table. It's good to know you're getting the rest you need, even if it is in funny places.

You continue to be a miracle, Sam Ben Joyce. We rejoice in your good health. We praise God for delivering you from your illness. We look forward to your future. You are such a special boy.

Love,

Mama