Sunday, July 19th, wasn’t only another birthday for me. It also marked a year to the day that I nearly lost my youngest son, and when I say nearly, I mean, “We’re doing our best to keep your son alive until life flight gets here” type of nearly.
There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about it at least once a day, sometimes more. All my years of working the Sheriff Department and Fire Department and the training I had on how to be professional and clear-headed definitely came into play. It helped me considerably during the days following that one life-changing day for me. I pride myself on how level headed, calm and precise I at in times of crisis, but when it comes to my kids? Not so much.
It’s at those times that I find myself relying more and more on simple faith. Faith that my son’s breathing will not worsen; faith that I won’t get a phone call from his school saying he’s being rushed to the hospital; faith that he has not unknowingly ingested something containing any milk-substance that can kill him. I’m learning to have faith in his doctors and the fact that maybe, just maybe, they do know a little more than I do.
My birthday was good this year because I had my family with me and my son is okay. I thought because it was my birthday that that would overshadow what had happened last year, but instead it was right there for me, all the memories of that horrible day. That was okay though because I celebrated another year of my son’s life and truly, that’s the best birthday present of all.
Now? Now I’ll have to have faith that my son is going to have another year of good health; I’ll continue to have faith in my friends who keep me grounded when I start to over-worry a situation (and I do that often) and more importantly, I’ll have faith in myself as long as those who know and love me continue to have faith in me.
Sometimes, a little faith is all we need.