This past weekend was such a huge blessing for my little family. We traveled to Seattle where we spent a wonderful couple of days with the hubby’s family. Baby Noah even got to go to a real Christmas tree farm and cut down a REAL tree!
I was endlessly enchanted by this outing because, growing up, my family and I always got out tree from the chain-link fenced lot in the Wal-mart parking lot. We had a psuedo Christmas/Thanksgiving feast with all the family (which was wayyy too much fun), exchanged presents, watched Noah roll around on the floor, ate more food, had a lot of warm fuzzy talks and EVEN watched old cartoon Christmas movies. It was the best weekend, especially since most of the family were meeting Noah for the first time. Baby N was charming and sweet as ever, of course. They are smitten. ;)
Now, it wasn’t until the plane ride home that things started to get hairy and the best transitioned into the worst. About 20 minutes from landing the first leg of our trip in Denver, I started to feel queasy. I handed Noah to Connor and excused myself to go take some deep breathes in the airplane bathroom (I recommend you NOT follow my example on this one. A lungful of airplane bathroom will not calm your stomach). Despite the general unpleasant-ness of my surroundings, my stomach seemed to calm and I returned to my seat.
Then Connor started taking long deep breathes. He looked at me sideways and whispered, “I’m going to throw up.” Ding! Perfect timing for the seat belt light to blink on. If you’ve flown into Denver airport before, you know that, more often than not, it is not a smooth ride down. We were definitely on the “more often” side of the “not” that day. Connor had to just grip the armrests and breath himself through the rough landing. My arm pats were, I’m sure, not too comforting.
After landing Connor felt a little better. We made it off the plane and were on our way to check our departure times for the next part of our trip but mid-way there I had to spin around and race to the bathroom to experience my breakfast all over again. Yes, I did regret the salsa.
I came out of the bathroom looking like a hot mess and realized Connor had gone down a bad path as well. We did a Noah switch-a-roo and he spent the next five minutes in the bathroom. Then we switched, switched and switched again. At one point I laid a jacket down on the floor of the airport, laid Noah on his back and just curled around him – because I had no energy to do anything else. It was scary people.
Connor came back from one of his “turns” and said we needed to find a family bathroom so we could stay together. AMEN! I am so thankful for a husband who is always thinking of his family. <3
God put a family bathroom right just a few steps from where I had been laying. AND – as we walked into it, a custodian, who had just cleaned everything, walked out. Thank you God. It did make me feel a little bad about throwing up in the trashcan and toilet, but not too bad.
I had one hand on Noah (who was laying on one of those giant airport changing tables) and the other holding my bangs back for a good half an hour before I realized we needed help. Connor was sprawled out on the bathroom floor at this point.
Side note: we are both totally grossed out with what this experience led us to do…and I’m a little embarrassed to write it..but oh well. It’s da truth. So, if I’m grossing you out, go ahead and stop reading. :) Come back later.
We needed help. Connor held Noah while I ventured slowly out of the family bathroom to send out an S.O.S. I found a security lady who looked the perfect amount of motherly for me to break down and say, “My husband and I have food poisoning and we have a 6 month old son and I can’t even pick him up anymore because I’m so weak and I don’t know what to do. I think we missed our flight and I just need help.” I was a MESS. Turns out we hadn’t missed our flight (yet) because it was delayed until midnight (Yay, Frontier! Not.) The motherly security guard called the paramedics right away and wished me the best of luck as I went back to the bathroom to wait.
The paramedic took our blood pressures first as we explained what had been happening for the past two hours…we hadn’t eaten since 11 am and it was some where around 7 pm and our blood pressures were bottoming out. He put a quick call into the EMTs and waited there with us. All the while, I’m sitting on the ground with one arm holding Noah to the changing table. This kid. This beautiful baby. He just laid there the whole time. Never once did he fuss, never once did he squirm around and try to get away. He laid contently on the changing table and gurgled at the light fixture above him. I have a strong feeling that an angel was hanging out up there and entertaining him. It was amazing. Thank you Noah, for being the perfect little bundle of God’s goodness that you are.
Shortly after the paramedic called us in, the ambulance drivers arrived and wheeled us away. I was strapped into a gurney. Believe me, you haven’t been gawked at until you’ve been rolled out of an airport on a gurney. Oh man.
The ambulance drivers were wonderful and quick and good at what they do. They got IVs into both Connor and I and had Noah strapped safely into a car seat in a matter of maybe two minutes. Connor and I both are still throwing up this whole time. It wasn’t until the second round of anti-nausea medicine the hospital gave me that my stomach lightened up a little.
I had Noah on the hospital bed with me, playing with a book, for about 40 minutes when my cousin, who just so happens to go to school in Denver, showed up and immediately picked Noah up and rocked him to sleep. Bryan Crane is the absolute coolest person on the Earth right now, in my opinion. Something big has to be said about a college student who, the night before a couple of big tests, will drop everything to go help out his cousin and hold her baby.
A little while later, my grandparents (who had been in Colorado Springs with other family) showed up at the hospital and whisked Noah away to a hotel room where he was finally able to have a diaper change and a warm bed. Although Connor and I were still continually getting sick, the doctors said there wasn’t anything else they could do to help because the bacteria just had to run it’s course. So we were discharged, picked up by my Grandpa, taken back to their hotel and tucked into a clean bed.
If the story ended here it would be incredible. My family’s heart of selflessness and love would be big enough to win an award. But the story goes on a little longer…
Frontier could not re-book us on a flight until two days past when we were supposed to arrive in South Dakota. While we were finally feeling a little better, that would mean another night in the hotel, another plane ride with Noah (who doesn’t particularly like them anyways…) and a long two-hour drive on our own. I was starting to have a nervous break down thinking about it when my Grandma told me :”Oh honey, we’ll just drive you.” And they did. They loaded all three of us into their van, gave us a bunch of blankets and pillows and drove five hours to meet up with my mother half-way in between Denver and South Dakota. My grandparents then turned around and drove five hours back to Colorado Springs and my mother turned around and drove five hours to get us home. Instead of being home Tuesday at midnight, we were home Monday at 10pm. Without the flight, stress and rush.
I am getting way to long winded here but I cannot end this blog post without saying that family is so important. A family with a foundation of love, compassion and selflessness is stronger than anything. I have no idea what Connor and I would have done if our family hadn’t shown up out of the blue to help us out. Thank you Grandma, Grandpa and Bryan for allowing God to work so vividly and fully from you.
God is good. All the time.