The dreaded moment had arrived. They placed the gas mask over my daughter's face and restrained her efforts to get off the surgery table. I stood as close as I could to her little body and offered vacant words of comfort, holding her hand and telling her it was going to be okay. Her terrified screaming soon turned to soft crying as the affects of the sleeping gas took place. Her tense body went limp and doctors carefully laid her head on the table. The nurse quickly ushered us out of the room and back to our belongings. "We'll come get you when it's done. Please try not to worry. We promise to take good care of your daughter."
I bit the sides of my cheeks to restrain the waterworks building up in my throat. How do I not worry? I just entrusted the life of my daughter into the hands of people I just met this morning: nurses, doctors, anesthesiologists. Perhaps routine to them, but not to me. How can you ever feel comfortable walking away from your sedated child on the operating table?
My emotions threatened to take over my body. I sucked in a deep breath and began to focus on controlling the sobs that wanted to escape. "Are you okay?" Glenn asked. I couldn't answer for fear of completely breaking down. I nodded my head, and we walked to the cafeteria. I silently prayed, cried out, for Peace to overtake my racing heart. Why couldn't I relax? Why was I so anxious? Sure, I knew all the verses in my head about "asking and receiving," "not being anxious about anything," "trusting in the Lord with all my heart..." My eyes started to well up with tears as I tried to shovel a fork full of runny scrambled eggs into my mouth. Glenn looked up, somewhat uncomfortable with my emotions in the middle of the busy cafeteria and said, "Christine, just focus on your food." I looked down at my plate, no longer hungry, and pleaded in my head, "God, please. Just please. I can't even pray right now. I don't have the words." For all the knowledge in my head about God, for all the words I had at my disposal, I lacked all ability to transfer that into a heart-felt, faith filled prayer. For all my years of walking in faith and having a relationship with God, why couldn't I just grab a hold of Peace and know deep in my heart that it was going to be okay?
As we walked back to the family waiting area, we were surprisingly greeted in the hallway by Aleena's doctor/surgeon. My heart flip-flopped as I listened to the diagnosis- another venous malformation. Not cancerous. Not a tumor. Not life-threatening. Actually, the lump was an extension of the same one from last summer. Our daughter was in recovery, and we could see her shortly. I breathed a half sigh of relief. Not until I had my daughter in my arms again could I relax.
Five minutes later, we were ushered into the recovery unit, and the moment I passed through the doors, I could hear a familiar angry scream echoing down the hall. "Oh God, that's my daughter," I thought. As we rounded the corner, there she was, literally fighting the nurse trying to throw herself off the hospital bed. Gown undone, arms flailing, the nurse was restraining a very angry three year old. Aleena was trying to rip out her IV, tear off the chest wires, pull off the oxygen pulse monitor...it was not a pretty sight. She was sobbing inconsolably, and quickly we went to her bedside. The nurse gave me a sympathetic look as I rushed to try to hold Aleena. The fit of rage lasted for a while longer until they finally gave her medicine to reduce the pain and calm her little body. After what felt like hours (but in reality was only 10 minutes), my daughter snuggled quietly in my arms watching Nick Jr. on the small TV and ate an orange Popsicle.
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I've replayed my daughter's fit of rage in my head quite a few times. She had come out of the anesthesia prematurely and as a result was an angry, inconsolable mess. I just wanted to comfort her. I just wanted her to settle down in my arms and know that she was loved and everything was going to be okay...and here's the thing- I have a feeling that God probably wanted to do the very same thing for me in my moment of panic and anxiousness. I can picture Him offering me His loving arms of peace and comfort. "Over here, Christine. Sit with me and rest. I've got you in My arms. I have Aleena, too. Don't worry. It's okay. You can settle, " perhaps He would have said. But, I never heard Him because I was too busy flailing my arms, allowing anxiousness to keep me distracted, and allowing worry to restrain me. My own fears clogged my ears, prevented me from settling down- as if I was throwing my own kind of "coming out of anesthesia" tirade. Now I understand why Peace had difficulty bringing any type of comfort. I was inconsolable, and needed a good dose of calming medicine before I could actually hear clearly....And, just like I tell Aleena, I can now tell myself, "You can try again next time. Learn from this, and know that next time, things can be different."
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Finding Gratefulness in the Ashes
I walked into the phlebotomy lab in a rush. My most recent specialist (the hematologist) requested a plethora of tests to be done, and I had exactly an hour before needing to be at another doctor's appointment. The lady behind the check-in window paid no attention. And despite only one other person being in front of me, it was a solid 15 minutes before I was even called up to check in. I kept track of the time, glancing at my watch every few minutes or so wondering how much longer I'd have to wait for my needle sticking. Finally, the lady behind the desk called me back. After some brief chit-chat, she stuck my left arm and began digging around. I cringed in pain, as she tried to tap the shifting and dehydrated vein. At last, she pulled the needle out and said, "Other arm, I guess." Great, I thought. This lady is driving me crazy! Then, she did the unthinkable...
"Do you know what you are having?" she asked.
"A girl," I replied casually. "This will be my second daughter."
"Oh, I had two girls. I have a son who was born at 34 weeks. He was premature and is still underweight to this day! I also have a daughter who is ten months old now."
"You said you have two girls and a son?" I asked.
She paused for a moment and said, "No, I only have my son and my daughter."
"Oh," I said quietly. I had thought for sure she said she had two girls.
...She drained tube after tube of my blood, and despite a quick moment of silence, she unloaded her pain, refilling my veins with her story.
"I had four miscarriages in between my son and 10 month old daughter. One of the babies I lost at 17 weeks; she was a girl. I never wanted to get pregnant again after that, but it happened. Eight months later I got pregnant with my daughter, and my husband was certain that it wasn't his. He left me right before my daughter was born. You see, I have a blood disorder that caused me to miscarry so my times. Once they figured out my disorder, they were able to give me medicine, and I was able to carry my daughter full term. They even told me that my son is a miracle that he made it as long as he did without me on medicine. Well, after my husband found out that I had a blood disorder and that my daughter was actually his...he fought me for full custody of her."
I sat stunned, watching the butterfly needle in my arm. My heart hurt for her. "I'm so sorry," I managed. "That is a heartbreaking story. Do you have family in the area?"
"No family. I got divorced and I've been on my own for almost two years now with my kids. It's hard, but I'm making ends meet."
I didn't know what to say. I managed to put something together about having faith and family to get you through tough times and how she was better off without a husband who could be so cruel. But, the truth is, I was still stuck on the fact that she had unloaded her story on me, and that her tragedies and trials were so beyond what I'd experienced in my lifetime. I had been so self absorbed in my own world, only looking at the trials and tribulations that I had most recently endured. I forgot that there are other people out there who have endured way more than I ever could handle in this world.
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Why do some people seem to coast through life and others seem to avoid tragedy and hardships? Why do some people get to stay married for 53 years and go on "Couples Wheel of Fortune," while others lose their spouse to cancer after only 33 1/2? Why do some couples get to have 5 kids while others struggle with infertility for five years and never see the dream of having their own children fulfilled? There are so many more questions that I could ask, but the truth is that I can't answer any of them.
The only comfort I can gather is that I'm not God, and I don't see the big picture in every circumstance. I'm not responsible for answering the "why?" but, I am responsible for how I live each day. I have three choices: I can focus on all of the hard trials that I have endured, all of the pain that I have walked through, and all of the things I don't have in my life... I can focus on how other people seem to coast through life, don't have to endure nearly what I've been through, and get to have what I only dream of having... Or, I can focus on all that I do have in my life, all of the beauty that has come from the ashes, and the way that God can work out even the most difficult things for good in my life. One option allows me to wallow in self pity, one option takes the focus off myself and causes me to be continually envious of others, and one option allows me to develop a heart of gratefulness, even in the very midst of uncertainty and hardship.
It's funny- I'm realizing now that God is teaching me (in my 30s) the same lesson I am teaching my 3 year old. "You have a choice," I hear myself saying to Aleena.
And suddenly, I hear God saying the same thing. "You have a choice in how you are going to approach each day." We may not have control over our circumstances, and we may not have answers to the many questions that we ask when walking through hard times. But, we do have control over our attitude and our choices - and perhaps, despite the pain of circumstance, that's the key to living each day with gratefulness in our hearts.
"Do you know what you are having?" she asked.
"A girl," I replied casually. "This will be my second daughter."
"Oh, I had two girls. I have a son who was born at 34 weeks. He was premature and is still underweight to this day! I also have a daughter who is ten months old now."
"You said you have two girls and a son?" I asked.
She paused for a moment and said, "No, I only have my son and my daughter."
"Oh," I said quietly. I had thought for sure she said she had two girls.
...She drained tube after tube of my blood, and despite a quick moment of silence, she unloaded her pain, refilling my veins with her story.
"I had four miscarriages in between my son and 10 month old daughter. One of the babies I lost at 17 weeks; she was a girl. I never wanted to get pregnant again after that, but it happened. Eight months later I got pregnant with my daughter, and my husband was certain that it wasn't his. He left me right before my daughter was born. You see, I have a blood disorder that caused me to miscarry so my times. Once they figured out my disorder, they were able to give me medicine, and I was able to carry my daughter full term. They even told me that my son is a miracle that he made it as long as he did without me on medicine. Well, after my husband found out that I had a blood disorder and that my daughter was actually his...he fought me for full custody of her."
I sat stunned, watching the butterfly needle in my arm. My heart hurt for her. "I'm so sorry," I managed. "That is a heartbreaking story. Do you have family in the area?"
"No family. I got divorced and I've been on my own for almost two years now with my kids. It's hard, but I'm making ends meet."
I didn't know what to say. I managed to put something together about having faith and family to get you through tough times and how she was better off without a husband who could be so cruel. But, the truth is, I was still stuck on the fact that she had unloaded her story on me, and that her tragedies and trials were so beyond what I'd experienced in my lifetime. I had been so self absorbed in my own world, only looking at the trials and tribulations that I had most recently endured. I forgot that there are other people out there who have endured way more than I ever could handle in this world.
********************************************************************************************
Why do some people seem to coast through life and others seem to avoid tragedy and hardships? Why do some people get to stay married for 53 years and go on "Couples Wheel of Fortune," while others lose their spouse to cancer after only 33 1/2? Why do some couples get to have 5 kids while others struggle with infertility for five years and never see the dream of having their own children fulfilled? There are so many more questions that I could ask, but the truth is that I can't answer any of them.
The only comfort I can gather is that I'm not God, and I don't see the big picture in every circumstance. I'm not responsible for answering the "why?" but, I am responsible for how I live each day. I have three choices: I can focus on all of the hard trials that I have endured, all of the pain that I have walked through, and all of the things I don't have in my life... I can focus on how other people seem to coast through life, don't have to endure nearly what I've been through, and get to have what I only dream of having... Or, I can focus on all that I do have in my life, all of the beauty that has come from the ashes, and the way that God can work out even the most difficult things for good in my life. One option allows me to wallow in self pity, one option takes the focus off myself and causes me to be continually envious of others, and one option allows me to develop a heart of gratefulness, even in the very midst of uncertainty and hardship.
It's funny- I'm realizing now that God is teaching me (in my 30s) the same lesson I am teaching my 3 year old. "You have a choice," I hear myself saying to Aleena.
And suddenly, I hear God saying the same thing. "You have a choice in how you are going to approach each day." We may not have control over our circumstances, and we may not have answers to the many questions that we ask when walking through hard times. But, we do have control over our attitude and our choices - and perhaps, despite the pain of circumstance, that's the key to living each day with gratefulness in our hearts.
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