Where’s Rambo Mom?

Rambo Mom. I’ve been called that more than once.  The title may have been given to me by one or more of my kid’s teachers, was it Mr. Morecraft or Dr. Kirby?  Not sure, anyhoo, I’ve no idea why someone would label me in that way. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it… Sure, I’m a bit fierce, like most mom’s,  where my children are concerned.  Mess with my kids and really, I nearly loose my religion.  And you in turn may loose your head. Nothing personal.

But Rambo Mom was no where to be found last Tuesday when my daughter Stephie became seriously ill with HELLP Syndrome at 36 weeks pregnant, I found myself in a place I’d never been as a mom.  What a horrifing thing for your child’s health to be failing and there’s nothing you can do. My own mother made this journey with my brother. And some of you reading this have too. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine if the outcome had not been a good one for Stephie. How much pain so many parents have had to endure.

It’s in our nature as parents to fix whatever is wrong with our children. . But this situation, well, it was beyond my control. No matter how angry I got, no matter how much I searched for solutions, I couldn’t fix it.  More often than not this Rambo Mom was reduced to a small terrified child crouched in a corner (in my mind )begging God for mercy on my daughter and my granddaughter.  Rambo Mom reduced to a terrified child…that’s not supposed to happen.  I’m the mom. I have to be in control. I have to fix this.  Why did I keep feeling like the child myself?

That first night I was sitting up all alone in the dimly lit waiting room.  It was after midnight and there was a hush over the hospital.  Baby Elliot was in the Neonatal Unit. Steph was on anti-seizure drugs and being monitored carefully. Suddenly over the intercom came this loud beeping and a voice saying  “CODE” —– tower— Room 3— I heard only about half of it, I think I almost blacked out.  After being in the hospital with my mom and a “code” being called on her three times I knew what this meant. Stephie was in one of the “300” rooms.  I jumped up hyperventilating, convinced it was her.  I can’t tell you how traumatic the next 2 or 3 minutes were until I got someone to say the Stephie was okay, it wasn’t her.  After that I will tell you, I wasn’t Rambo Mom, I was nothing more than a terrified, helpless child who ran into her Heavenly Father’s arms.

That surprised me a little…when my child was in peril I became a bit of a child myself. And  the One who made us both took over from there.

Things don’t always turn out like we pray they will, I have a small understanding of this, I lost my little brother to cancer. But last week, when I couldn’t make things right and I was so afraid…I was driven to bring my child and  my granddaughter to Someone who loves them more than I do…Someone who’s bigger than me. Someone even more passionate about Stephie’s well being than Rambo Mom…That Someone is Father God. The One Who holds the Universe also holds my precious girls…tonight I pray again for Him to strengthen Baby Elliot so she can be with her Mom and Dad soon…