I was dreading today.
Dreading grabbing the lab slip that the pediatrician had filled out for Chloe when I took her in yesterday because for a month now she's been telling me her legs feel funny.
"going to fall."
She's complained of dizziness, too, so I thought better safe than sorry and I took her in.
She's had bloodwork before, and actually did amazingly, but I still wasn't too excited to have to explain to her that they'd be poking her again and that she needed to be brave.
The nurses looked scared when they realized we were there for a blood draw.
Like they wanted to shout, "1,2,3 Not it!" and scatter, but we checked in and they showed us to the waiting room and told us we'd have to wait at least 20 minutes.
"Do you want to watch something on my iPad, Chloe?"
I asked her to try to distract her.
I saw her swallow really hard with tears in her eyes and say,
"Yeah. I want to watch that show where tgfggfgfgfgfgfhyhe kids dress up and their parents buy them fancy dresses."
I thought for a minute.
"Do you mean Toddlers and Tiaras?"
So we watched it.
She commented that those moms seemed crazy.
Every time anyone walked by, she looked up. I could tell she wasn't really watching it.
Her mind was too focused on if they were coming for her.
And then they did.
She looked up at me with the look that every parent hates most.
The look that says, "Help me."
But you can't, and you have to be strong and show that you're brave so they can be, too.
I took her hand and told her she was going to to so so good, and we walked in together.
The room seemed cold and overly white.
Four phlebotomists stood staring like a row of sheep at us and Chloe decided to bolt.
I had to go retrieve her and literally pry her hands off of the door handle as the tears started.
Then came the screaming.
The total panic.
She had absolute TERROR in her eyes.
I've almost never seen anything like it.
I'm sure all four of the phlebotomists have asked for a raise now.
She pulled my arms around her body and screamed at me not to let her arms go. She was shaking, violently, and begging to leave. She didn't want to. She didn't want to. Please let her go. Please! PLEASE!
I tried reasoning with her. I tried talking more sternly. Then more gently.
One phlebotomist said they didn't think we'd be able to do the draw.
It was fear as intense as I've ever seen it. And I've SEEN it.
It went on and on for probably 15 minutes until finally I decided just to
pin her against me.
The phlebotomists took my cue and before long there was one holding each arm, me holding her toso, one holding both legs and then another one ready to do the draw.
It was a nightmare.
I had tried everything to get her to calm down and hold still.
At this rate there was no way they'd even CONSIDER trying to poke her for fear they'd seriously harm her with all her writhing.
All I had left to do was pray.
Now I know some of you aren't praying people. I know this might be the part of my story where you stop reading or roll your eyes, but I AM a praying person and I know what I have experienced in my life and I know that God is real.
He has met me in places no one else would go and I felt like I'd done all I could do on my own.
And that's the thing I've found about God - That's the moment when He really likes to show up.
It's almost like He's saying, "Are you done yet?"
As I struggled to pin this child that felt like, at that moment, had the strength of 3 adults, I whispered a prayer too quiet for her to even hear with her head pressed against me. Her screams were muffling all other noise.
"Father. PLEASE. I need you to be here with Chloe."
And in that space between that last period and quotation mark, He did just that.
INSTANTLY she was quiet.
The tight balloon that was her body deflated and as I clung to her every muscle in her body relaxed almost like she'd been drugged.
She offered her arm to the tech and sat. Still.
It seriously kind of freaked me out.
My own firey furnace moment.
And if that moment had a sound effect, it would have been,
2 seconds later the draw was done.
She was smiling.
I was crying and totally unable to talk.
It had been palpable - the answer to my prayer for my child.
The most important prayer a mother can pray.
Today I was reminded that God cares about the things that matter to us because WE matter to HIM.
And I was also reminded that maybe next time I should START with the
prayer instead of trying to do it all alone.