Today at 9am, marks two years since the life saving lung-removal operation for our son. It is an emotionally charged day. I woke up this morning anticipating that this day may be hard and recalled, "my son was so close to death today. Today, he was as good as gone." Whether that was the truth or not (since I am clearly not a medical professional but rather a heart-torn mom), those were the thoughts that crossed my mind two-years ago and remain with me. Today in church, they played the song that I heard on the radio the day I was driving down to bring our son home...tears. They played a song about the air in our lungs--which God clearly GAVE Oliver...tears. Tears being reminded of the painful moments leading up to surgery day. Tears of joy when we heard our son made it through surgery and was doing well.
On the outside, I may appear well but inside my heart is breaking and mourning. I remember almost every detail of surgery day so clearly--how I felt, the weather outside, what I wore, the "trolley" "comfort cart" that came to visit us in the waiting room during the surgery. These powerful, humbling, sad moments are still present. I remember watching the clock wondering when we would hear anything about our son's surgery progress. I remember searching for the same word over and over again in my "word search" unable to focus. Moving forward to present...
How do I reconcile this day that happened two years ago with our son's now amazing progress? Today he is happy, mostly healthy (besides the colds that rattle his chest) and meeting many of his adjusted-age milestones (besides fine motor skills).
I DO NOT want this season of his life--his amazing birth, life-saving surgery to define him, to become who he is BUT....but, it will forever be part of my journey. How do I process these events, these milestones without projecting them on him? The day I was admitted to the hospital in the end of March; the day we learned he had hydrops; the moment we were told he had 50% chance of survival; the day he was born and the horrific unknowns that were laid before us. How do I deal with days/milestones like today--surgery day-- and his upcoming "breathing day" when his breathing tube was removed and he cried for the first time? These moments are part of my journey (and his too) but I just don't know how to handle them...where to put those emotions. How do I "celebrate" them without these moments becoming our son's identity?
Over time I am sure it will get better. I certainly try not to dwell on this past history but somehow my body remembers and my mind quickly catches up. My body reacts to things like my daughter's dress I was trying to donate, which is clearly too small, but I just couldn't bring myself to donate...why? It was the dress she wore when she visited her brother for the first time two-years ago. So, the dress remains hanging in her closet. Weird and strange things like this pop-up unexpectedly. I guess it is part of the process. This season set aside, we are doing well. Outside this concentrated few months, we hardly think about the details leading up the this day. But in this season, we are brought back to the place were God did a miracle...where God heard us and answered our prayers in astounding ways. I am thankful for this hard season of reflection because how could we NOT praise God for what He did? It was only by His grace and favor that our son lives today. We were ready to accept that our son would be with Jesus but God had another plan. It is a reminder of how close were were to HIM and how HE desires us to be close with Him like that in every day, in every season and in every way. It is convicting; it is good and it is a blessing to have this day--surgery day--to point is all back the the Creator. He truly is in control of life and death and today--two years ago--He choose LIFE for our son. I will forever sing HIM praises for this and share this story of God's great love and great intervention.
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