Hubby and I are at home. Baby girl, P, is at college. There is ice all over the roads here. She has 3 inches of snow. And a kidney stone.
It is 10:01 p.m.
Helpless. We feel helpless.
I know she is where she is supposed to be. I know God has a plan for her life and I know she is following that path. That is why she is 412 miles away from us. I have written before (Laundry for two…part two) about knowing she is where she should be. But that doesn’t make this situation any easier!
Our family is plagued with kidney stones. Hubby and I have them, his brother, both of our fathers, and our oldest, J, has them. Our middle one, G, hasn’t, and I hope he never does, but the odds are not in his favor at this point.
So the idea that P is in an emergency room getting fluids and meds and we are sitting at home waiting for her friends to text us with updates is excruciating. Not as excruciating as her pain is, I am sure, but it is bad. I am so very thankful for her amazing friends J and K who trudged out of the warmth of their apartment to take her to the ER. Words cannot begin to tell them how much I appreciate them!
But for now, we wait.
It is now 1 a.m. The diagnosis is in. It is, in fact, a kidney stone. They have given her fluids, IV meds, and sent her back to school, prescription in hand.
The text messages that follow:
Me: Do you want us to come up there? We will. Just say the word.
P: No, really I’m fine. I have an army of people to take care of me and it should pass in 24 hours plus the roads aren’t great for y’all.
Hubby: I will find a way to get there if I need to come. Love you.
She’s a trooper. Handling it well. Her dad and I, however, not so much.
There was a call 2 years ago from G about an accident with an axe and his leg (long story, maybe another post), but he was only 45 minutes away. That was an incredibly long, hard 45-minute drive. Sitting here praying that she is OK is even harder.
I have faith. I know in my heart and in my head that God will provide. I have seen it numerous times before. But that doesn’t make it easier to be 412 miles away when she’s sick and when I need her to need me.
Because no matter how old they are, they are still my babies. And when they are sick I need to comfort them, I need to hold them, and I need them to know how much I love them. Basically, I need them to know I love them so much more than they could ever imagine. And even if I can’t take away their pain with my hugs, I have an insatiable need to try.