Tuesday afternoon I was beginning to work on an art project when my phone rang. It was my daughter (mother of 3-week-old Sofia) gasping, "Mom—really bad pain in my stomach—can you come?"
Long story, shortened:
• dreadfully ill, very frightened daughter (Emily) in terrible pain
• very scared Mom (me)
• hours and hours and hours in the ER
• CAT scan
• perforated ulcer
• emergency surgery
Incredibly, the baby slept peacefully in my arms through all the drama. My husband was out of town, Emily's husband was at work, not answering his cell phone left in his backpack, out of hearing range. (I finally just left Emily in the ER and drove to his workplace and found him.) I will spare you the details, which, at this point are a jumbled and confusing bad dream in my head anyway, but tell you this story has a happy ending. Cayo or I have been spending nights at the hospital with Emily so she could have the baby with her and continue to nurse her. Emily is recovering, the baby is thriving, husbands/fathers all present and accounted for and doing their parts to keep things running smoothly.
Bad stuff happens in everyone's life, this I know. And while it is never welcome, it can certainly make you thankful. Thankful that Emily is not still in South America. Thankful that I was home when she called. Thankful for the EMTs with the ambulance, who were incredibly wonderful guys. Thankful for modern medicine and the smart and caring people who practice it. Thankful this didn't happen a month ago, before Sofia was born. Thankful, thankful for each other and for friends and for family. And for so much more.