(This story is not about my life.) Imagine your life is humming along. You are in your thirties and have 3 kiddos and a good life. Then a few short years later you find out one of your kiddos has a rare form of cancer. You go through the struggle and pain of helping him. Next your husband leaves and divorces you. You can't seem to catch a break but then a wonderful organization surprises you with a getaway to a cabin in a beautiful resort town. Your elderly father joins you and your 3 kiddos and you arrive on Christmas Eve to a gorgeous cabin. Your cancer surviving boy has been feeling sick, but a conversation with the doctor ends with instructions to keep an eye on him and if he doesn't improve by morning to take him to an ER to get checked out. You spend a wonderful Christmas eve together and then head to bed. You decide to let your sick child sleep in your bed so you can keep an eye on him.
About 5:30am your oldest child comes in to wake you so they can open Christmas presents when you notice your sick child feel cold and is not responding. He is not breathing. You panic and call 911. EMTs are awoken by the page out for a juvenile boy unconscious and not breathing. They rush to the rental cabin to find there is nothing that can be done. It is obvious he passed away earlier in the night.
This was my ambulance call this Christmas morning. The scene was 100 yards from my home. This is every parents literal worst nightmare. Just a few weeks ago I was worried about my child's breathing and tried to decide if I should take him to the ER or not. I chose to stay in his room and woke every few hours to check his breathing but I was constantly worried he'd stopped breathing and I'd be asleep, but everything ended up okay and he got better.
I left the scene and got home as my children were waking. I painted on a good face and tried not to feel terribly guilty enjoying the squeals of excitement coming from my kiddos as they opened Christmas presents, while 100 yards away a single mother was sitting in utter disbelief talking to the medical examiner about her sons passing.
Words can't really express all the thoughts and feelings. After our kids were done unwrapping gifts I went and laid on my bed. Eventually I decided to walk back over to the house to see if I could help them pack up as I knew they decided to head home. Luckily the property managers came and they all the help they needed so I went home still feeling terrible.
This past Spring, with the encouragement from some wise people, I decided to seek out a counselor/therapist to talk to about some of the PTSD from being a emergency responder. I am not sure where my head would be right now if I had not received the help I've received this year and been taught some tools to deal with medical calls like this. While I am still in a lot of pain and my heart breaks for this family and honestly I am grieving the passing of this child, it is also accompanied with a hope for healing. I don't believe that hope of healing would be there without the counseling I have received.
The two most important beliefs my counselor helped me learn are:
- I can hold myself appropriately responsible.
- I may not be 'enough', but WE (Christ and me together) ARE ENOUGH. He literally fills all my gaps.
