Just a Fever
“Throwing up isn’t uncommon for him, he’ll be okay.”
These were my original thoughts back in April 2016.
Little did I know that this was just the beginning of what would eventually change my life.
Twelve days after the fevers started and the vomiting got worse, Keven was getting really dehydrated. We couldn’t pinpoint a reason for any of this as all of his labs came back normal so we took him to our local hospital. Instantly the nurses could tell that this was a very sick little boy. It took three nurses to get an IV in his arm so that the IV fluids could begin to flow through his veins and rehydrate him. He barely cared about all the pokes while I cringed each time.
With a house full of children and teaching responsibilities I couldn’t stay at the hospital for an unknown amount of time with him. We had a trusted nanny stay with him and I went to visit as often as I could and called to check in multiple times a day. Each time leaving the hospital was harder. He wasn’t getting any healthier and I wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold on. Each time I left I kissed his forehead and wondered if that was the last time I would see him alive.
5/14/2016
I got to go visit Keven today. I hate that he still isn’t feeling well. I hate that he still has all the same symptoms he did from the beginning. I loved his cuddles today. I especially loved when he wrapped his little arm around me in order to feel comfortable and slept so peacefully. It is moments like this that I will treasure forever. I hate that he has been battling fevers now for 27 days straight without even 24 hours fever free. God, please give us guidance as to how to move from here. Give the doctors guidance. Please heal his little body—I hate seeing him suffer.
It got so frustrating that he wasn’t making any improvements at the hospital. I could tell he was losing weight, weight that he couldn’t afford to lose. They treated him for pneumonia and his cough got a little better, but the fevers were still there and he was still throwing up anything he would try to eat.
As I recall these memories I also need to be reminded of things that I journaled to help me through these times.
5/11/2016
For all the first smiles I’ve seen, all the times a baby was finally able to keep down a full feeding, when they feel well enough to play again, all the times a child was healthy enough to go to a regular room, for all the lives that were spared during cholera, I thank you. Without those times of joy, the times of sorrow would be too hard. God, I thank you for life. I thank you for healing. I thank you for love. I thank you for your plans and purposes you have for each and every one of your children.
5/12/2016
God, thank you for your love that is so deep, so wide, so long, and so big. Thank you God, that even when I can’t understand things that are too complex for my little brain, you understand them and that you look out for little me and for each of these children that have suffered so much. Thank you for acting on your will even if we can’t understand it. You are sovereign. You are holy. You are so big and yet you love me. Thank you.
‘“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” -Isaiah 55:8-9
Check out the next blog in this series Home from the Hospital
*Children of the Promise has given explicit permission for the posting of photos on this site. Photos taken of children in the care of Children of the Promise are not to be posted publicly without explicit permission given by Children of the Promise.
Check out the next blog in this series Home from the Hospital
*Children of the Promise has given explicit permission for the posting of photos on this site. Photos taken of children in the care of Children of the Promise are not to be posted publicly without explicit permission given by Children of the Promise.
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