Yesterday was a rough day. The weather wasn't the greatest, and Luke had his first occupational therapy visit. The visit was aggravating - I had trouble finding a parking place, and then we had to sit and wait 10 minutes past his appointment time before they called him back. He came out of the room twice with his therapist, and both times he saw that Cody was playing with the iPod Touch. It happens to be one of Luke's obsessions, and both times he threw a fit in the waiting room. I'm talking ear piercing screams, crying and throwing himself on the floor. I was completely, face turned bright red and want to crawl under a chair, embarrassed. Cody was bored out of his mind. The ride home was eventful as Luke had another tantrum, and Cody got a nose bleed.
It pretty much set my mood for the day. We were all tired and cranky, and I made both boys take a nap so that I could too...something that never happens around here.
Today I looked at the date and realized that yesterday marked two years since Luke's first anaphylactic reaction (story can be found under "food allergy" tab above). Two years since that horrible day when I watched my baby lose consciousnesses and begin to turn blue. Two years since I sat in the hospital room with him, praying to God that he wouldn't stop breathing.
I don't think I ever shared this part here, but once they got Luke stabilized that day, someone came in with forms for me to fill out. She asked me if I wanted clergy to come in and pray for Luke. I said no, because at that point I was so exhausted that I just wanted to rest (Luke was sleeping). I didn't feel like talking to anyone else.
Once she left though, I went into a panic. Why did she ask me that? Was he worse off than I thought? Would God punish Luke because I didn't have the clergy come in to pray?
Those are not thoughts that I would normally have. I don't believe that God would ever punish like that. But at the time I was so desperate for Luke to be ok, that the thoughts went through my head.
So here I am, a day after the 2 year mark, upset with myself for how I let such small things get to me yesterday. I was cross with Luke for not cooperating as well as I hoped he would, and I scolded him for it. Those things aren't important though. He's only 3 years old. 3 year olds have tantrums. What's important is remembering how precious his life is, and being thankful that he is here with us.