So, I aliken this experience to a really grueling race. One that has a start, but the finish is unknown. A race that has huge hills, and racing valleys. A race filled with enormous boulders, slippery gravel, and thick mud. There are no marshals along the route. No sweepers at the back. No cell phones to call back up. No medical teams to whisk you off if you fall.
And the race is hard. It's the toughest ever.
What do you do?
Collapse into a heap and just stay where you are forever?
Me? I am not a quitter. I have to just move on. Keep going. My nature, actually, is go just persist, as hard I can... quite frankly, to get it over and done with. There are days when that's what I want... just to be finished. Over. But in a race, the most rewarding part is knowing that you finished the race... not because you finished it, but because you took part. You gave it all you had.
Someone pointed out to me today that perhaps when the race is at it's hardest, what I could do is take in the scenery. Enjoy the view. Chat to a friend along the way. Make something out of it, when all seems lost.
How is it that people endure the hardships they do? We're nothing special, really. There are people who have suffered far more than Russ and I.
I confess there are days I am FURIOUS. With the doctors, with myself, with other peoples happiness, with God. But I know that I cannot stay in that place. And I know that it doesn't change anything. This is what it is. That's all there is to it, really. And part of what this IS... is a little, beautiful, innocent child. With kissable lips, delicate fingers, a perfect nose, a mop of dark hair, denim blue eyes. She has skin so soft, I cannot stop touching it. I love to bury my nose in her soft hair, and smell the babyness of her. And you know, my race is so insignificant compared with hers. She is the fighter. She is the strong one. And while I have my moments of doubting whether God is holding me in the palm of His hand, I believe with all my might that He is holding Mikayla.... who wouldn't want to hold such a treasure?
Someone said to me today, that the best part (they have a completely different circumstance, and yet completely the same circumstance to what we are experiencing) about their little boys life (who is sick), is that they don't get to make the decision about whether he goes or stays in this world. And I guess she's right on some level. After all, that's an enormous responsibility- one that I'd rather not take. And so I have to trust this over to God. Whether I like it or not.
Mikayla has been so good today. She is awake around 1 1/2 hours at her feed times, and then very sleepy in between. She quite happily goes off to sleep on her own. She still hasn't done a poo... it's been a few days now. She is quite fussy at times... I am not sure if it's cos she is uncomfortable due to the lack of poo, or just general grumpiness; but for the most part she is a quiet, good little baby. No apneas. Breathing still labored. Another day...
Love you Mickey!! :-)