My hero
Every day I wake up, drag myself out of bed to feed a hungry baby, unclog my head with enough caffeine to remember what meds to give Michaela that morning, stop her feeds that have been on all night to see if she will get hungry for breakfast, and the day continues through each task without any room for a mama to take a moment to consider her other options. I could stay in bed and let the baby cry, the feeding tube beep, Michaela get sick, Madeline grow too old for her age, and meanwhile just bury my head under my pillow and refuse to do anything about it. But that's not what mamas do. On the good days our husbands bring us our coffee first thing and we plow through the day in a series of check marks. I'm always surprised that somehow just getting out of bed and doing what anyone else would do is considered heroic or amazing. When the truth of it is that I don't have another choice. It's just what mamas do.
And now it looks as though day after day after day after day has eventually turned into a full year. Michaela's one-year anniversary has arrived and we are still in the thick of the battle with more wounds than we care to count. SHE has more wounds than we care to count. As the hardest, most exhausting, most terrifying year of my life comes to a close I am being haunted by what has been stolen from us this year: normalcy. We've lost a year in the blur of sleep deprivation, survival skills, and (yes I admit it) a good deal of fear. And yet, although the robber has been here and the house is stripped bare, we still possess the most precious jewel in the world ... our daughter's life. That is the remnant of our stolen year. And I truly don't care what I have to do each day as long as I get to keep it.
Well stated Tiffany. We love you guys very much and I remember that exact day a year ago when you dropped off Madeline in route to the hospital not knowing that your lives would dramatically change on that day. We are in awe of you and Jonathan and your girls, support system and your community. God is watching over you and we are blessed to be a part of your lives. Thanks
ReplyDeleteAt some point the profound sayings grow hollow and the fantasies of other places and times fade in the blizzard of survival. But, love grows with each crisis watered by the tears of these wounds. Thank you so much for sharing with such openness the terror of your struggle. It is reassuring to a parent to see his children develop such competent tenacity in the face of adversity. I believe angels were present when my mother prayed all night over me when they thought I had polio at age 4. Mom had a new baby, Jane, and a husband in the hospital with polio. This power still hovers over you. I love you all so much. "Underneath are the everlasting arms."
ReplyDeleteTiff- as much as we are able, we travel this road with you. Thanks so much for sharing with us all what is going on in your deepest heart. We love you all! xoxo
ReplyDeletehugs with tears and more hugs, and a confident YES to you.
ReplyDeleteYes, you get to keep it!
yes, that's what Mamas do- you get to keep it!!!
Tiffany,
ReplyDeleteYou are an amazing, unique, Tiffany, favorite daughter of the king, and not just any mama woman. I cried and cried so much for you today...but that is not the end of the story. Just like Jill said, you get to keep it. AMEN. That is the end of the story. Jesus is real, and He doesn't make any mistakes. Trusting through the pain makes it so much more real. I LOVE YOU!!!