Sunday, June 19, 2011

I'm exhausted on so many levels from this past week.  I can barely keep my eyes open, but I continue to sit in bed beside sleeping J and play the silly bubble breaker game on my phone.  I don't know why, until I figure out that I'm afraid to go to sleep.  The video monitor perched on my night stand is breathing a slow, comforting sound and I can see my girl is fast asleep, hopefully dreaming sweet things.  It's a calming sound, and one I'm afraid to not hear.

Through this ordeal, I've never thought "Why me?"  I understand that things just happen, and it's to our growth or detriment how we handle them.  I have, however, thought "Why her?"  If there's anyone I know that can learn to be like Christ without the mountains of trials that the rest of us require, it would be her.  She's so sweet and good, and it seems utterly unfair for her to pass through this.  The most unfair place in the world?  A children's hospital.  While I love the fact that hurt and sick kids get to have a hospital with starfish on the walls, the fact that kids don't get a 'free pass' through childhood breaks my heart.  On my best day I could walk through a children's hospital and see babies lying so still, and cribs in the ICU and bawl my eyes out.  They haven't even made any life choices that would land them in a place like that, yet they must begin their existence with adversity.  The toddler in the neighboring ICU bed was barely spoken to by parents that briefly visited.  It made me want to scoop her up and love on her.  Kids are so brave, but I wish they didn't have to be.  Of all the injustices in the world, this must be the worst. 

I can see the stress in me.  It plays out in funny ways, but I know it's there.  I couldn't just let Father's Day pass despite our week, so I ran to the mall last night to pick up a few of J's favorite things.  Part of me just wanted to shop.  Shop and shop and shop.  Of course that's a little normal :), but I wanted to shop and buy pretty things, and pretend my life was normal and calm.  A little escape from reality.  My whole body is tense, maybe from feeling like I will be holding my breath for the rest of my life.  We don't know what will happen in the future with Girlie.  All the whys and what happens nexts are answered with a frustrating "We just don't know."

We all went to church today.  We were met with hug after hug after 'we've been think of you and praying for you' after teary squeeze.  Each one melted a little ache away.  We've felt so loved and supported from all our friends and neighbors.  It means so much to receive heartfelt emails and messages. 

Girlie seems to be doing very well.  She doesn't remember any of the actual seizure, which is a huge blessing.  She's as lovely as ever.  J and I don't have much of a defense where she's concerned.  The girl could ask for a puppy and we'd oblige.  I am not kidding.  And I am not a pet person.  She could ask for a stinkin' pony and I'd probably move us out to the country and buy five.  Please don't tell her that, though.  I don't feel like packing. 

Despite everything, though, I somehow feel as if I can't be anything but happy for life now.  Miracles happen.  She's here, and we're all together at home.  It doesn't get better than that.  We've got summer ahead of us, school is almost out.  She'll be attending tomorrow until a doctor's appointment in the afternoon.  Holding my breath about her being out of my sight, but I know she's missing her friends and teacher.  Forward we go.
I feel better just getting stuff out there.  Thanks for all the comments.  They really mean so much.  I consider each a personal hug and value all our friends that we have scattered around the country.  It's funny how sharing burdens with those you love makes them that much lighter.

9 love notes:

Laura F said...

I know you already know these things because you're amazing, but from here it's all "onward and upward", right? Onward because you can't stop time, and you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Upward because that's our ultimate goal, and because the Lord carries us when we need it most. Here's the original quote:

A sacred burden is this life ye bear: Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly, Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly.
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin, But onward, upward, till the goal ye win. -Francis Kemble

Aubrey said...

It's so hard, I know. It is so hard to calm down after such a stressful event. I feel like I spent much of the last 8 years on high alert. I panic if anything at all is ever wrong with BethAnne, wondering if it's something serious. I hardly slept for weeks before her last surgery. We didn't know what was wrong with me until she had her surgery and then I was able to start sleeping again. We spent a few days last week at the Children's Hospital in Cincinnati. Being there always helps me count my blessings, because we see so many kids in more difficult circumstances. My little girl will always have health problems in this life, but she can run and talk and play.

Hopefully these trials will help Girlie develop faith. We have seen BethAnne healed miraculously in the last few years. And she has been old enough to see the miracles. She has so much faith now. She was getting pretty sick on our Cincinnati trip last week and I was concerned that she might even have to miss some of her appointments (which would not be good since we traveled so far to go to them). But Mark gave her a blessing and she felt better immediately and the next day she was almost completely better. I was amazed, but I realized that she has so much faith, it's no wonder that she can be healed like that.

I know that Priesthood blessings can help you get through this. They can help your little girl, they can help you feel peace, they can help J have strength.

I know how hard it is to send them out into the world with health issues, worried that every call from the school is going to be terrible news. It gets better over time, not all the way better, but better. It all gets better. New normal starts to seem actually pretty normal over time and it starts to not hurt so much, eventually it hardly hurts at all.

If you ever feel uneasy about what the doctors are telling you, like maybe it's not quite right, make sure you get another opinion. It took four different doctors, in four different cities over four years to properly diagnose BethAnne. We just wanted to trust the doctors, and they were good, smart people, but they hadn't seen kids like her before so they missed things. If we had found the right doctors sooner, it may have saved her kidneys.

My thoughts and prayers are with you all.

Jessica said...

I cried on the way home from church yesterday thinking about the "why her?" we talked about.

I said it once (or 5 times), I'll say it again...I'm here. And I love you.

dave&hannah said...

Oh you sweet lady, I'm so glad that you posted these things and let us know how things are going. We love you so much and have prayed so much for you!! You have such a wonderful family!!! WE LOVE YOU!

Kate Nelson said...

My eyes filled with tears yet again - which actually made it hard to finish reading your post :). Thanks for your insight and updates. I'm telepathically sending my love to your family from this part of the county!

Madsen Family said...

big hugs for your family.

hilary said...

Lots of love coming to you from us!!! Your posts made me all weepy - which although these days is not hard to do, I just love your family so much! Thank you for sharing your testimony especially!!! Love you!

Peterson Pack of Wild Dogs said...

I love you Melynie. I tried to call you today after hearing of this today but realized I was dialing the wrong number after 3 hangups and no response to my text. I got it together and shot something off as soon as I got home from swimming lessons. I love you and hope that you are abel to be strong for Meg and your entire family. You are strong and willing and gosh darn it, you're not a James for nothing. Please know that I am thinking of you and you and your sweet family will be in our prayers. Please let me know if there is ANYTHING I can do. Call, vent, chocolate. The skies the limit. I luff you.

Gina said...

Beautiful post, M. I am so impressed with you time and time again at how you can express your true love and concern for your babies. I am so glad Girlie is doing so much better. I can only imagine your pearcing love and admiration for her strength and example.