Reading his post, I thought back to our drive home this past
weekend. We had to go back, feed the
chickens, take care of some loose ends, and grab more things from home that we
needed. As I drove (and Brandon slept in
the passenger seat next to me), I found my mind wandering back to a
conversation I’d had with one of my favorite people (Pastor Jim Wheeler) almost
five years ago. The day was March 12,
2010. Wheeler and his wife were taking
Brandon and me out for lunch and as we sat across from them in a booth, I
started to cry and told them all about my nephew, Jared, who had passed away 5
years ago from that day. Wheeler, in his
infinite wisdom, held my hand and told me that it was okay to be upset, that it
was okay to still hurt and it was okay to be mad about it. I felt like it was so unfair that he’d been
torn away before he was even 6 months old.
My heart hurt – like an indescribable hurt that I’d never felt before the
day we lost Jared nor since. I hurt for
my own loss, but mostly for the loss that Tracy and Josh felt. I wasn’t a parent at the time of this
conversation, so I felt this kind of hurt even before I knew what it meant to
love someone so much you’d die for them.
HURT – lots of hurt. Wheeler held
my hand and said, “I know there is nothing that anyone has said that has
helped. People probably told you that
God needed little angels, too, huh”. “Yes…
and that just made me more angry.” He
said, “I know. I tend to think that God
just doesn’t like to see His babies struggle.
He doesn’t like to see them hurt and he doesn’t like to see them
suffer. It’s unfair for babies to
struggle, so I think God gives them rest.”
Ugh! That was the first time that
anyone had said anything that made me less angry. I was still incredibly hurt, but I wasn’t mad
anymore. I found peace that God had
given Jared rest. FINALLY, a reason that
helped… even just a tiny bit!
Back to the present:
I think about Jared often. There are
things that Ellie does that remind me so much of him sometimes. But other times, the words of Pastor Wheeler
roll through my mind and I wonder if Ellie is suffering. Then I go into panic mode and I plead with
God. “Please, God… don’t take my
baby. Please!! Please let me keep her and please heal her
body so that she doesn’t have to work so hard.
Please, God, please. I am not as
strong as Tracy and Josh… I’m not. I
need her to be okay. I need her to be
okay. I need her to be okay.” Driving home I just kept repeating this as
tears streamed down my face. Inside, I
know that God never “takes” people from our lives. That’s not the kind of God we serve. He simply gives them rest. How selfish am I that I don’t want Ellie to
rest? I want her to fight… fight like
crazy. And she’s doing just that – like a
champ. I know that God has plans for her
and plans to work through her (which He is already doing in ways that amaze
me). There is nothing more terrifying
than handing your child over for a procedure when you know that there is a big
risk involved. But I also know that what
I’m pleading for and scared of is what every parent feels. They may not be handing their baby over to
surgeons, but maybe they’re handing over a set of keys to an eager
teenager. Maybe they’re dropping their daughter
off at college. Maybe they’re sitting
bedside while their child goes through chemo.
I know that I’m not alone in my prayers… I’m not the only one who pleads
to God for the sake of her children. I
know that this is something that every parent in the world does… and I take
comfort in that.
Friday is going to be another big day for Ellie, and again,
I’m terrified. But I know that there is
peace that passes all understanding that lives in my heart… given as a gift
from above to keep me from pulling my hair out on hard days. I know that Ellie has many days ahead of her
yet… so much life to live yet. I hold
onto these things when I know she’s going into surgery. I know that my sweet girl will be hard to
look at when she’s out of surgery. I
know that anesthesia makes her look lifeless.
Intubation plus anesthesia brought back vivid, horrifying feelings for
me last week. I know these days are ugly
and hard and horrible. But I know these
are steps we must take because they’re the steps that make life a little easier
on our bug. If the tracheostomy lets her
breathe a little easier, it’s worth every ounce of trauma I feel. I know this is going to make breathing less laborious
for her every day. I know the G tube is
going to continue to make eating effortless for her. I was terrified two months ago when Ellie was
given an NG tube because it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t be able to
eat - something so basic. Now I know
what a blessing it’s been and I know that with a trach and g tube, she’ll have
more energy to grow and develop. Maybe
we can start to feed her again and reteach her how to use her mouth. After a while, maybe we’ll get to spoon feed
her… I cannot wait to make baby food for her.
This was one of my favorite things to do for the boys when they were
babies. She’ll get to try avocados and
bananas and pears. So while I plead with
God these days, I know I’m not alone… and I know that He’s going to give me
many more days/weeks/years to love on our baby girl and many more adventures to
plan for her (even if they’re as simple as eating from a spoon).
Okay... so that was a heavy subject... sorry. Here are some photos to lighten the mood a little ;)
Our pretty girl on 12/8
Getting a bath... she loves this time of day
Family Christmas picture with the Frozen tree
Sleepy bug
The boys helped my mom set up her Little Peoples Nativity
Kaleb at the allergist w/ my mom. He did a great job. Big guy, Kaleb!
The boys helping decorate the Christmas tree at my mom & dad's house
Lance - looking thoughtful as he bowls with Grandma & Grandpa Maier
Not bad form for a 2-year-old. Go, Kaleb!
Visiting Santa with Grandma & Grandpa Maier
Sheryl had this picture of Ellie from the Maier Thanksgiving (11/22 - just a few days before Ellie's hour-long appointment that turned into a very extended stay at Cincinnati Children's)
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