Looking at our 3 daughters you see gorgeous, tall, athletic young women. Their long dark hair, mischievously twinkling dark eyes, and tiny little waist lines make me envious every day for those years of my own youth. They look incredibly similar. Looks are very deceiving! Their similarities end at their looks in many ways. Any time I get to spend some alone time with one of them, I marvel at their ability to amaze me on what individual and unique people they have become.
For over a week now I have had our middle daughter home sick. Really sick. The kind of sick that has you running to the emergency room at midnight on a Sunday with a child doubled over in pain. Tests, iv fluids and pain meds, and reassuring words from doctors Our trust in our own parenting abilities during medical issues has taken a huge hit since we lost CJ. Basically, that feeling trusting your gut is gone. Every second of every day I am waiting to be once again proven wrong in the most horrific way. So last night we were to the point of she and I crashed out in the family room. She tossed and turned in pain all night on one couch. I kept watch from the other. It was along night.
I wonder if I'll ever trust my instincts again. With the girls already teens/young adults, my chances to explore and rediscover those instincts are few. I look around and wonder if others trust us with their babies. If my own children will worry about leaving our grandchildren with us. It's not rational, but my heart reminds me every day that I am in the minority of parents who have buried a child. Look at the odds- of 4 children, only 3 are alive. My track record for the simple act of keeping my children ALIVE sucks.
This journey isn't always pretty. Days like today fear takes over every inch of me while I go into autopilot. My beautiful child is finally feeling better and almost ready to jump back into life. I'll be home worrying about her every second when she leaves my sight. I am unrealistically convinced that at any moment, the phone will ring and life will stop all over again. If that moment ever happens, there is not a doubt in my mind that my heart will finally stop for good.
Every sniffle, ache, fever, or bump will never be taken for granted ever again. Tonight's post isn't dripping in very much hope. But to not share where my heart truly is this week would be dishonest to this journey.
CJ, I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry....
May tomorrow find me exhaling a bit more while, trusting my ability to keep all of these beautiful creatures alive, and finding the courage to listen to my inner voice.
No comments:
Post a Comment