A Spring of Joy

Yes, I am home. I am recovering thanks to pain pills, antibiotics and nausea medication, and a mom who never tires of spending days caring for her grandchildren and me. I am exhausted and in pain. But I am home.

We still don’t know what culprit caused my infection. It could be any number of things, and it could happen again with something as simple as a hangnail or with forgetting Bella’s too heavy and picking her up with my right arm. It just doesn’t have what it needs to fight off germs or infection or trauma. It is just one more thing to add to my “new normal”…

I had been fighting a cold for a few days and on Wednesday was suddenly stricken with a high fever, chills and aches that wouldn’t go away. Ugh. Must be the flu. Then my right arm became increasingly stiff and sore, and I assumed maybe I had pulled or strained a muscle. I checked in with soon-to-be Dr. Nat, and she gave me some suggestions on my arm pain. The next morning I woke to red, angry streaks up my arm. And Dr. Nat said, “Get thee to a doctor, my friend. That’s systemic infection.”

Sarah met Mom and me at the doctor’s office and then took me to the hospital once he pronounced my sentence of outpatient IV antibiotics for a skin infection. At the IV treatment center, the nurses were wonderful, Sarah was wonderful, but my port was not so wonderful. Thankfully, it only took two tries to access it and I was undergoing treatment, sitting with Sarah watching American Idol. During that time, the redness continued to spread. A hurried phone call to the doctor, and the sentence increased to a hospital stay overnight. (Unfortunately, the hospital’s timing was off and Sarah and I missed the last 10 minutes of American Idol. I didn’t even get to see Tatiana’s dramatics!)

I was given a shared room on the cancer floor with a dear little old lady who spluttered, snored and talked in her sleep, so all I have to say is “Thank goodness for Ambien!” She was moved to another hospital the next day, and I remained the sole patient in my large, sea-foam green room.

After seeing a specialist on Friday, my sentence was lengthened to many doses of antibiotics and several days instead of one. It was long. It was hard. Sunday morning was the worst for me, as I sat in my cold, sterile environment thinking of everyone else worshipping together. It was an unbearable ache of loneliness.

And my children. I constantly thought of my children.

Saturday, Ash curled up next to me on my hospital bed, long lashes wet with tears, “I think about you all the time, Mommy,” he whispered. I watched Bella spinning circles in the middle of the room with Bear. She stopped, noticing our tenderness. “I’m so sorry about your sick, Mommy.” she said, head cocked, soft grin.

“I’m sorry, too, babies. I’m so, so sorry.”

The ache continues, both physically and emotionally. My heart is aching more than my arm tonight, and that means a LOT of pain. The hardest struggle to face isn’t “why me?“, it’s “why them?” I believe God is for me, for us. I truly believe that with all my heart. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have questions. I know He has a perfect plan for me, for us. I just want to see how this can be good for them. Bella has been struggling ever since I returned from isolation for thyroid treatment. She never wants me to go away, yet here I was torn away from her again. How are they to grasp it all? To understand when i don’t even understand myself?

Once again I am faced with opening my hands and letting them go. It isn’t easy. I want to clutch them to me and tell Him to stop, to pick on someone His own size, to give them a break. But ultimately, I will do what I have done every day of this horrible journey. I will take the next step in faith and I will relinquish my grip. I will say, “I believe,” even when I don’t feel it, and I will move forward with my babies, knowing that I am entrusting them (and me) to the hands that hold the universe.

It is the best place to be.

I believe. Lord, help my unbelief.