***I'm going to be transparent here. I'm going to write things down that I need to get out, so I can remember what I was thinking along this journey. Even if it means staying up late and getting less sleep, I still want to write it out. I want to remember that I'm still human, and to remember my raw feelings and emotions. They are still valid feelings that I have, and even though I know we were destined to walk this path and we will be protected and taken care of - I am still human.***
Sometimes I just want to fast foward the time. I want to be over and done with the next few surgeries. I want to know how Caysen is going to be. I want to know when he will be able to sit up, roll over, etc.
It is hard looking at other babies and seeing them hold their heads up, or hearing of friends' babies who are younger than him and are rolling over. Ouch. It really makes his delays that much more apparent. I tried the other day to get him to push back with his feet and "stand" on his legs with my hands supporting under his arms and around his upper body. No dice. He folds on top of his legs like a wet noodle. It raises questions in your mind, questions that you don't want to answer to, yet you can't seem to push out of your brain. Is that part of his little brain damaged? Will that ever work?
While we were in the hospital we were asked if he draws his legs up when he uses the restroom. I told them no. I had to explain myself, "he's delayed, so it's hard to say". I get tired of saying that. And, it's so hard to be patient. To see if and when he will reach those milestones. Then I think about the next surgery. The "Big" one. The hardest. The one that will continue to set us back. The one that has the least success rate.
I am ready to be done with that surgery, and yet I dread it at the same time. So much difficulty comes with it - and he's still such a mystery. We can only hope and pray that he will go into that surgery as healthy as possible. Will all of his other "issues" get figured out well enough?
I guess I'm just tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of only getting 4-5 hours of sleep a night. Tired of pouring all my energy and everything I have into my family and housework and things of those nature - and still not having enough to go around. I'm tired of working in a place where people come in for treatment daily just because they don't want to exist. The irony isn't lost on me that I work with people who no longer want to live - and then I go home and fight like you wouldn't believe for my little boy who I WANT to live a very full life. Don't those people know what they have been given? Life is so precious. Others complain about a stomach bug or a common cold going through their family. I can't even begin to describe what I would give for that to be my biggest concern. They're worried about a tiny fever in their baby, whereas my life is consumed with oxygen saturations, feeding pumps and medications. Shouldn't people be more grateful for the blessings they do have? Hearing people say and talk about things like that? Tiring. Just tiring.
It is sometimes so hard to appreciate the small victories, to look at him and realize how good he looks and how far he has really come - when all of that can be overshadowed by the path ahead of us. It's a very gloomy and foggy path with no real direction, one that you wouldn't want to travel down by choice but you have to because its the ONLY way. And it seems like you're walking backwards sometimes, because you're moving so slowly.
Daily, I have to remind myself to appreciate the small victories. Tummy time that didn't end in horrible tears. Smiles from the little guy. Tolerating one of his feeds like a champ. If you don't cling on to those little things, you drown in those bigger and scarier things. You have to remember to take it one day at a time. You look too far ahead and you get overwhelmed. Like the way you feel when you are on top of a really tall high dive and about to jump. It seems so easy - until you look down and see how far you really have to go. It makes you want to back up, change your mind, cower around the edges, or not even jump.
Unfortunately, we have to jump. We have to take this path. And as much as I want to see the future, I also don't want to wish away this sweet little baby. He is so precious, so incredibly strong, and such a little miracle. Looking at him, I am reminded daily of God's grace. What Satan tried to use for evil, God has worked miracles in and through him. So, despite the fact that I am tired, I am weak, I am so! over! it! - we are truly lucky to have the opportunity to walk this journey. We are blessed to still have Caysen, and to continually learn each day what it means to have such a wonderful Savior.