This is where I found myself earlier this week - feeling that parenting is downright difficult and I've gotten myself in way over my head. I'll spare you the details, except to assure you that the difficulty is nothing dreadfully serious, but rather uncertainty about where to go from where we are now - and what we might find in the various directions we might pursue.
In short, it's not a bad place I've been in this week. Just... waiting for clarity, wishing for assurance, and hoping for success. (Success being, everything working out peachy-keen).
Throughout the week, Better Safe than Sorry was an enigmatic slogan, as I couldn't distinguish which courses constituted Safe and which might constitute Sorry. Sometimes the answers aren't clear-cut. Sometimes every option includes elements of both Safe and Sorry. Sometimes we cavil back and forth, only to discover the only Sorry in sight is an unnecessary medical bill and the awkwardness of explaining to the doctor, "It's probably nothing, but..."
In such cases, I often lean toward Safe.
Here's the thing: Sometimes the Sorry is far more expensive than an ER bill, and the Safe purchases things that money cannot buy.
As I drove forty-five minutes to the closest Urgent Care open on a Sunday morning with a child who appeared perfectly healthy, but had been experiencing some slightly concerning symptoms, I was grateful for the opportunity to play it safe with my child. Geoff and I had made a loving, if not a necessary, decision. We might just as well have waited till Monday morning to take him to the doctor, but we both felt it was time to make sure everything was as it should be in his body. There is something so satisfying in playing it safe, in knowing we are making every effort to do the best for our child, putting his health above all else - even and especially when we are mostly sure that he's alright. Because, what if he's not? Sometimes the stakes are too high not to play it safe.
I was grateful, too, that Geoff and I had made the decision together. We were equal partners in concern for our child's health, both of us recognizing that he was probably fine, neither of us willing to risk the possibility that he wasn't. After twelve years of marriage and four children, I was refreshed by the shared experience of concern similar to what we felt when our first was a wee newborn hooked up to monitors and we worried and wondered together what our family's future would hold. (That kid has turned out alright so far, in case you wondered...)
On the return trip, I was grateful for all these things and more. Our child, as it turns out, is "extremely healthy." The symptoms that concerned us are real, but passing. He'll be fine. Whew.
As an added bonus, I got to spend some quality time with this really cool kid. As I watched him resist the urge to stick his head out the open window, a sense of immense gratitude swept across my heart. He's a wonder, this child of mine who sends us to Urgent Care for little more than peace of mind. I'm so very thankful for the life and vigor he adds to our lives. I'll happily pay that medical bill when it comes in, considering it a small price to pay for my child's health, his parents' peace of mind, and the many moments of this morning that led me to gratitude.
On a side note: When I walked into the previously unvisited urgent care, the first thing I saw was a Keurig station. Guess where we'll be going next time someone gets sick? Hmm... anyone want to come cough on us?
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