The most memorable song to me has been "Dancing in the Minefields" by Andrew Peterson. Our oldest, J, was born August 7, 2010. The night I went into labor we ordered a pizza, watched Hot Tub Time Machine (I will ALWAYS remember that movie now thanks to the events that followed) and in the midst of it all we sat at the table and talked and Josh showed me the "Dancing in the Minefields" video and I cried because even though we hadn't been married quite two years yet, I got it. Marriage is hard and marriage is great and equating that to dancing in the minefield and sailing in the storms? Brilliant! Well done, Mr. Peterson.
And then parenthood was upon us and no matter how prepared we were, we really weren't prepared at all. That's just how it goes. Not sleeping was expected. A colicky baby who wouldn't sleep anywhere but on Mama's chest and was lactose intolerant was not. And it was a hard season. The first three months felt like surviving and although it was always great it was a challenge and we were tired and we were changing and it was really, really hard. And then on a particularly hard day I just knew I was pregnant so I tested and I was! J was 5 months old. The emotions were intense. An extreme sense of thankfulness and joy because as hard as babies are, they're amazing and fun and growing our family was (and still is) incredible! BUT we had a 5 month old! He'd be 14 months when this new one was born. Is that fair? Would he be totally neglected? Was I capable of loving two babies SO much? I was fearful and guilty a lot of my pregnancy but of course as soon as that sweet baby E was placed in my arms I realized love didn't have to be divided between my sons, but my heart was just growing to give enough love to them both.
...And of course it was hard. It was like repeating the previous year. Sleepless nights. A thousand diaper changes. Baby food. Sitting up. Less sleep. Solids. Crawling. Everything in the mouth. Standing... We had literally just done it all and we did it all again and we were tired.
And parenting will never get easier. It will get harder. A thousand diaper changes are exchanged for a season in the terrible twos which is exchanged for a preschooler's independence which is exchanged for homework which is exchanged for puberty which is exchanged for the teenage years and it's over. And it's messy and it's exhausting and it's so absolutely wonderful all at the same time. And in it I am thankful to have Josh. To be partners in parenting even when it's hard. And to be partners in parenting when it's incredible good.
And in parenting we are dancing in the minefields and sailing in the storms every single day.
This last weekend we had the scare of our lives. After a week of tests and questions we think what happened is this: Josh took 3 doses of an advanced Mucinex medicine and woke up at 3:30am Sunday morning dizzy. He passed out in our bathroom which I immediately heard and reacted to and he was unconscious 3 terrifying minutes. EMSA came and hooked my pale, disoriented husband up to machines with tons of wires and declared his heart rate was in the 180s - the rate of a 70 year old man. They told us he was in AFib, gave him medicine to bring his heart rate down and I took my first ambulance ride. The medicine never took his heart to a normal rate (in fact in started elevating again in the ambulance) so at the ER I listened to the Doctor suggest they sedate him and shock him to regularize his heart which is 100% effective and not that risky, but still scary. And I watched him sign a consent to shock him and sign my name to make all the medical decisions if he could not and was asked to leave until they were finished. The 5 minutes I spent in the waiting room I let it all sink in. How I felt finding him. What it was like to say my husband's name and for him to not respond or move. How I was horrified I was losing him. How I didn't understand what happened or why or when I'd know if it was ever going to happen again.
We made it home five hours after the episode and my parents graciously took our children to their home so we could rest. We laid on the couch randomly watching music videos and "Dancing in the Minefield" by Andrew Peterson came on. And I cried and cried and cried because parenthood as a minefield made sense; it is a difficult thing, but nothing could compare to the minefield that is an emergency and the unknown and the fear of loss. In that moment I felt like I could see forever. I could see us old and grey and wrinkled and worn and the lines on our faces would represent the babies and the financial stresses and the time J had stitches and when E was late to walk and the countless other times we worried for them and other babies forthcoming and that night and any other night or scare. And as I considered that - the things we'd go through to get to the end - I really fell more in love with the idea of a dance. Because in a dance, you remain touching and close and intimate and as hard as parenting is or AFib was and anything else might be, through it all we remain close and for that reason we remain strong. That is how I always want it to be. Dancing. No matter how hard the thing is, we do not give up. We do NOT let go. Never let go.
So let's go dancing in the minefield. Let's go sailing in the storm. Oh this is harder than we dreamed but that's what the promise is for. That's what the promise is for.
'Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man
So there's nothing left to fear
So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands
Till the shadows disappear
'Cause He promised not to leave us
And His promises are true
So in the face of all this chaos, baby,
I can dance with you
P.S. You can watch the video for "Dancing in the Minefield" HERE.
1 comment:
Oh, how awful. I hope he is doing better, and thank you for your bravery and honesty in sharing this!
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