I’m home for 8 glorious hours. It feels so good to snuggle my kids, use my own bathroom, and type on my keyboard. But being here in my normal, brings waves of how not normal and horrific life is back at the hospital.
I close my eyes and see my little girl all wired up and I feel sick. It all hurts just SO bad. Friday when Livy crashed was the most emotionally excruciating event in my life. I never knew emotional pain could hurt so bad physically. My body shook hard most of the day.
I generally try and not think about really sick kids or awful accidents, those horrible stories you hear. Now I live it, I stand on the edge of the grand canyon, toes dangling off, and I look down and have conversations with the bottom of that space.
In case you ever wonder what you would do in that place, or how on earth you would handle it, because I certainly never thought I could, let me tell you GOD IS THERE. He’s a heavy blanket of peace placed lovingly across my shoulders by the prayers of thousands around the country and world.
He is a light shining 2 steps ahead so I don’t fall. I SEE things before they happen, God gives foresight and wisdom to piece together things before the doctors see them. He is a voice to speak and ask and understand medical things in ways I KNOW are not me. God is there, in that space on the edge.
I want to tell you about those conversations, those quiet eternal ones that happened when things crashed, and she stopped breathing.
She is yours God, she is not mine.
She belongs to you.
The power of life and death is in your hands alone God.
I trust you, but I beg right now that death is not what you have for her story.
Please don’t take my little girl.
I poured my heart inside of her, and she is now tied to the beeping machines keeping her alive, OH THE BEEPING, my heart goes up and down with each one.
Is it my fear or my gut, or the enemy telling me she’s not going to make it right now?
And then he sends a text from a beloved sister, and she just saw a double rainbow.
And then my girls Gina and Darcy holding me up on each side as I sob and babbled in the hall, I walked back into that room with totally new strength and hope last Friday that has not left me.
I believe He has life planned for her.
I smile more than the doctors do. Michelle tells me it will rub off on them.
And she fights HARD.
They say she can hear and feel so I tell her to fight like hell. Yup, I do.
She does, she fights too hard, she’s REALLY hard to keep sedated.
She comes in and out and shakes her head no.
She’s pissed, and I love her for it.
And somehow we are magically in the only level 1 Trauma unit within 500 miles, BEFORE she crashed.
And God sent almost all her family from across the country and world to love on her and us, plus a stead stream of innumerable messages and friends lifting us up.
Because if this happened to you, let me tell you
It really does.
So don’t be afraid of your life, hold on to hope, and take courage again.