I love the movie My Best Friend’s Wedding. I am pretty sure I saw it in the theater multiple times and then on loop on VHS. I love the characters, the actors (hello! Julia, Cameron, Dermot and Rupert), the humor, the music, the story line. It’s just chick flick perfection. Of course the Oscars weren’t calling their name to stand up and accept an award in 1997, but all of us young women dreaming of our futures cared and that what mattered.
Thank you, please, please, please, please….
Oops I mean your will. Your will be done.
But God, can you please, please, please match yours to mine?
So my last post was in anticipation to a huge life change and somehow that change has come. Actually 6 weeks ago.
I outta post more often.
So before we were even licensed to foster I got an email asking if we’d take in a 9 month old baby boy. I said, (with my heart beating out of my chest thinking it’s too soon) “sure, but we aren’t licensed” they said they knew and we’re working on it. That was a Thursday, the following Monday I had our licensing worker inspecting our home and meeting us, Tuesday we had our license and Wednesday we had baby A. in our homes stealing our hearts at first smile.
He wasn’t an abused baby, he didn’t come with lice or ringworm, he was actually Gerber baby squishy delicious and has a heart breaking smile that I know will tear us all apart.
What are we doing? How can I not ask myself that question every day as I rock him, feed him and stare into his almond shaped eyes. Every day that he throws a fit and demands the only cure is me holding him. Every moment he yells his sweet baby yell just because for 2 seconds our household isn’t totally focused on him.
What are we doing?
Multiple times a day I am told by others “I could never do that, I would get too attached”.
Funny thing is, we’re attached. We are doing this and we are attached. Probably too attached. Like so many fear. We were attached the moment the doorbell rang and I opened the door and my heart and we were all goners.
We are all attached and he is attached to us.
Today is the one year anniversary of the scariest day/weeks of our lives. On this day, April 7th, last year Lily had her spinal fusion surgery. It was an awful day that turned into an awful 2 weeks. Well maybe an awful 6 months. Things happened we never expected. Our fears caught us off guard as they were rational fears. Believe me, I am used to irrational fears, but these were rational. She was a sick girl and it was hell to witness.
So somehow it’s been a year since I wrote this Andi Stuck in the Middle post.
One year. Like 365 days. Actually since it is April 1st it’s been more like 380 days or something. I’m not doing the math. There is no need. You do it. OK so I did the math.. 378 days.
But my point is somehow after all that marveling at the fact our middle girl was 10, well now she’s 11. What the heck.
Why do they keep getting older, it’s so unnerving.
So Andi Jane is now 11. Dude. 11.
She is still full of fire and crackers. She is light in the dark and can be a million shades of blue when she isn’t feeling what we are feeling.
So 7 years ago today I went into labor after a pedicure and a castor oil root beer float. I did what I had to do. If he didn’t come before Friday the 6th I had a c-section scheduled and I didn’t want a c-section. So 7 years ago I, for the first time and with my third child finally went into labor naturally at home, well as natural as I could manage.
I didn’t really want him to come out. I knew it was my last pregnancy. I knew life as we knew it was gonna change. But I didn’t want that c-section and I heard that you really can’t stay pregnant forever.
I’m waiting for the fog to lift. Or maybe I am waiting for my stomach to settle. I am wondering if I will wait the rest of my life for those things.
2016 has come and it didn’t get the memo. Sadly several stars names have been written all over social media with their too early dismissal from this world. And although it didn’t make the news feeds of everyone, my news feed was filled with the loss of not one, but two little girls who share the same genetic mutation as our Lily girl. CDKL5. Their names might not have made the national news, but their lives were great and they fought harder to live than they ever should have in the mere time they were with us. Harper, 5, and Sorrel, 15 months, both left this world this month and it’s been shocking and well to be honest, I don’t have the words because I don’t have the comprehension.
Last night in the car Andi I were talking about maybe going on a hike if the weather clears up this nice long weekend we have ahead of us, and she said “oh yes please!” and I then said “we would have to see if Grandma would be able to hang with Lily while we go” and that’s when she dropped the truth bomb. The ones I like to avoid in order to just breathe. She says “that makes me feel like crying, always having to find someone to watch Lily so we can go on hikes and other things she can’t do. I just wish sometimes she was able to do everything we do”. And there it sat. That bomb of truth I keep circling around because if I keep things running smoothly and manageable and busy, I don’t have to focus on that deep hurt that sits in my chest. The one that has been there for 13 years and 4 months and will never ever go away.