I get teary eyed at the thought of not being able to feed her when she cries for me that morning, the IV, and watching her tiny body go into such a huge machine. As a nurse, so much of this shouldn't scare me at all and I know it could be so, so much worse, but as a mom, I'm terrified. As hopeful as I am, I'm still afraid of the results. I'm afraid of finding out something very serious could be going on and I'm also afraid of not knowing. I believe she can see, I know that for sure, but beyond that I just don't know. I'm hopeful it's a delay but realistic enough that it could be more than that. Regardless of my emotions my faith in her creation and her Creator remains steadfast, of that I am sure.
As I've watched her lately, I notice more and more what a hard time she seems to have latching onto whatever it is she seems to be wanting to focus on. Her head bobbles from immature neck muscles and her eyes appear aimless as they dart about. I usually can't tell what it is she's even trying to look at it, but once she gets it, once she locks focus and her efforts are rewarded, her gummy grin, sparking eyes, dimples and a coo that surprises even her, tell me that she got it and what she worked so hard to see was worth it. Those tender moments are one of the brightest parts of my day and they tell me, that whatever this all is, she's willing to put forth the effort for the reward.
How often am I like that? I know what I should be focusing on and I allow myself to dart about, getting sidetracked by sometimes the most insignificant things like a spot on the tile or crumbs that need sweeping, when I previously told my 2 year old that I was coming to sit and play with her. How often do I decide to check my email or start a load of laundry when I was headed for quiet time?
I'm being taught, through Adley, to focus. To invest in being focused, to make the effort, stabilize my wobbly neck and engage in what matters. To calm the darting and be still. Be still for my family and be still and know that He is God.
I had to add a picture ;). Maybe I'll take the time to edit Matt's arm from holding her up but in a way I like it there. After all, that is what we do for our kids, stabilize them until they move freely erect on their own.
Elyse really does adore her. It may wear off but I try to model a love for her sister, a love I hope Elyse adopts as her own and feels worthy of sharing in.
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1 comment:
Of course Adley will be in our thoughts and prayers. Thankfully she's young, so she won't remember any of this. Unfortunately, you will remember every minute detail but I suppose that comes with the title of mom. She will do just fine and this will be a story you can tell her when she's a teenager. It's never easy... I know. Just know that others have been there before and seek support when you need it.
Just keep things in perspective and try to focus on all the other good things in your lives. You have so much love and support, any many shoulders to lean on. Hang in there... this too shall pass. =)
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