But then, on 29th August our world came crashing down around us, and what followed was 3 weeks of hell. Torture. Complete despair. Heartache like I have never known. Instead of bringing our wee man home, Elijah ended up in PICU that afternoon and was the most fragile little one in The Royal Victoria Hospital. I actually… Continue reading Disappointment.
As I said in the previous post we began to entertain the idea of getting our wee man home. And I have to admit I was so ready for this. My patience was definitely wearing thin, there were days it was all I could do to get out of bed and head down that M1… Continue reading Feeling determined.
And so August continued with those ups and downs. As friends and family and people we didn’t even know prayed and fasted we saw God move in remarkable ways. Results came back to say he didn’t have this and he didn’t have that. When they thought there were problems with his brain, then his kidneys,… Continue reading Did someone say home?
We didn’t know that day just how important that little ward would become to us. It became a second home, a little haven; the nurses became our good friends, the Sisters like mothers, the cleaner knew what way I took my coffee, the doctors felt like school mates, and the cardiac consultants like grandpas. What… Continue reading ‘I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down!” 🎶