I attended your ambulance district board meeting last night. I have visited other local government meetings, but always to help a son with a Boy Scout achievement. Last night was the first time that I participated in something of this nature due to personal interest. On a Tuesday in April, I loaded Nathaniel and his equipment into the van and took him with me to vote. It was a lot of work. But many of the paramedics that work for our district urged local registered voters to show up at the polls. They made recommendations on the election options. I went to your meeting last night to see the outcome of my vote in practice.

Nathaniel was discharged from Cincinnati Children's on Saturday, February 13. During our visit to Cincinnati last September for the tonsillectomy, we became friends with the crews at the Blue Ash Fire Department. They offered to provide a few dinners for us this trip. A delicious steak dinner, and teddy bear for Nathaniel, was delivered to our hotel Saturday night to celebrate both Valentine's Day and Nathaniel's successful surgery.

Nathaniel is nestled in a make shift bed for a late nap and I thought rather than spend time answering all the texts and emails asking how we were doing, I would try to get a post up here. Thank you to those taking time to connect with me, letting me know you are praying, and asking how we are doing.

We arrived safely in Cincinnati last night. Emily, an homeschool senior in high school, is our travel companion. Emily spent about ten hours with us last week learning how to monitor Nathaniel for airway emergencies and how to suction. She and Nathaniel did great together in the backseat yesterday.

I am super excited to share this brief post. The ideas here have been brewing in my head for a long time. There is something about knowing we are taking Nathaniel on vacation that has me really focusing on emergency preparedness. Here we have home field advantage. Our first responders know us well. His doctors are familiar with his case. Even their partners. A national ranking Children's Hospital, with detailed records of his medical history, is in this city. I am feeling the heaviness of hitting the road and playing a series of away games. But play is what we want to do on vacation and my hope is that by putting some extra precautions in place now, we can relax and enjoy our trip.

Want to take a stab at which of my blog posts is the most popular?

Most of my readers would probably guess it to be a post about Nathaniel. His airway emergency in May had over a thousand views within ten hours. Posts about his hospital stay later that same month were equally visited. The post introducing him on adoption day had seven hundred views the first week.

But the most frequented page on my blog is not about Nathaniel. It is... drum roll....

Monday morning I told crews at the ambulance house that, "someday Nathaniel will have a very two-year-old moment, probably when he is mad at me or wants to get a reaction, and pull his trach tube out." At 6: 31 Monday night, he proved me right.

Rich, Peter, Nathaniel, and I had gone for a walk and were coming up our sidewalk. Peter was ahead of the stroller; Rich and I behind it. Peter looked at Nathaniel who was in his stroller playing with his Ligntening McQueen matchbox car, then turned to unlock the door. Two hands were on the stroller tray playing with a car. Not angry. Not having a temper tantrum. Nathaniel was waiting happily with a smile on his face. Peter turned the key, pushed the door open, turned back towards Nathaniel and yelled, "He pulled his trach out!"

There were three places I wanted to be on Saturday night: my sister-in-law's surprise fortieth birthday party in Wisconsin, our church's annual fundraiser to support outreach to the marginalized in St. Louis City, and an Eagle Scout ceremony for a young man Rich has encouraged for years.

Instead I spent Saturday evening standing outside a chicken coop with Nathaniel.

Calling 911 brings help, right? For most of my life I have understood that to be true. Growing up in a small Ohio vacation town as the daughter of a police officer and volunteer firefighter I was familiar with the world of emergencies. Multiple summer mornings I woke to the scanner tones and heard the dispatch give our address as the location of the call. The first few times it happened I flew out of bed in a panicked pursuit of a stricken family member only to learn it was someone at our front door looking for help. Symptoms of a heart attack. A fishhook caught in an arm. Heat stroke. A Lake Erie rock thrown at the back of a head. Our porch steps were an open triage unit if the police car was parked in front of the house. If my step-father called for additional help and a transport to the hospital, our small yard filled with black cases of medical equipment, a gurney, and the guys who graduated high school a couple years ahead of me who were now volunteering. 911 called. Help arrived.

That paradigm might have been turned completely upside down on Nathaniel’s first night home.

Our new baby came home on July 31, 2013. In the middle of his first night he went into respiratory distress due to a mucus plug blocking his tracheotomy tube. God used our hands to provide emergency care and preserved his life. Today we celebrate 100 days with him in our family and I celebrate by sharing a bit of our story.