We had guests visiting a few days ago, and I was recommended to write here again. I have a site where I have started sharing our family adventure into the permaculture world, and the little I write is there. 

Still, here it is. Today marks the start of the cold season, the month of the holidays fanfare and the final chapter of the year. It is a national holiday for both my husband and I. For all of these reasons, it seemed like it was time to celebrate. 

Yet, as we turned on the Christmas lights for the first time in our family, it was clear that my youngest boy was having a severe allergy attack. He went to the emergency room at the hospital and was given medicine as well as an injection. He stayed there most of the day for observation.

We don’t know what caused the allergy yet. Most likely, it was something that he ate for breakfast. I made a nut milk and a breakfast bowl with several ingredients. You try to make the healthiest meals, with the best ingredients, and you can still end up putting your boy at risk. 

I can strip all judgement, but the fact remains that I gave him food that caused him harm. This is something that is really hard to process, and accept. 

Of course, this is an opportunity to forgive myself, for causing this, to claim ignorance and underline my ongoing efforts to provide healthy and delicious food at every single meal, and to discover what is the root cause of this immune attack. 

This episode also highlights how fortunate we are. We live next to a city with a great public hospital, which quickly triaged, and took care of our child. High quality, high speed. The price? Our taxes. This is something to be grateful for, and I am. 

For now, though, the most important thing is that he is well again, smiling, playing and being his usual self. His brother is a little jealous, for getting a smaller share of attention than usual. Really, we couldn’t ask for nothing more. 

However, just as I am thrilled that he is healthy again, I am sad I made him sick to begin with. The time for forgiveness and gratefulness will come. This moment, nonetheless, is to realize something else: it is not just that I love these three men – it is that they carry parts of my soul. When they are not well, my soul breaks. So, I will just go and hold them tight again.