Saturday, December 15, 2012

There Are No Words.

It is 10:37 PM.  I have two little girls sleeping in the room across the hall, neither of which feels well.  My husband is filling up his tank at a nearby gas station and heading to Centennial Women's Center, the temporary home of our youngest.  I am sitting on my bed, knot in my stomach, mouth dry, waiting on a call from nurse Laura to hear what the next steps are for Josie and how big of a step back we have taken.  Honestly if I was a drinker I would be on my third glass of wine. A smoker, on my fourth cigarette.  A stress eater, through at least a pint of Ben and Jerry's.  But instead, in some weird way my addiction of choice is writing.  And so I write. 

Often, more often lately, I hear from people who love me, mostly women.  They tell me how strong I am and what an inspiration my faith is.   I wonder if they are really listening, reading, watching me.  Because friends, I am a mess.  I am a complete and utter weak mess of a mama.  I haven't taken a full breath in five weeks.  The only reason I eat is because I force myself so that Josie Hope has food.  I cannot sleep.  My stomach is sick.  I can barely talk on the phone too anyone close too me.  Every time my daddy calls I fall apart.  I haven't spoken to my brother but once in a month so as to avoid the same response.  And on Friday I drove from the hospital to Doc's office and I sat in his lobby a cried for 20 minutes.  Poor Doc.  The strength that I do have I use to get up, to pump, and to take care of my girls at home.  Honestly, I didn't even realize that you could be as tired as I am and still walk, much less function as a mother and a wife (sorta).

And so tonight, as my husband left he prayed for our sweet girl and headed to see her.  I checked on the two running fevers asleep in their room and then I hit my knees. I was all tapped out.  There was nothing to say. He already knows what I want and what I need.  So instead I just cried with my head on the carpet until I felt enough relief in the pit of my stomach to get up again.  

There are no words for what is happening in my home, in my heart.  There are no words for the loss of our sweet boy. There are no words for what is happening in the hearts of those affected by the tragedy in CT. There are no words for Hunter's mama and daddy.  There are no words for what the parents of Harrison Hudson have gone through. There are no words for parents who bury children or families who lose loved ones to violence.  There is only Jesus.  The only hope that any of us have who are fighting or who have lost their fight is in Him.  A beautiful, matchless Saviour who lives in a kingdom where there is no death or pain or fear or sickness.  A kingdom that is filled with the children that we miss.  A kingdom that I will one day call home as I hold my precious little boy whom I am certain has his daddy's dimples.

So tonight as I sit and write and wait for news about my sweet, tiny, beautiful miracle I will cry out to Him.  I will beg Him for peace in my heart and for breath in the sweet little girls lungs.  And I know, without a doubt, that He hears me.  He may not answer just the way I would like Him too or as quickly as I would like.  But He is listening. He loves me.  He loves her. He made Josie Hope and she is here only by His hand and for that I will praise Him. Even though I am weak and a mess, I will find strength in Him when I need it knowing I can do ALL THINGS through Him who gives me strength.  He is my strength and my inspiration. Without Him I am nothing. 

Thank you for praying.  We are humbled by your love. 

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

It Is Written.

The last week has been the most emotionally draining of my life.  If I am being honest, which I usually am, my trust was tested and I failed miserably.  I let a human, a mere mortal, shake me.  I let him make me believe that he decided what was next.  That he knew better than anyone the future of my little girl, of my family, of my heart.  For about 12 hours I was broken because of the opinion and words of one man. Pathetic. 

Many of you know that over the last few days Josie has gone from not good too really bad too better.  And on Sunday when we left the hospital the really bad took a hold of our hearts and our minds and we lost the battle with the enemy as he shook us to our core.  We sat at a dinner table, both of us, defeated.   Not praying, not asking, just expecting and preparing for the worst.  That night as I laid awake next to my middle child, comforting her from the thunder, I tried to cry quietly so as not to wake her.  I called the NICU three times, each time the news was the same and the nurse sounded more concerned.  I drifted off to sleep and dreamed that I was at the hospital and they handed her to me as she struggled to breathe and told me there was nothing else they could do.  I held her as she labored begging Jesus not to take her.  I woke myself quickly and I felt like I was dying.  I could not take a full breath and my whole body ached.  I laid there and all I could come up with was "Please Jesus" over and over and over again until daylight.  I am not even sure what I was asking for but I know that as the sun rose He answered.  Praise God for the dawn. 

That morning as I got ready to go up to the hospital and I sat my girls down and told them that Josie was sick.  We had decided that it was the best way to handle things. Our hearts broke having to prepare theirs just in case, but it seemed like the best way.  Presley doesn't really understand.  Kathryne listened, nodded and said "okay mama".  I pumped and I headed to see my chiropractor and then to the hospital. As I drove I remembered something that I have known all along.  And though it in no way lightened the giant weight sitting on my chest, it offered me solace in a time where there was none.  


There it was, I knew it, I could not argue with it.  It has been made more than clear to me over my lifetime.  It is in the very book that we use for all answers.  It is written and I know it and Doc knows it and no matter what we want or what anyone else tells us, there is no changing it.  You see my friends the Lord has already decided if we get to keep our tiny miracle.  He has already made up His mind and written it down. Josie's future, be it one more day or 100 more years, is absolute. Our amazing, merciful, graceful Heavenly Father has made His decision and it is final.  Sometimes that doesn't make me feel any better.  Sometimes I want to decide or at least have a say. But this week, on that day, it made me feel better. It allowed my to breathe for a moment knowing that not only did I not have control, neither did the doctors in the NICU. 

So we here we are in week five of the fight of our lives, in the fight for hers.   We are tired and we are stretched more than we ever thought we could be.  But we know who is in control and we realize that it is all part of a Great Plan. Clearly that does not make us want that precious girl any less, but it certainly gives our hearts rest on the days that we are trying desperately to control the future.  I pray that if you are fighting for something or someone like we are, it will help you to rest as well. 

We are blown away that you read, that you care, that you pray daily for our tiny miracle. Please keep praying. 

God Bless,