Precerpt from Raising God's Rainbow Makers: Nurse Hotline
When all the kids were little, there was no lifeline. No safety net. No calm voice on the other end of a phone to help us sort out panic from emergency. If we called the ER, the answer was always the same, delivered in that flat, policy‑driven tone that never once considered the reality of our household: “We can’t dispense medical advice over the phone. You’ll need to bring the child in.” As if “bringing the child in” were as simple as grabbing a purse and car keys. As if we didn’t have three other children at home—one medically fragile, one medically complex, and one who was still learning to tie her shoes but was already being drafted into the role of second mama. So when Doah stopped breathing, or Noelle’s shunt failed, or someone spiked a fever that didn’t look like a normal fever, off we went. Donnie driving. Me in the back seat, doing whatever triage was required. And Lizzie—regardless of age—gathering the others, settling them, babysitting with a competence that grew far t...