Therefore, we can look at our waits as a gift not an obstacle… Consider that every wait is a pregnancy and God is birthing something in your soul for your good and for His glory. (~L. Shadrach)
No matter what answer God gave us today with regard to my test results, He is worthy of praise.
No matter what answer God gave us today with regard to my test results, He is good.
No matter what answer God gave us today with regard to my test results, He would be glorified.
…to give Him thanks and praise.
Yesterday I drove through the still glorious autumn mountains to my 3-month follow-up with my endocrinologist (translate: thyroid doctor). I dropped off my Bella at Grandma’s house for the morning, still laughing over her comments through the drive… “Mommy, can I have your lip gloss? Because mine’s just lip BALM, and it’s really quite boring.” (Have I ever mentioned we’re doomed?) We chatted about how beautiful the sun on the trees is and we talked about how fun it was a Grandma’s.
It hit my Bear this afternoon. The reality. Mommy is going to the hospital again. He tried to talk, but his voice was shaking so much, “Buuutt, will I ggggeet to come ssssee you?” He was trying so hard to be strong and brave.
Aren’t we all in this house?
I fell to the floor and pulled him close, tucking his head under my chin, trying to hide my own tears, “Oh, Bear.” He wept for 15 minutes. “I just don’t want you to leave me again. What if you don’t come back?” he said when he could finally talk, and it took everything in me from jumping to the phone and canceling this surgery.
This will be a pretty raw post, because that’s where I am, so consider yourself forewarned.
Raw. Bloodied. Beaten. Wounded. Exhausted.
Another round begins… more scans, more blood work, more appointments, more follow up and more surgery.
It’s long and it’s complicated, and I am completely overwhelmed.
I saw a specialist this week who is sending me for several follow up scans. She’s the one that looked at me and said, “Because you’re at such a high risk for recurrence… blah, blah, blah….”
How do I do this?
That question runs through my mind at least 10 times a day. No make that 100 times a day.
I can’t even care for my house plants, much less all the flowers in our yard, much less start a small vegetable garden.
So how do I care for the children in my home? For my marriage? For my friendships? Without care they will suffer.
People ask me or Brian how I am, and my throwback answer is, “Mostly dead all day.” My body is not recovering like I hoped it would and life is beyond overwhelming. The fatigue, the pain; it’s not lifting. The infection in my arm sent me into a lupus flare.