Like I said, we changed Collin's g-tube button yesterday and it got me thinking about what a bizarre road this has been so far. When Collin was in the hospital the first time, a g-tube seemed like the worst thing ever. When it fell out and he had to go to the emergency room or Kyle had to replace it, it was so traumatic. I don't mean to belittle the seriousness of that time for us - it was the hardest thing we had faced up to that point. But you learn that there is something major and unidentified wrong with your child's brain and things shoot into a different perspective. And so I found myself swabbing around the hole in Collin's abdomen yesterday and thinking about how ironic it is that that hole is the least of our worries.
In fact, I have to admit that I am thankful for Collin's g-tube right now. When he cut teeth while he was on that heavy duty steroid, I didn't have to stress (as much) about the fact that he refused his bottle for a week. When he switched meds and couldn't stay awake, we could feed him while he slept. When I'm giving him five or six medicines at a feeding, I don't have to wonder if it all got down. Even though the Topamax decreases his appetite so that he couldn't care less about the stinking bottle and lets the milk run down his face and neck and saturate the top half of his onesie, we don't have to worry about his weight. And now, while he's too agitated to concentrate on anything but fussing and growling and consequently makes himself cough and choke while he's eating the one ounce he actually gets down, I can just hook him up and know that he will be getting everything he needs to get fat and strong.
I believe wholeheartedly in the goodness and sovereignty of God, but I am not one who is inclined to say that everything happens for a reason. By that I mean that I don't think Collin got his g-tube in order to make this time easier. But he did get it and it does make this time easier, and so I just want to give a little nod to g-tube, our friend in hard times.