This last weekend Milo and I were excited to finally be able to have mom + daughter time at Disneyland. We headed to California Thursday and went straight there. Milo is normally giddy and can’t contain her excitement when we get to the park, but this time she wasn’t being her normal, crazy self. Instead she was grouchy and tired. By the end of the night she was complaining that she was “so sick”. When my three-year old is telling me that, I know she must feel pretty bad.
We walked back to the hotel room and that night was a sleepless, miserable night. After trying everything possible, I gave up at 4 am and we watched cartoons. Once 9am rolled around she was panting, wheezing, incredibly uncomfortable, feverish, and eventually throwing up. I rushed her to urgent care. After x-rays and breathing treatments they sent us straight to the emergency room at CHOC hospital.
The day was filled with more breathing treatments, IVs, and still no naps. Watching Milo struggle to breathe was probably one of the most heart wrenching things I’ve had to endure. By this point she was using secondary muscles to help in the process and her poor body just looked as if it couldn’t handle much more. The doctor told us we wouldn’t be going home because Milo would need more treatments throughout the night.
They wheeled both of us upstairs on Milo’s bed because, of course, she wouldn’t let me get off to walk beside her. They took us to a room where we would be roommates with a second family. If Milo wasn’t up crying then the little boy next to us was. If Milo finally fell asleep then the dad next to us was snoring loud enough to wake a village. Nothing. Was. Working. By 4am I couldn’t take it anymore and neither could Milo. As much as I tried to hide it and be strong for her, we were both up crying. All I wanted was for Milo to get sleep. Her poor body had been working so hard with no rest. I felt like she was only getting worse and wasn’t able to relax. When it came down to it we were just plain pooped. They eventually switched us into a new room and by 6am we finally were able to sleep. Overall we slept about an hour and a half before she needed another breathing treatment.
The doctor came in to check on Milo and ask a few questions once we woke up.
The conversation went a little like this:
Doctor: “Did you have any dreams when you fell asleep?”
Doctor: “What did you dream about?”
Doctor: “Oh really? What did Jesus do?”
Milo: “He gave me a BIG hug.”
Doctor: “You keep that sweet heart of yours.”
I can’t believe how amazing our little people are. I was trying not to cry because I didn’t want Milo to think she had said something wrong. After the doctor left the room I asked Milo, “What did Jesus do after he hugged you?” Milo went on to say, “He saved me” and I couldn’t help but cry at that point. Our children are such blessings. At such a young age she was teaching me lessons I didn’t think were possible. I always had peace that Milo would be ok in the end, but I also knew that we were being watched over that night. We also received an incredible amount of love and support from friends, family, and a lot of you, and for that I have to say thank you.