Remember

imageSometimes I forget. I’ll get flustered at the thought of physical/occupational/speech therapies from now until possibly forever. I’ll get overwhelmed at the pediatricians list of referrals to whatever speciality doctors Abigail needs to see. I’ll get freaked out about her most recent MRI images, that have no tumor (a million times yay!) but still look so grossly abnormal, full of empty space where her brain should be. I’ll get nervous about what her future might look like, if she’ll walk, talk, or have serious problems we don’t know about yet. My mind wanders into la-la land and suddenly I’m losing reality, losing gratitude, losing thankfulness. I’m forgetting.

I’m not supposed to have her.

I’m forgetting that I have Abigail when I wasn’t supposed to. Forgetting that I’m living with her, with everyone, really, on borrowed time. That she should’ve been dead or very close to it by now had those reports been right. Had the world had its way. Had she been the 99.9% of cases. I’m not supposed to have her.

But I do. And when THAT reality hits, those petty thoughts about life’s nuisances come to a screeching halt. I come crawling back to God, away from the darkness, and lay at His feet. Because gratefulness overpowers anxiety, love overpowers fear, faith overpowers uncertainty. Thank you Lord, my heart screams! I HAVE a child to take to appointments, to therapies, pump breast milk for, change diapers of, wash clothes for, snuggle with and smother with a thousand kisses a day.

Do you remember? I hear God asking… Do you remember? That ultrasound tech repeatedly scanning her brain trying to keep up the small talk. That first hint something was wrong. That first conversation, the shock, the numbness. That horrible feeling afterwards watching the world carry on while yours was crashing down. Do you remember? The sleepless nights, constant nightmares. The earth shattering sobbing, begging, pleading to keep my Abigail. That crushing, paralyzingly pain so deep it cut your soul in half. Do you remember?

It feels so very far away. But it wasn’t. I’m so sorry for those minutes that I forgot. I let life’s worries in and wreck the real life You have given to us.

We take it all for granted. I pray that You help me feel this same way with Audrey. To know and understand to be grateful for every second, even in the tantrums and defiance, when I’m about to lose it. Audrey’s life is so precious too. All life is. Take an anatomy class to appreciate how intricately complex and delicate our bodies are. Perfectly designed by our Heavenly Father, every tiny cell important. All working together like a beautifully harmonious symphony that makes you you. Mind blowing. It’s amazing to me that more doesn’t go wrong.

None of this is guaranteed. None of this is deserved. I cannot, for one second, protect my loved ones from anything. I cannot pretend that I have any element of control over anything. But God does. I need to remember to give Him my life and my heart every single day. Life can change in an instant, I know that now. And when it does, and the world comes crashing down around us, the only thing left standing is the one who created it all. Please let my heart continue to praise. Please let my attitude always be of thankfulness. Please, please don’t ever let me forget.

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