Praying Friends & Epi-pens

December 29th, 2016 was the single most dreamy day of my life. More special than graduation or even my wedding. My friends gave me my first birthday party EVER. Every detail was so extravagant, I am still trying to take it all in. It was over two months ago and I still haven’t finished opening gifts and cards. It truly left me speechless.

 

December 30th was the single most nightmarish moment I’ve had as a mom. More frightening than childbirth or surgeries.  Our youngest daughter Amiya was exposed to Tree nuts, which resulted in anaphylaxis.

Anaphylaxis is a severe allergic reaction that needs to be treated right away. If you have an anaphylactic reaction, you need an epinephrine (adrenaline) shot as soon as possible, and someone should call 911 for emergency medical help. Left untreated, it can be deadly.”

Amiya, took two Benadryl, a puff of her inhaler, and I gave her two shots of epinephrine. She still struggled to breathe. We didn’t have much time so I drove her to the ER.

 

 

On my way there I prayed that she would live and not die and declare the works of the Lord. I did talk to text in a Facebook Messenger thread to my party friends who had been exchanging photos and fun memories from the day before and asked that they pray for my baby girl. I rolled down the windows and said, “Amiya, stay calm, you’re going to be okay.”

I called a friend who is a nurse, she asked, “Toya, do you want me to call the hospital and tell them you are coming?” We arrived at the ER and saw my husband who had gotten dropped off by a friend waving. I dropped her off and parked the car and walked into the most seamless ER experience EVER. The doctor was pleasant, almost perky it seemed. I could tell how serious the situation was based on how many meds they administered, how he monitored her, how swiftly they were all moving, but the smile on his face didn’t seem to match the circumstance.

I naturally have an unusual calm in emergency situations, watching someone who could deliver Emergency Room service with a smile for me was like watching my favorite public speakers. You know it’s a stressful situation but, because they were born for that very purpose, they perform with precision and supernatural grace.

Watching the doctor and nurses work to open up my daughter’s airways was like watching the symphony. The crescendo of the machines, amidst the clamor of pediatric ER chaos. I sat in a chair and watched everyone play their part. Roles they had rehearsed a thousand times before. A single tear streamed down Amiya’s face as they administered more medication into her body than most 14-year-olds experience in their entire lives.

All the while my friends bombarded Heaven on her behalf. The pretty women who had played princess 24 hours before, transformed into warriors united on the battlefield fully prepared to fight on Amiya’s behalf.

After hours of attempting to keep her airways open the doctor’s smile faded and he said, “Young lady, I can not send you home. You are still breathing 28 times faster than you should.” I text my sister to ask my friends to start praying, within 30 minutes he walked in, and said, “Amiya, you get to sleep in your bed tonight!”

I am just as thankful for praying friends as I am for epi-pens. My daughter is alive today because of the fervent power of prayer.

 

 

 

 

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