Wee Hours

Mothering in the wee hours is a different kind of thing. This precious little Mister is sick. I can not complain because he is 11 months old and has NEVER been sick. He has a bad cold, runny nose, cough, the whole nine yards - and the last two nights he has been wheezing. This is significant because of our four biological children three of them have been wheezers. From 12 weeks old, they wheezed every 4-6 weeks for about 10 days. Infant reactive airway disease was the official diagnosis. Inherited from, guess who? Yep, I had it as well. Thankfully, I no longer have any type of breathing issue and neither do my girls. My nine year old still flares up from time to time, but he has mostly outgrown the condition.

Then, along comes Mr. P. As you know we adopted him eleven months ago. I was a little apprehensive at the 3 month mark. That's when the wheezing started for the others - to the day. He was clear as a bell. I admit I have gotten a bit smug.

"No more wheezing for me, " I have thought more than once. No more hauling that cursed nebulizer machine everywhere we go. No more all nighters with babies who are so sleepy but simply can not take a deep breath.

Well, pride goeth before a fall and guess what? The cough started Thursday morning. No biggie, right? A trip to my amazing chiropractor, GOOT (garlic/olive oil treatment) all over the chest, Vitamin C and other herbs in the bottle - we'll be good to go in a day or two. Yeah, and then it was Saturday - Saturday night, that is. Poor baby can not sleep, coughing his head off, and then I hear it. That tight whistling sound that starts deep in the chest. I put my ear to his chest. I shake my poor husband awake.

"Is he seriously wheezing????"

Stan moans. "No, I don't hear anything." I think he was just trying to make me feel better. He obviously heard it.

Unbelievable.

Sunday night was no better. However, now I have my mind around it, so I actually enjoyed the snuggle time I got in the wee hours. The only way wheezy, snotty babies can sleep is totally propped up. So, my sweet little man and I rocked the night away. I prayed for all the things that have been on my mind. I talked to God a lot about the situations in the world that are breaking my heart. I prayed that He was satisfied with my meager offerings. My midnight mothering. Wiping noses, changing diapers, loving on sick babies. All the things that no one else notices. The things that don't seem to mean that much in the world we live in. The things that I am convinced mean everything. Raising the next generation is of utmost importance and the next generation needs to be raised by their mothers.

Mothers who, though we struggle and stumble, offer up to God the offering of a soft heart, a tender word, another menial chore that no one notices. Mothers who exhibit patience and long suffering.

You know, all through the wee hours of the night I never asked God to take away the wheezing. Oh, I prayed for comfort for my baby and I never want to see him hurting, but if wheezing gets me up to enjoy the presence of God when everyone else is asleep, then I will take it. I want more and more and more of Him. I am amazed and astounded that the God of the Universe actually wants to spend time with me.

So now we have another wheezer in the house. Now we are back to breathing treatments and steamy showers. Our pediatrician thinks that this is not going to be a regular thing and for that I am grateful. It is so hard to see your baby struggling. However, I truly enjoyed my extra time with the Lord - even if I didn't enjoy the reason I was awake.

Thank you Jesus, for the quiet hours - when the world sleeps and mothers move around. Nursing, rocking, and loving their wee babes.