After two nights of croup, my 3 year old was exhausted. Very late on the third night he could hardly catch his breath and I was an exhausted mess. I had tried steaming up the bathroom and bundling him up and taking him into the cold, winter night air, but nothing seemed to be helping. I was running out of options and energy. That was it, even though we didn’t have a penny to spare, we would have to take him into the ER. I couldn’t stand another moment watching my baby suffer. My husband bundled my helpless 3 year-old into his car seat and I left instructions for my brother in laws to listen for our sleeping 2 year old.
The ride to the hospital couldn’t be more than 7 or 8 minutes but it felt so much longer with my mind racing. How were we going to pay for this? Even with insurance, I knew it would cost us more than I wanted to think about. Were we doing the right thing? Was I overreacting?
As the gasping beside me slightly subsided I wondered if the fit has passed, and if I really was overreacting. But remembering the past few nights and the look of terror in his eyes as he couldn’t catch his breath made me eyes fill with tears. At the very least, I had to know what was wrong and make sure I was doing everything I possibly could for him.
We were almost to the ER and honestly, I didn’t feel good about it. But what else could we do? No Urgent Cares were open and I felt like I had exhausted all of our other resources. This was the most logical thing to do. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
By now his breathing was almost back to normal, but I knew it was only a matter of time until his coughing would overwhelm him again.
Venting my thoughts to my husband, he patiently listened to me asking questions here and there, but it became apparent he was letting me make the final decision.
I told him to head for home.
Again, my mind started racing and I began doubting myself all over again… I honestly didn’t know what to do.
“Pull over,” I told him. “We need to pray. I don’t know what to do.”
We did. It was a simple, pleading prayer to know the right thing to do for our son.
As soon as we finished, I had a peaceful feeling come over me with the words spoken to my mind, “He will be okay.”
I asked my husband what his impression was and he told me, “I think he will be okay.”
I was overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude to receive such a straight forward answer. I said a silent prayer of thanks, as we went home.
My son had little fits here and there, but that was the last night of croup. He was okay.
How grateful I am that Heavenly Father is there to help me raise my children! I know I cannot do it alone. How grateful I am that He knows all and understands so much more than I do! I am grateful for that experience because it solidified my testimony that Heavenly Father is there for me in all aspects, including parenting. It increased my own understanding of the love Heavenly Father has for each of us, and He will answer our prayers, even immediately, when we need him.
Alicia is a married, mother of two boys ages two and four years old and is expecting her third in May. She grew up on the island of Kaua’i where her parents still live after 22 years. She enjoys photography and meeting up with friends at the local Applebees for Strawberry Cheesecake Dessert Shooters.