Still

We all encounter silence in our lives. Stillness. Emptiness. Moments of soundless agony.

The second after angry words are hurled.

The quiet of sadness that breaks upon us in waves.

The moment we realize we are utterly alone.

The seconds before the hurt child utters a bone breaking wail.

The time when the child should cry, but is still. So still.

In these moments, He can be found. Close as skin, speaking to us in the silence of our pain. Holding us as we scream for mercy from providence, from circumstance.

From death. Unfair death.

He is there. He is faithful, and close to the brokenhearted. Even in our angry demands of "Why?", He sits with us.

When the moment of birth becomes filled with stillness, when the cry doesn't come, when the pain is a breaking of the soul and heart so terrible the angels cry...He is there. In the midst of it all.

And I believe His tears fall with ours. Our pain is His pain. And I also believe he is the mightiest of comforters, the strongest of pillars to lean on.

Somewhere under a wintry Nebraska sky, a baby was born. In silence.

I pray that He is close to those who this breaks upon. That He holds them like the ocean holds the sand. I pray they feel His closeness and His comfort while the stillness of the birth echoes in their world.

By the light of my IV bag...

Hi.

Remember me?

I kinda deserted you for 3 weeks, eh? Sorry about that! But I promise I have lots to tell and some good stories!


The biggest of all? My baby turned 2. My precious little guy has been here for 2 years! It's amazing. He is bright and active and funny. He cracks us up with his babble and yelling into the phone. His face melts my heart. 2 years! It has gone SOOOOO fast! (and some days SOOOOO slow. Just being honest. Ahem)

And now we are looking down the pike at Lily's birthday, where she will turn 5. I seriously cannot think about it without tearing up. My sweet angel girl will be 5. Next year, she will go to kindergarten. It seems like yesterday I was holding her little apple sized head in my hand, tracing her ears, turned so pink and perfectly against her skin. And now, she is turning 5. Every single day with her has been a joy.

In other not so important news, I have done all of my appointments and doctor visits for my surgery, and I have a date- Valentine's Day!

Isn't it romantic?

I can just see Mark and I gazing into each others eyes by the light of the hospital fluorescent, or watching the sunset through grainy hospital glass windows. Maybe, if he is really lucky, he can hold my catheter bag while I walk the halls. I may even let him punch the button to give me more pain meds. Ain't he a lucky guy? I know, I spoil him.

I'm a little freaked out. I struggle with this daily- I LIKE myself. I would want to hang out with myself. Why am I doing something to change myself? I also struggle with the whole- "Big is beautiful" thing. It is beautiful, yes, but is it healthy? No.

I have started to think of it like this- I am already running a race. I am actively CHASING health. I have taken alot of steps already- being active, exercising, changing my diet, controlling portions, GIVING UP COFFEE FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!!!!!!!! GIVING UP CAKE AND COOKIES AND CARBS!!!!!!!

The surgery is the biggest step, the most important step. I can be afraid of it, but I am doing it anyway- fear or no fear.

Because you know what's scarier?

Hating myself. Pulling myself down. Wrecking my own psyche. Damaging myself.

I am going to be in pain. I am going to have to struggle to figure out what I can and cannot eat, and I am never going to be able to sit at a meal mindlessly.

And maybe that's good. It's GOOD to focus on what you are fueling your body with. To truly see it for what it is, examine it, decide if its nutritionally sound. All of that is good, and I am up for it.

My biggest problem right now is feeling as if I am burdening anybody with this. I do not want anyone to have to go out of their ways to help me, to take care of my kids, or to do anything for me. But that's just not possible. I have to allow people to help- because they want to and they love me. I need to realize that nobody will feel obligated or resentful. But damn it's hard to ask for help. Very hard. But I need it, so...

Please pray for my kiddos. For my family. That this will be an easy recovery and the results will be worth the work and tears that went into the decision.

Thanks friends. Love to all.

Off the rails

So last night was my first nutritional class for post op.

It scared me to death.

And not because I was worried about never drinking 30 mins before, during, or 30 mins afer neals ever again.

And not because getting enough protein into your small stomach pouch is WORK after surgery.

Not because I have to take chewable supplements 3-4 times as day for the rest of my life.

Not because it will be a struggle not to get dehydrated or anemic.

But because for the first 6 months, I will have to focus ALOT of time and energy on ME.

And I don't do that.

I am a caregiver. I take care of people. And it's not that I don't take care of myself- because I do. But this will require ALOT of time and focus. And it makes me very uncomfortable.

I don't want this to burden anyone.

I don't want to burden anyone with MY care. That's not my role right now. My role is to TAKE CARE of everyone.

I am overwhelmed with the details. I am overwhelmed with figuring out how I am going to balance feeding my children, caring for them, and all of my other responsibilities, along with finding the time to eat when I am not hungry. To cut my food into pencil eraser sized bites, chew it to applesauce consistency, and get in my 1200 calories, 60-80 grams of protein every single day.

Can you imagine?

I can't.

But I CAN imagine a cold white winter day. A cold granite stone with my name on it. And my children crying.

And that is why despite my worries, and despite my concerns, I am going to keep going.

I am going to need help, and prayers, and good friends. My kids will need playdates and other mamas to pick them up and hold them when I won't be able to. My husband will need a break and time to work. We will have to financially sacrifice to hire help if need be, to buy supplements, to pay for the nutrition classes and therapy afterwards.

It seems so so selfish. And so wrong. And entirely the wrong time to focus on myself.

But if I don't do this NOW, I will have to do it LATER. When I am older and less able to recover. When I weigh more and have less mobility. When I have diabetes or my blood pressure isn't controllable anymore.

And so NOW, in this moment, I am choosing my health. And I am choosing to take the time to make this work, to keep myself healthy, and to be HERE for my children.

I am choosing to burden my husband with my care. I am choosing to worry my in-laws and friends. I am choosing to remove myself in some capacity from my children's lives. Even if it is for just a few days.I have never spent a night away from them. I have never been away from either of them for more than 5 hours.

And it breaks my heart. I know that that sounds dramatic, but it is not. My children are my world. I am involved in every aspect of their day. I make all decisions for them. I feed them every meal. I tuck them in every night. I wake them every morning.

And I know that with this decision comes risks. Death. Complications.

That scares me more than I have words for.

And I have no words for that. I have nothing that I can comfort myself with. I can only pray.

And I hope you will keep praying with me.