Last night was a sacred moment.
It was not how I was expecting it, it was not how I planned it.
For those that know me, you know I am a planner. Her birthday was officially the two mark month since the original heart attack and hospital admission. So it has officially been two months since I have had to give up my comforting illusion of control. Granted, I know we all have significantly less control than we like to imagine, that has just become a very real fact for my family in the past two months. When we finally felt like my mom would actually live, I had a grand plan. She was going to get better, come home, and if she wanted she could be baptized at our really awesome service in Lake Michigan. What a great story and testament to hope and faith. We could all come and sob our faces off and celebrate the life we thought would end too soon. Too bad I am not the ultimate story writer.
As you know, the story unfolded differently. Home has not yet been our destination and it may not be. Truth be told, that story was way more about me than my mom. I wanted her to live and to walk in that water. My mom hates sand and being in front of any large group of people. I just wanted to cling to any story of victory.
So last night we celebrated my mom's birthday, and even bigger than that, we celebrated her baptism. It was not sandy or lofty, but it was sacred. We crowded in that itty-bitty hospital room. Her oxygen bubbler set the mood and her IV pump kept beeping. But regardless of these things, my mom closed her eyes and let the tears fall as she was baptized. The tears fell as she was reminded of God's great love for her, as she was reminded of the God that will not abandon her or leave her alone. She was reminded of the promises she has known for a long time, but needed to hear and remember more now than ever.
My mom looked so beautiful, with her now staple headband braid and all.
My mom was only able to make it through my cousin's letter and asked if we could read ours at a different time. I get it, we were all getting a bit dehydrated. My favorite part of my cousin's letter was the part thanking my mom for closing her eyes every time she hugs her son, like she wants the moment to last forever. I wanted to do that last night. I wanted to hold onto every last tear and every hug with my mom. I want to cherish these moments that are not a guarantee. I want to revel in the fact that my illusion of control has been ripped to shreds and truly live like every day matters. While I might think I am capable of writing a freaking awesome story, I want to rest in the peace that it is not my job. It is my job to live this story to the fullest. It is my job to cry hard and then laugh hard as the emotions wash over us. It is my job to celebrate the time we have been given and to grieve the time we lose. It is my job to love and to live.
So that I shall do. I shall lift up my shirt and let me sisters feel my baby move, even when I feel silly. I will go to the baby showers that make me so nervous, and I will let people celebrate me and my unborn babe. I will cry when people ask me about my mom, because I have decided there is not an inappropriate time to cry any more. All times are now considered appropriate in my book. Maybe I should wear a shirt with a warning related to that decision. FYI this chick will sob her face off. If you ask a question you better want a real answer.
While I will still fail many times, I will take small steps to live this out of control life with grace, hope, and peace.
We have our "amp" surgery on Monday. This is the residents cool way of saying amputation. It is a scary and necessary next step. My mom will lose half of her foot, but should still be able to walk. Please pray for peace as they have not yet decided what type of anesthesia to use. She waffles back and forth between the fear of hearing the bone saw and the fear of intubation/extubation. We have also started the testing process for the heart transplant evaluation. Please pray for no hiccups and that we do not discover anything else going on that we didn't know about.
Thank you for your love and prayers. She has the photo albums at her bedside along with the notes that she goes through as she can. There cannot be a doubt in her mind that she is loved.
***Update: Yesterday was a long, hard day. The surgery that was scheduled for 1 pm didn't happen until 8 or 9 at night. Please pray for healing today, and not just for her body. Will update more after connecting with specialty physicians and knowing next steps in our plan of care.***