Jack and I have spent the last few days together, just him and me. We’ve been doing it every few months since he was three months old, these pesky infusions. It never gets easy. Still, after ten(or more, I’ve lost track) visits to get his bone juice, it’s remarkable to see how far we’ve come.
The difference is night and day.
We’ve gone from subjecting an innocent infant to multiple unsuccessful vein pokes before resorting to the bulging vein in his forehead to Jack the toddler confidently strutting his way into “his room” in the medical facility-figuratively saying, “bring it”.
Those early days were rough.
It took three nurses and myself to hold Jack still enough to slide a needle into a vein, only to barely miss. Or have it blow. Or any number of things that could go wrong when working with tiny veins.
Jack would work himself into a frenzy, screaming bloody murder while we held him captive. His eyes would plead with me to make it stop, not realizing that the very thing that was causing him pain was also the antidote to future pain(in the form of bone fractures).
I’ve thought a lot about these tender experiences. The sadness I’ve felt at my son’s suffering. Think of it. His own mother, the one who is supposed to protect him, ignoring his helpless screams to end it all. It must have been confusing to him at the time.
And yet.
Here we are now. Jack’s veins are bigger and stronger, resulting in less frequent attempts to locate one successful enough to handle three days of infusions. He’s done this enough to know that the pain is but a moment.
I hold him close and reassure him as the nurses prick him. He whimpers quietly, uttering, “Mama, hurt. Mama, ow. Mama, all done?”
His resignation tugs at my heart. His willingness to submit demonstrates strength. And trust in me as his mother that despite the pain, I’m doing what’s best for him.
Being a parent helps me understand my heavenly parents more deeply.
Those with limited insight proclaim that a god could not exist, else why is there so much suffering in the world? They imagine a god who caters to their every whim and cushions them from the blows of adversity.
I see a God who is our Father. A parent who knows that challenges, difficulties, yes, even pain are THE VERY THINGS that strengthen his children.
Jack’s medication has prevented fractures, bone pain and bone loss, an outcome we could not have reasonably anticipated when we received his ominous diagnosis over two years ago.
So too, are the painful experiences in life for us. A loving Father in Heaven allows them to happen, knowing the full picture. And, just as I never left Jack’s side during his suffering, rest assured, our Heavenly Father is always there to comfort us. It is our job to trust Him.