Tears and Treasures

First, the story of this sweet child flooded across social media. Then I read about this.

And I cried.

Both stories weighing on my heart...
The enormity of having to say goodbye to your child...
Standing in the kitchen imagining the pain another mother's heart was feeling...
Bonded only by the love we have for our children...

I was standing at the kitchen counter heating up leftover spaghetti, and I just wept.
Lydia Grace asked, "Mommy, why are you crying?" I sat on the floor, put her hands in mine, and told her that mommy just loves her and Eli and Caleb so much. I embraced her and felt sweet Eli squeezing in between us to climb into my lap. I held my babies and cried. I cried for the lives of Ryan and Zoe--gone way too soon--and I cried at the mere thought of, "What if that were me?" "What if it were my children?"

How easily it could be...
My independent, strong-willed Lydia Grace has to be reminded repeatedly not to run across the street without mommy or daddy going with her. My sweet Caleb puts everything into his little mouth including his big sister's tiny toys. It could happen to anyone. You think it never will, but no one ever wants to imagine the unthinkable. That so easily could be us grieving the loss of one of our own children. It almost was me...

I wasn't sure I was ever going to share this story. This was all I could muster at the time. It was just too hard to think about what could have been but...

Before Caleb had even turned one, we came very close to losing him. I was gathering a load of laundry when I heard him. He was coughing, but something didn't sound right. Something sounded way too desperate in those coughs. I dropped the laundry and ran the short 10 feet from my bathroom to where he had been playing in his sissy's room. He met me right outside the door of her room. Crawling and coughing... He knew he was in trouble and had the amazing insight at such a tender age to get to me.

My ten-month-old was choking on something. Tim had heard him too and had already come running. I put my finger in his mouth and felt something hard and round lodged in his throat. I yelled for Tim to help me. He immediately grabbed Caleb while I ran to call for help. During the time I was on the phone, Tim yelled, "He's not breathing!" I audibly cried out, "Please, God, help my baby! Please, God, help him!" It was all I knew to do.

In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears.

Psalm 18:6

Tim was desperately trying to do something--anything! I heard nothing the emergency dispatcher was saying to me over the phone. I couldn't focus on her words. All I could think about was the fact that my child wasn't breathing and help wasn't going to be able to get here in time. I stared down at my now lifeless child as he lay on his back and memories of the CPR training I had completed as a teen came flooding back to me. I yelled, "Tim, turn him over. DON'T lay him on his back! You have to flip him over to get it out! NOW!" As I was shouting the words, I found myself in a moment of panic running out the door in my pajamas to the neighbor across the street who is a police officer. I knew we needed help immediately. The whole time I kept praying for heavenly intervention. I kept praying for God's help and for a miracle. I rang the bell...

No answer...

Oh, God, please help my child! Please help us!

Just as I was turning away from the door, Tim came running out of the house carrying a now crying baby. Thank you, Jesus! He's crying! Tim was crying too and said, "When you yelled to turn him over, I remembered what to do. I remembered, and I got it out." I grabbed my sweet baby from his arms and just held him and sobbed. Walking back inside still holding Caleb, I saw the culprit sitting in a small amount of blood and spit on the floor. I saw what had almost taken my child from me...

It was the gas tank off a heavy metal truck that a relative had given the kids. The metal cylinder had broken off while he was playing with the toy. A toy that had been in his sister's room.

When the rescue workers arrived, they examined Caleb. I almost didn't want to hand him over. I had just gotten him back from the clutches of a nightmare. My sweet baby was a bit lethargic, but checked out just fine. We showed them the broken piece from the toy. One of them joked that I'd want to keep that as a souvenir. I wanted no part of it though. It wasn't even a toy I would have ever bought my children. I blamed myself thinking that I should have taken it away long ago despite it being a gift. It just wasn't an appropriate toy, and the piece that broke off almost cost my child his life.

Life is so fragile and precious. The frailty of it is scary. Try as I might, I can't protect them from everything. I'm often guilty of "helicoptering" over my children, and I still can't always protect them. Eli falls right in front of me and skins his knees. Lydia Grace darts into the road to retrieve toys just like Ryan did the day he died. God has entrusted these sweet babies into my care and sometimes the love and the fears I have for them are all-consuming. My mom said it best when she told me that sometimes all you can do is commit them into God's care. As the years pass, I will become more and more powerless to protect them as they begin to leave the nest. All I can do is coat them in prayer.

The prayers and cries of a mother's heart are beautiful things. Sometimes my heart's cry forms visible tears. I cry because the love I have for them is so overwhelming. I cry because I can't bear the thought of ever losing them. I cry because they are such precious gifts. I cry for moments I'll never get back. I cry for the future I want with them and for them.

So there I was in the floor crying...
And thanking the Lord for them once again...
Hugging them...
Praying for God to help me protect these gifts he's given me...
Committing them to his loving care...
While I get to hold them here on earth, all I can do is love them and cherish each and every moment.

For Ryan's sake...

For Zoe's sake...

Hug your kids a little tighter. Laugh with them a little more. Cherish each moment for the gift that it is. That is what I'm going to do. I'm sure that is what those sweet, grieving parents would do if they could have their children back with them on this side of heaven.

The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.

Psalm 9:9

Much love!