Heal these scars

Some people have scars that cannot be hidden, ones that mark their bodies in a way that they cannot cover up. Others stare at the mismatched flesh on their faces, their heads, their arms, or their hands, and wonder what tragedy caused them to carry that reminder around forever.

For the rest of us, life deals us whatever set of circumstances that leaves us wounded inside, where no one can see. Every one of us is left scarred in our own way, each to our own extent.

It can be easy to conveniently forget about the pain that caused these injuries, or the fact that you need to deal with them, when they don't stare back at you in the mirror every day. But sometimes, they come screaming back to the surface when you least expect it.

It's not always a bad thing, though.

I'll explain.

Some friends of ours had their first baby on Thursday night. I used my lunch break on Friday to go visit them at the hospital and take them a gift. The new baby was adorable. He slept with a sweet little smirk on his face and just seemed so happy. I was really glad for my friends as the new mom talked about how the baby was barely fussing, was nursing like a champ, was perfectly healthy....

But....there are these other feelings. Like the fact that I wanted to cry in that room, because everything was so relaxed, without everyone worried about things like, "Oh, the baby won't eat, what's going on with this, she doesn't want to eat...." "Nursing just isn't working right now, we're going to have to go ahead and supplement...." "She isn't strong enough for this bottle, you're going to have to feed her from this syringe..." "She has a heart murmur, she's going to need an echo, we can't discharge her until it's been sent up to Dallas to be evaluated by the pediatric cardiologists there...."

It's hard to explain exactly how I was feeling, because I wasn't expecting it at all. Sad, because this baby was only 18 hours old, and their family was already having experiences we were somewhat cheated out of? Or does that make me jealous?

At any rate, it's simple to say that as wonderful and incredible as Brooklyn is, our life with her as a baby has not been what most people would consider normal, although it continues to improve all the time. It was not what I expected or pictured when I imagined having a newborn. I have a million and one beautiful memories. But I have a lot that have also, I guess, scarred me as well.

So, this sweet baby's mom asked me if I wanted to hold him. Of course I did. But I have not held a brand new little one since Brooklyn. I took him in my arms and sat down in the chair by the window and let the sun warm my face. The most peaceful feeling had overcome me, pushing away the stress that I usually cannot rid myself of. The baby boy smirked and smiled and made his tiny baby squeaks as I rocked him back and forth. I just let myself feel....relaxed and calm and happy.

And I started thinking.

Time doesn't heal all wounds. Maybe a better experience, a second chance, is what really does.

I feel like time isn't the answer. More than three years since I had delivered my daughter, I was standing there in that recovery room ready to bawl. I felt like I needed to cover my scars like the man who is ashamed of his old wounds that stay exposed for the world to see.

So, for the very first time since having my daughter, I thought that I might be ready to try to have another child. The thought has not so much as crossed my mind in three years; when other people ask me about it, it completely overwhelms me. I can't handle it, I think. But the reason is, my brain has always automatically thought that everything would be just the same as it was the first time for us. We don't know parenthood any other way.

My worries are many.

But I have hope. I have faith that it could be different this time.

And I want to heal these scars.

Prayers for a friend

I just wanted to ask everyone one to keep Ava and her sweet mommy Hope in your thoughts and prayers. Ava has been inpatient at Cincinnati Children's Hospital all week having all kinds of tests and procedures so that her doctors can figure out exactly what is wrong and how to treat her. So far, the tests have revealed a few "new" problems for little Ava. She is also having a hard time with the anesthesia that they keep having to give her and is having issues with her heart rate and seizures because of it.

Hope found my blog not long after I began writing it. Little Ava has laryngomalacia, as we came to find out that Brooklyn has as well (Hope has called Ava and Brooklyn "malacia buddies." Cute!). She has been a great source of support for me and I am so thankful for her friendship. She is one of the only people that I have felt like completely understands everything we have been through with Brooklyn. I don't know anyone in real life who has been through what we have been through. Hope, you have been so wonderful. I wish I could be there with you this week.

Please pray with me that the doctors will be able to figure out exactly what Ava's medical needs are. Pray that she will stop having reactions to the anesthesia and that these procedures won't cause her any pain or discomfort. Pray for peace and strength for Hope because it is so ridiculously stressful to have a baby in the hospital, especially when you don't know what is wrong. Brooklyn has had a lot of these same tests and procedures and I know that it is so hard to watch your little baby be put through all of this. Also, please pray for wisdom for Ava's doctors - that they will be able to discern what Ava needs and take care of her in the best way possible.

And I'm sure Hope wouldn't mind if you stopped by her blog and let her know that you are thinking of her and Ava!

Of healing....

Our friend who was in a terrible car accident remained in a coma for over a month. A couple of weeks ago, he woke up from his deep sleep. Since then, he has been moved to a rehabilitation hospital in Dallas. Each day, he gains strength. Every day, he accomplishes something new.

We have talked to him on the phone twice now. He sounds remarkably like his "old self." He has a long way to go though. He has suffered a traumatic brain injury. But the progress he has made so far is absolutely incredible. It is unbelievable that he was at death's door not even two months ago. And a month ago, no one knew if he would ever awaken from his coma. And here he is. Amazing. I have never seen such evidence of the power of prayer before.

Yesterday, on the way to my mother's house to pick up Brooklyn, I drove past the tree that our friend wrapped his truck around on that rainy December day. There are many deep gashes in it, large cuts that expose the light yellowy pulp, a stark contrast to the dark brown bark.

It is wounded. But it still stands strong. Just like our dear friend.

In time, they will both heal.

The other side of her

So, I have this coworker who I USED to be very close friends with. I will call her Amy. She started working here about nine months before I became pregnant with Brooklyn. I helped her learn her job and was a friend to her when she wasn't fitting into the little clique on her floor. We went out to lunch and ran errands together a lot. We started walking around downtown together during our lunch hour to get some exercise. We hung out at work every day and talked on the phone most days too.

By the time I got pregnant with Brooklyn, Amy was one of my closest friends. She was one of the first people to find out the night I got my BFP. She was so excited with me, she screamed with happiness and talked on and on about how great it was going to be. "Oh my God," she said. "I can't wait. We're going to throw you a baby shower. We'll have so much fun shopping for baby clothes. We'll paint a big smiley face on your belly and take pictures of it. I want to hold the baby and give the baby a bottle. This is going to be so much fun!"

And it was. Amy calmed my first trimester freakout fears. She helped me decorate Brooklyn's nursery. She did co-host my baby shower. She bought us an expensive baby gift, even when I told her not to. I invited her to be one of the 10 people we could bring to my 3D sonogram.

I was there for her too. I babysat her son. My husband went to her son's "Grandfriends" day at school with him because he didn't have an adult besides Amy to be there with him. She was going through a lot of problems with her son's father and a major custody battle ensued. Her son started having behavioral problems. I was her support. She would always call me to cry and vent and yell about her ex, her son, and other things too.

Amy was at the hospital to see Brooklyn within hours of her birth. She came to see her the next day, also. We had to go to my office to fill out some paperwork when Brooklyn was a week old. Amy held her for an hour and wouldn't let anyone else take a turn. But then, my maternity leave had begun, and I stopped hearing from Amy. I think she called me two or three times for the entire twelve weeks that I was off. During those conversations, she would tell me that she was going to come over. But she never did. And I needed her. We were having such a hard time. Brooklyn had feeding and weight gain problems. Then the reflux started. Then the respiratory problems kicked in, and we didn't know what was wrong with her. I was terrified. I needed her. I couldn't understand why Amy wasn't there for me anymore.

It's true that the phone works both ways. But I was in the throes of postpartum depression. I isolated myself. I couldn't reach out to anyone. Amy is actually the only friend that I told about my PPD. But she still wasn't there.

When I came back to work, things were not the same between Amy and I. We talked, but not as often, and it was just different. We went out to lunch occasionally. We didn't see each other outside of work.

Then, at the end of July, Brooklyn became very ill and was hospitalized for several days. I talked to Amy for a few minutes after Brooklyn was admitted. She didn't come visit. She didn't call to check up on Brooklyn.

Amy came to my office the day after Brooklyn got to come home from the hospital. "So," she said, "You never called me. What's going on with the baby?" I was hurt by the fact that she hadn't even checked on us. I said, "She's home. She's getting better. I never heard from you, so...." Amy got mad and said something about the fact that I could have called. I told her that I was busy taking care of a very sick baby. She acted all taken aback and stormed out of my office. A few minutes later, I sent her a message saying that I didn't understand what she was mad about. She sent back a long reply that she wasn't mad, she was disappointed. That she had done so much for us, and she couldn't believe that I could act this way. That she was angry that I hadn't called her to babysit when she had offered to do so. That I had used her. She said that she knew what it was like to have a very sick child, but that the way I was acting was unexcusable. That I had treated her badly, she didn't appreciate it, and she damn sure wasn't going to take it.

I replied back that I had not used her, that I had been there for her too, that I didn't understand where all this was coming from. She never answered me.

Amy has not spoken to me since. In fact, she has refused to even look at me since then. Even when I have brought Brooklyn by the office to visit a couple of times. She has ignored me, turned around, and walked out of the room. I knew that Amy is a bitter person with a lot of hurt. I knew that she had a quick temper and an angry tongue and got into a lot of confrontations. A lot of people we work with don't like her because of that. But before all of this, she had never been that way to me. She had been a good friend to me.

I really don't understand what happened. And I don't know what to do. It still hurts me. I do miss her. I have thought about apologizing, but honestly, I never so much as said a cross word to her. I don't know what I could possibly have done that would warrant an apology. I have thought about going upstairs to her office and telling her I want to talk the whole thing out and make it all okay again. I've thought about asking her to lunch and telling her I want to put this all behind us. But now it's been over five months since we have spoken. And maybe that's just too long. I don't know if I should just leave things the way they are now. I wonder if all of this should tell me that Amy isn't the kind of person I should be friends with. I don't know what to do. Is it over for good? Why is it so hard for me to have and keep any true friends?

Quickly....

Just a few things before I have to get back to work. (Sigh)

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Our friend who was in the car wreck is still fighting. He is starting to show some improvement...he's still in a "moderate coma" in the trauma ICU, but has been responding to some stimulation the past couple of days. He wiggled his toes on command, squeezed his mother's hand on command, and gave his family a "thumbs up" when asked to. He has come so far in a week. Baby steps. As long as he is moving forward it is such a great thing. He squeezed my hand a couple of times the other night as well. His nurse cautioned us that he may never wake up any more than he is now. But the improvements over the past few days have given everyone hope. He is not gone, he is in there somewhere...

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Family drama this weekend. My brother was arrested yesterday. He is now in jail and nearly took my other (baby) brother with him. Stupid decisions on both their parts. They both refuse to let go of the drugs. It seems as though nothing ever really changes with them. Any time that it seems that they might have moved on or grown up, we are right back here again. Although my youngest brother was not arrested, the military will likely find out what has been going on, and he will pay for it then.

I may write more on this later. I get so frustrated and disappointed in him. I know he can do better. The one who is sitting in jail right now...I don't think that he will ever stop living the life that he is living. He has let drugs take everything from him and still won't stop. Homeless. Jobless. Every problem that he has, he has created with his drug use. It's a terrible thing to say that you have given up on someone, but in his case, I have. He is not the brother I grew up with. That person is gone.

The youngest one could do so much better. I have so much hope for him. It breaks my heart that he keeps doing this to himself. He has so much to lose.

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Dave and I have both had a nasty cold/sore throat/sinus thing. Brooklyn has managed not to catch it so far, hopefully she will keep fighting off all these nasty winter bugs.

I will write a better post soon.

Back to work now.

Why?

Just down the road from where I sit, one of our dear friends lies in a hospital bed in a deep coma. A terrible car wreck on Saturday afternoon caused a very serious brain injury. Now he lies there, completely still, hanging on to life with machines performing every vital function for him. His brain continues to swell and bleed. They can no longer use the medications that were reducing the pressure inside his skull. This morning, a neurosurgeon told his family that his brain was too badly bruised and swollen to perform surgery. The doctor said that he is now "in God's hands."

In God's hands, indeed. We have been to the wreck site, we have seen the pictures of the mangled truck he was trapped inside. It is miraculous that he made it to the hospital, that he survived his surgery to repair his internal organs that day, and that he has made it through three long days so far. He is strong, and he is in the fight of his life right now. The fight FOR his life.

I have a hard time believing that the God I love would let him suffer through the last three days just to take him from us. Or to not let him wake back up again. The doctors aren't giving his family a whole lot of hope. IF he makes it through, they say...IF he wakes up...he will probably never be the same again. That's a lot for them to take. To hear these things about their eighteen-year-old son, brother, cousin, nephew, friend. To see him lying in a hospital bed with so many wires and tubes running in and out of his body, a drastically swollen version of himself. To spend so many hours in the ICU waiting room and hallway, unable to see their loved one. Waiting for any report, not knowing what is going on behind those locked double doors that lead to his room. We have spent a great deal of time at the hospital since Saturday afternoon. It is the least that we can do, to give them support and hugs, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on. There are so many tears from so many loved ones. It weighs heavy on my soul.

My husband and I have been able to see him twice. I have held his hand and told him to keep fighting and that we love him. I have prayed over him with a complete stranger. Visitation is five times per day, fifteen minutes each time. It is overwhelming how many people line up to see this young man every time visitation rolls around. A flock of 50, 60, 70 people, filing in and out, three at a time. So much love, such a big family, and so many friends. I know why. He is a good kid. He is outgoing, he has a big smile, a great sense of humor, a helping hand, and a sweet spirit.

Please pray with me. He is in God's hands. So...I pray that God's hands will carry him and his entire family through this and bring him back to us.