The worst is behind us, they say. And I'm hoping they're right.
It doesn't make it hurt any less but I'm glad to say that the surgery is behind us and I'm hoping to begin to find the pieces so we can put them back together. It was almost too much to take in as we drove home to Northfield this afternoon. There was a really dark cloud directly above us that was sprinkling just enough to notice it's splash on the windshield. But ahead of us was blue sky and beautiful big white clouds. You know, the ones you imagine shapes and animals among. It was almost as if we were getting through the worst of it and heading towards the light - as if the light was going to bring us healing. But as I sat in the car with my eyes full of tears, I believed it. And I am hopeful that we are moving towards the healing phase.
It was a rough morning preparing for surgery. I hate pity and everyone was wearing it. Of all the doctors and nurses who came in to prep me, start my IV, take my blood, check my vitals, make me sign the consent forms, ask me questions and keep me company, not one came into the room without the most awful aura of pity surrounding them. I think it would have taken just one more person to walk through the door with that look on their face and I would have lost it. I was trying my hardest to think about other things and forget why we were doing this, and they weren't helping. Bless their sweet souls, I am happy they were nice to me. I just hate pity.
I kept it together until after I came out of surgery. I remember waking up to one of the nurses ripping off one of my heart monitors from my chest and it was the most awful shock. It hurt. And it hurt enough to wake me up enough to remember exactly what I was doing there. I don't know why it happened then but the emotion of everything up to that point caught up with me and I wept quietly in my recovery room for a long time. I remember hearing one of the nurses tell another one that she thought it was time to let my family come in to be with me. And it wasn't a minute later and there they were.
The recovery has been much more emotional than physical. My body is doing what the medication is telling it to do. If only my spirit had some kind of medication to follow its directions. But there is a sense of relief that the physical part is all over and it's time to heal.
Time is the only thing they say will help. But I've found a lot of comfort in hearing from people who have had similar experiences. I think those people have forced me to move beyond questioning what I did to cause this and to realize we don't always have control over what happens even when we're doing everything right in the drivers seat. I worry about what February will bring when our lives were supposed to change forever. And I worry a bit about how it will feel to pass certain mile markers in the next year that were going to be much different than they are now. My birthday, Mother's Day, our family trip to Russia...we've imagined a year of events filled with the giggles of our little Valentine. But I know we must move on. I'm not sure what it will look like, how we'll feel or what our year will bring but I am happy we have each other and I am going to be okay with that for now.
We have a little angel watching over us now. We're heartbroken we never got to meet him but we'll hold him in our hearts forever.
We cannot thank our parents, families, and friends enough for their undying love and support. We could not get through this any of this without you and we appreciate it more than we'll ever be able to express.
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