Last night, Chris and I totally broke the law.
Or, at least one of the rules typed on the sheet of paper hanging on the hospital bathroom door:
"Only one parent/guardian may spend the night."
We're usually pretty decent, upstanding citizens. But Chris and I went all rogue up in here and both spent the night. We're rebels like that. He let me have the cot, the blankets and the pillows, and insisted that he could sleep just fine on the non-reclining vinyl chair. He's dreamy like that.
Speaking of the law, we called them last night. Or, Chris did, around 11 pm... when I was home for a few hours with the kids. I texted him because I was fairly certain that someone was trying to break into the front door. I kept hearing these weird noises and bangs... I was freaking out.
He texted me back:
Chris: Do you want me to call the police and have them come check it out?
(a second later.)
Me: I don't know.
(another second later.)
Me: Yeah, maybe.
The valiant Lititz Borough police officers arrived in record time, parked at the street and crept stealthily through the shadows... and wrestled to the ground and finally apprehended...
My homemade, Pinterest inspired, ruffly burlap bandit of a wreath!
Banging on the door in the wind.
(He's serving 2-4 for criminal mischief.)
Seriously. Can you imagine my mortification??
Although now that I consider it, I would rather be mortified than DEAD at the hands of some creepy door-banging serial killer.
After that drama, Evie took a turn for the worse and I headed back to join Chris at the hospital, with a serious RULES-BE-DAMNED! attitude; I was ready to lay into the first person who questioned my right to be with my girl overnight. (Incidentally, no one did. All the better for them.)
A couple of minutes after I got here, Evie woke up in intense pain. She was screaming and crying and sweating and her whole body was convulsing. I have been through natural childbirth, and I can confidently say that what she was feeling was akin to those sensations, at least insomuch as those pains translate to a five year old. I had a moment where I considered telling her to "moooooo" like a cow, a la Ina May Gaskin, but in the end, decided she would probably give me the stink-eye and clock me over the head with her board-and-IV clad arm.
After those pains passed, she went back to sleep and the nurse came in to give her some kind of anti-cramping medicine. I am not sure if it was the meds, or prayers, or the sickness running its course, or what. But Evie has been sleeping peacefully for the last SEVEN+ hours (unheard of since she's been sick!) and only woke up once to pee. I am hoping and praying that this trend continues and my girl is back to her crazy, fun self soon. We are meeting with the specialist at 11, I guess to see how we move forward from here.
I am confident that Jesus has been very close to us in all of this. I am confident that there is a purpose in this. I am confident that He chose this specific set of circumstances because it is the very best for our souls, and because He loves us. I am confident that He will be glorified in this.
I am confident that my friends are waaaay better cooks than I am. I could write a book about how kind and generous and thoughtful people have been with us over the course of Evie's illness.
Maybe I will.
Or you know, at least a blog post.