I recognize that tree.

I want to thank everyone for their kind words of encouragement concerning my last post.  Craig still has a job for now – and we are hoping it stays that way – but if not – we’ll just deal with that as it comes.

I also want to add that I didn’t intend for that post to be political in anyway.  When I became a citizen, one of the things that I found pride in, was the fact that I lived in a country where I could live, work and exist with others who had very different opinions than me. It’s a beautiful thing to know that you can debate and embrace with the same person in the same moment.

Let’s not forget that.

In other news….

Evan and I have been busy at doctor appointments.   We’re gearing up for a jam packed day today of pre-op visits and specialists appointments.

I’m going through all of this almost numb.  Zombie like.  Very “Walking Dead” – minus the zombie eating, apocalyptic type stuff.

But, I’m just going through this….with very little emotion.

I’ve also shut down….almost completely…from people I love.

I can’t avoid my family because – well – I see them too much.

I have been ignoring emails and text messages and Facebook messages.

Not because I want to…I just can’t bring myself to talk to anyone.

You know when you watch movies or your read a book and there’s that part of the story where the character is lost.  And she keeps on walking the same path over and over again and she says in her head or outloud, “Hey, I recognize that tree!”  It’s because she’s been taking the same steps over and over again…and no matter how far or how close she thinks she is to her destination…she really is just wandering aimlessly.

That’s me right now.

I thought for sure after Evan’s open heart surgery a couple of months ago, I’d be a little further along in this journey for him.

But, now that we are faced with another big surgery – cleft lip, possible g-tube, possible “other” (we’ll talk about this later), I realize….”Hey, I recognize that tree!”

The tree that I keep going round and round.  The one that holds every fear.  The one that has branches and leaves of every doubt, every ache for my boy, every piece of anger, everything that I faced with his first surgery.

That same tree….

I can’t believe we are a week out.  I’m sitting here in the wee hours of the morning…drinking my coffee, Evan playing with his toys and yelling at me to get off the computer, as we wait for his favorite person – our Iz – to wake up so they can play.

And I can’t believe that today…I’ll sit in pre-op for Evan – blood work, vitals, the whole enchilada.

And then, a week from today, God willing, we’ll be handing our boy over once again.  I’ll ask the care team – each nurse, the anesthesiologist, the surgeon – to please protect him.  To please keep my boy safe.  To please return our Evan back to me better than when I hand him over….nothing short of that.

I’ll sit and wait.  And pray over and over again…

God…please.  God, please keep him safe.  Please keep his heart safe.  Please keep each organ safe.  Please keep his brain safe.  Please keep his body free from infection – any and all infection.  Please keep his body clear of blood clots.  Please keep his body safe of bleeding.  Please guide the surgeons.  Please guide their hands and their minds.  Please protect my boy in recovery.  Please protect him.  Please keep him safe.  Please, God, please.

I’ll say these things over and over and over again until we bring our boy home.

I’ll beg every one of you to please say the same prayers.  To please ask others to pray for him.

I can’t handle people saying to me, “Well…he made it through open heart surgery…this will be a piece of cake!”

Don’t say that to me…ever.

Evan is extremely special – his diagnosis making him prone to infection.  His heart making his risks for anesthesia and surgeries just that much more serious.

I have every faith in my boy and every faith in my God that Evan will do well.  I have to remind myself of that…but it’s so very difficult…..

I’m still just a girl….standing in front of her God…asking Him to protect him.  My boy.

No parent should ever have to hand their child over for surgery.  No parent should ever have to walk the corridors of a hospital after the swinging doors to the operating room shut….with nothing but prayers holding them together.

I’ve done that…I’ve handed over 6 times already.

First – when he left my arms after birth, January 22.

Second – his first heart catheter, March 7th.

Third – heart surgery, March 8th.

Fourth – emergency heart catheter, March 9th.

Fifth – heart catheter – August 17th

Sixth – first open heart surgery – August 27th.

Each of those day…my heart stopped for a moment.  Each of those days a piece of me was taken.  Each of those days I had to ask my God to perform another miracle and beg him to let me keep my boy.

And next week…

I’ll walk around aimlessly, waiting for the beautiful words, “The surgery is done.  He’s doing great…we’ll see you in recovery,”  I’ll walk around that tree…

Another day, in this journey – measured by the minutes of each phone call from the operating room that gives me the latest update.

Another day of prayer…another day of hope…another day of faith in my God that He’ll see my boy through this.

 

 

 

 

Comments

  1. I was led to this while looking for the phrase “been around that tree.” I ache for you, as a PURE mom myself. Praying that God will see your boy (and YOU! through this). Thank you for sharing your raw and pure emotions…it can only help all of us.