Barring a long story and numerous details that replay in my mind, our adventurous daughter fell a very short distance and hit her head. Initially, what seemed like just a run of the mill bump on the head quickly turned very scary as she went limp in my arms and her eyes began to roll into the back of her head. Blessedly my husband took her from my arms and began rubbing her body and cradling her, encouraging her to continue breathing, and blessedly she regained consciousness within the minute that seemed like an eternity. (We obviously took her to be evaluated and she checked out okay, but upon regaining consciousness she was inconsolable for about 20 minutes, which at that point we were just happy she was alert and breathing.) Thankfully, the Lord has protected my sleep and kept me from reliving some of these moments in my dreams. And thankfully, He saw fit to spare our daughter something much worse and provided us with knowledgable friends immediately present to lend support and encouragement. For this I will always be grateful.
And for this, I will always be changed. The flood of emotions and feelings in that minute is almost indescribable. The initial panic, the adrenaline rush that pushed all other possibilities away, the slight relief accompanied by intense concern and watching, the subconsciously held breath to finally be followed by the exhale, the let down of intensity, relief. All the while, a little nudging in the back of my mind reminding me that she is His and He cares for her more than we do. Comforting on the one hand, and scary on the other hand. I've always wanted to be the kind of parent that holds their children with an open hand, loves them unconditionally and tries my hardest to show them the love God has for them. I want them to know that they are first, and foremost, His children. But I selfishly want all the time with them I can get, and in those moments that I was not entirely sure she was breathing, my mind scattered to a million places- there's so much more she doesn't know, more she hasn't seen, open hands, what the heck just happened, is she having a seizure, is she breathing, open hands, get to the door, did I miss something, did she hit harder than I thought, open hands...
This is still too fresh for me and my husband. It will take some time for us to process and digest it and tuck it away. But to say we will walk away unchanged would be like saying the sky isn't above out heads. We are exceedingly grateful that everything has had a positive resolution and we are exceedingly thankful to have this spunky little daredevil in our lives and hearts. We love her more than she knows.