Our sweet Zekey is getting worse and rather drastically. The ‘new’ version of him is slipped from my fingers every time I relearn what makes him comfortable, what makes him laugh, what makes him stop seizing to catch that song or music or show. Basically I’m always relearning what brings my sweet boy peace.
The new normal for Zekey is a regular dose of morphine, valium and tylenol (it really helps, believe it or not) a couple of times daily on top of his many, many other, regular meds to help with seizure control and body function. His body is constantly doing something it shouldn’t. His body is shutting down. They say it may takes months of this kind of suffering.
Tonight, Zekey woke up crying. He is crying many times a day and it’s a constant guessing game as to what it is bothering him at that particular moment. I feel like the proudest mom when I seem to find what he needs. I’m learning to address the first signs with the right meds but eventually, his pain and suffering break through.
Earlier tonight, I was restless with God. Crying so hard my head hurt, begging Him to do something. Something that reminded me He had a plan in all of this. That Zeke’s suffering wasn’t for nothing.
This is when I went downstairs to my crying Zekey and held him and did all of the tricks up my sleeve to ease his pain. Nothing seemed to work. As Zeke heard me but couldn’t find me (loosing his sight), he cried louder. My anger at God, our situation, Zeke’s disease grew.
Then, Andy put on some of Zekey’s favorite music from the good ole days when I would drive around Westerville to catch a break- read old posts and you’ll get a glimpse of how much he was into everything.
Zekey’s crying stopped in an instant. He could now allow my soft touches to ease his fear of being alone. His face next to mine gave him relief like loving momma’s face should. I kissed him a million times on his sweet cheeks as he showed signs of happiness and joy and most importantly, peace. He smiled and my words and giggles and then, he fell asleep.
You know there’s much suffering when a momma prays God would take her child, take him home.
And that’s where Andy and I are. We are praying God’s mercy would snatch Zekey from this wretched disease and into the loving arms of his Savior in heaven with peace and maybe even a smile. The thought kills a part of me and brings much relief, too.
This is the hope I have in Jesus. That I could take a child I carried for 9 months, nursed, raised and loved and kissed on, laughed, cried and prayed over, to be taken from my arms and into the arms of Jesus. Jesus paid the price at the cross and Zekey will reap the benefit of that. So do I and so can you, if you let Jesus be your King, too.
These posts are written in grief, and brokenness, a yearning for change in my heart, a renewal, redemption, and of course my hope in the midst of heartache. I write from a place of desperation for my Savior, Jesus. I write in my brokenness that is exposing my deepest sin with the hope in knowing, God is and will continue to make all things new.
Pray with us? Thank you, friends.