August 19, 2011

Day by Day

It's one of those nights where I can't sleep. When all the heavy thoughts come crashing down and won't leave my side. Dealing with things lately has been day by day. This type of situation is new in a way, because for the first three months we had so much on our plate that there wasn't time or energy to think much about Anna's leg. There was her eating, sleeping, food allergies. There was recovering from surgery. There was trying to figure out what would comfort her when she was upset, what her cues were, how to help her learn to fall asleep. There was Ben's finals. There was major sleep deprivation. Now that she is so easy to take care of, there is a whole lot of time. Time to think. Time to wonder. Time to worry.

Sometimes it just hits me- this wave of sadness that I don't see coming, can't explain. It just washes over me. The Sadness. Grief. I'm not even quite sure what it is over- grief over the "loss" of Anna's leg? Loss of normalcy? Fear of what's to come? Of her suffering? A combination of these things? All I know is The Sadness... the heaviness. It hits me like a ton of bricks. The reality of it all. It just sinks in sometimes.

Like times when I see my friend's new baby who is so perfect and healthy. Times when I see another pregnant woman who is so excited about her new bundle of joy. Times when I see a perfect little family with three or four kids- all healthy and happy. Or a beautiful little girl, perfect in every way. Nothing wrong. Nothing missing. All fingers, all toes. All arms, all....legs. Everything's there. Just as it should be. They don't even notice because well, that's the way it's supposed to be.

Sometimes I WANT so much to just be happy for a friend, or even a stranger, and I AM happy.... but I can't keep the Sadness from washing over me. I hate it because it robs my joy for that person, for that moment. That unexplainable Sadness pushes its way in and won't budge. Won't let me enjoy. The realization that our "normal" has been stolen away. That "normal" will never be us. The naivety that I once had- where everything was as it should be is just... gone. And I can't seem to get it back. Does that sound bad? Gosh I don't even know how else to describe it.

It feels like losing something over and over again. Something you can't replace. Like you are looking for something and you don't even know what it is. You just know it's missing. And you don't know how to find it. And everywhere you go, you are reminded that that something is missing... it's gone. That something that you don't even know what it is. You just know how important it was. And how much you miss it.

My sweet Anna, words cannot describe how much I love you. My heart aches for you when I think about all you have gone through already and what you have to go through still. I wish I could hold you forever and make everything okay. I would give you my leg if I could. I would go through surgery for you if I could. I wish more than anything you did not have to be away from your Daddy and me during that time. Even though it's not anytime soon, I still think about how I can't stand for you to be afraid. How I don't want to give you over to be taken away where you won't see us when you go to sleep or when you wake up. I don't want you to be scared, to feel abandoned because you don't understand what's happening. I already feel so helpless and it hasn't even happened. God, please protect our baby if that time comes. Please comfort her - wrap your arms around her when she is alone and sing over her. I pray that you would whisper your love to her over and over and she would rest peacefully in the shelter of your wings. That nothing would be able to harm her. Thank you for never leaving her. Thank you for never leaving me.

5 comments:

Erika said...

This is beautiful, Lisa. I know what you mean about the Sadness washing over you and taking away your joy for other people. It sucks.

I know that Anna's life is and is going to be filled with so much joy and peace. I don't think you even need to worry about that. (which is truly awesome advice, right? "just don't worry about it!" VERY HELPFUL, ERIKA!)

I'm going to be in Augusta for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. Come by my parents house if you get a chance!! I would love to see you and Anna.

Katie Fish said...

Lisa, I know EXACTLY what you are feeling. It makes me so sad to know you are feeling like this, but glad that I'm not the only one that feels this way at times. :) I'm only a few months ahead of you on this crazy roller coaster, but I can tell you (at least for me) it has gotten easier. I seem to have less and less of these days and thoughts that you describe here. I still have them, but not as often. If you ever need to chat, please email me, we can exchange numbers. I know what you're going through and it's not easy. But we'll be okay! And so will our babies (probably more so than us)! :)

Kristina said...

I appreciate your vulnerability here. I know to say "I'm praying for your family" can sound redundant, but I am. I agree with Erika...Anna's life will be full of joy and peace.
My friend Jessie's baby girl was born with a life threatening heart condition and had to have open heart surgery at a mere days old, another at 3 months, and will have to have another at 3 years old. That little baby girl has already been through so much. She just turned a year old and you would never know what she's been through.. She is so happy and full of peace and life. She is a very special little girl.
I think God gives a very special grace to children allowing them to bounce back from such things easier than we would as adults. I know that doesn't make it any easier when you are in the midst of it but I believe your Anna will be so taken care of by her heavenly daddy.

Jenny said...

Hi Lisa I just found your blog through some other FH blogs I follow. My son Noah also has FH. He is 9 years old now and doing great. Here is my blog jennysgang.blogspot.com If you go to the labels and click on Noah's Surgery you can read all about him.

Jenny

Lauren Clements said...

I found the link to your blog on the FH facebook page. I am so thankful for finding it! My son is 15 months, FH in his right leg. I feel that grief quite often, but have never been able to find the words to describe my sadness. Thank you for writing these words:)