Hospital Memory #2

Since I got my politics post out yesterday, it's time for my religion post I suppose, just because I know those are just the kind of things that people LOVE to hear about.  Actually this is more Hospital Memory Post #2.  It just so happens to involve prayer and that can get religious.  I just thought I'd get that out on the table.

Sidekick Sister was in the hospital for four days and me and my greasy hair spent a good deal of those four days with her.  Most of the time it was a pretty dull business.  Well, for me anyway -she's still talking about wanting to go back to the hospital so she can watch more Barbie movies.  But we also had our intense and frustrating moments.  S.K. Sister struggled with her belly aching and her body itching a good deal and medicine didn't seem to be helping.  On one moany-groany night when just about all of my sweet-compassionate-momma had been used up and I could start to feel the nub of fiercely-annoyed-momma rubbing through, I had a real good idea hit my brain. 

"Sidekick Sister, do you want to say a prayer?"  I asked, real proud that I'd thought of it.

"Ye(s)th," she said so earnestly, so pure-heartedly, so genuinely.  Away flew any wingtip of fiercely-annoyed-momma.

"Do you want me to say it, or do you want to say it?"  Sidekick Sister loves to say her a prayer.  She is a pray-er, and a good one.

"I want you to say it," she said meekly from her tiny body in her big bed.  She folded her arms over her blanket and bowed her head down toward them.  Her pink lidded eyes were closed, her lashes humbly smiling over her cheek bones.  Before I said a word, I was already feeling full in my insides with a warmth that forced me to believe.

I think I said something like, "Bless this little girl that her pain will go away and that she will feel better and start to recover."  I know that while I was saying whatever it was I said, I was all a-fire inside.  It was a swirly, swimming, searing confirmation that I was being heard.  I'm awfully confident that all the faithful heat I was cooking in was coming from the Sidekick Sister's diving trust in God and prayer.

After our prayer, the nurse came in with some benadryl for the Sister.  The nurse thought SKS might take the medication better from me then from her, so she handed me the syringe and stepped out of the room for a minute.  Little girl wasn't a fan of the taste.  I wasn't a fan of her only taking her 5cc medication 1/4 of a cc at a time.  After four pushes and not being half-way done, I thought I'd give her one hefty slam of the remaining benadryl and have it done.  My plan worked out awesomely until two seconds after she swallowed.  That's when she turned her head slightly to the right and ralfed up every last item that had touched her digestive system within the last week.

Talk about your I'm-a-terrible-Mom moment.  Geez.

And then the nurse came back in the room and looked at the sheets covered in a chunky soup of brown and I got to explain how exactly things came to be that way.

But you know what?  After the pukage Little Miss Sidekick didn't make another complaint that night about itchies or ouchies.  She and I slept for 8 beautiful hours straight.

If you want to know if I think God can hear the faithful, or at least the faithful's Mom, I'll have to tell you, I way totally and completely do.