My oldest, Mia, gave us a run for our money when she was 9 months old. After a short bought with the flu, I changed her diaper only to find it full of blood. We spent 3 days in a children's hospital with no answers. We prayed tearful, pleading prayers. I accepted the doctors' lack of answers as evidence of the Lord's healing.
Since then, the life we lived was:
I have two perfectly healthy children. They are delights. Ornery very often but also full of laughter and love.
But.............................................................
It was Christmas. My baby was 9 months old. We all sat watching the festivities. The excitement is contagious. Much of the time is spent in family traditions... the first snow sledding of the season, baking sugar cookies, singing Christmas carols. As I watched the delight on their chubby faces, I saw a peculiar look in my Eva's eyes. She sat awkwardly. Her back was stiff. Her head back with her chin in the air. She rocked slowly. Forward and back. Forward and back. Her eyes were searching as she looked at me but they didn't light up at my voice.
I tried to ignore it. My brother asked what Eva was doing. I pushed it off and offered more presents. Days passed into weeks and months. Eva's rocking intensified. She rocked often and everywhere. I would pick her up from the church nursery only to hear, 'Oh Eva was perfect! She just sat and rocked and was so content! She must have been rocking to the music!' I heard that over and over. I barely managed a smile and a 'Thank you' each time. I knew everything was not perfect. But I was fearful about looking into it.
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