Mother’s heart

I got a phone call this morning on my way to work from Hannah.
“Hi mom. Just wanted to let you know I am in the hospital.”
Before you panic like I did, she is fine. She had a rough night with dysentery and was in considerable pain. She began bleeding and that concerned her enough, that she called a taxi to take her to the doctor. She has since been evaluated and it was determined that she has a bacterial infection. She has been released with some medicine and some stuff to help her rehydrate. They do not know where she picked up the bacteria. She knows the food and water rules from all of her other travels and she said she has not broken one of them. There is really no telling where she got it from. The bright side is that she has experienced about every culture shock issue you can. She feels that her body has finally adjusted to the heat, her rash is gone. The mosquito net has helped with the insect bites. She still doesn’t have internet access, so the communication is very limited. She is supposed to be getting a modem to help out with that soon.
Just so you know, that has been one of my fears, that she would be sick and I wouldn’t be there to help her. I don’t know how to stop that mother thing that kicks in and tries to fix everything for everybody. When I consider it, I have kissed every boo-boo for 21 years. I have been to the ER with every child at least once or twice. We have had 11 broken bones, a bunch of stitches, at least 4 surgeries, 3 car accidents, and several cases of pneumonia. This does not include the sinus and ear infections, flu, chicken pox or cases of strep. I won’t even begin to talk about stomach viruses, because I cannot count the middle of the night cleaning frenzies. Every mother knows what I am talking about here. It is a habit fueled by adrenaline. You wipe up the blood, or the vomit…something you would have never considered before you were a mom…as if it is the most natural thing in the world. You ice limbs with protruding bones and kiss away the tears. You sit up all night trying to bring down a fever, or rocking a teething baby. When your kids hurt, you protect. When they are in trouble, you go. You forget anything else and jump in the car and drive however long it takes. Only this time I cannot jump in the car, or on a boat or a plane. I have to sit and wait for spotty communication to inform me of my daughter’s health. There is something uncomfortable about that. Something that rises up to fight for her, but knows that I cannot. I knew this trip would be a challenge for her, what I didn’t know is how big of a challenge it would be for me. It is similar to when she went away to college…only this time it is much, much further. I feel as if part of my heart is missing. It is hard. Yet, I know the result will be trust. Her learning to trust him to care for her when I cannot. Me learning to trust God with the safety and health of my child, who is no longer a child. I have been doing that for years…this takes it to a new level. I do, however, know for a fact, that he is up for the challenge and he is faithful beyond anything I can understand. I hold tight to that as my mother’s heart tries to let her go.

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