A Different Kind of Mother's Day

(I realize that I have been a slacker of a blogger.  Life has been full and rich and good and I haven't taken the time.  I will go back and fill in with fun pictures and updates later on.  I tend to write when I NEED to write and this is one of those nights.  Grace's lip, although needing a revision in about a year, did heal and we are thankful and have just lived life since!  This post deals with her palate repair, that was done earlier this week on May 7th.)



I had a different kind of Mother's Day today.  It is one that I will remember and one that will stand out in the years of flowers and cards.  I woke up this morning with an unusual anguish in my spirit; unusual because it is rare that I feel that way.  I remember feeling it when it looked as though Grace's lip repair would bust wide open with infection.  It did not.  I remember it when I couldn't walk well and the prognosis was grim, but with the help of some metal, I got a second chance on an active life.  I had been up every hour the previous night as Grace struggled and kicked and cried and tried to restlessly sleep.  A response to surgery or painkillers or just agitated in general, her night and our night was rough.  She and I had just had a string of rough nights in the hospital and I am walking that all too familiar "mom fog" that is a combination of adrenaline and hope and protective survival that many new mothers know and I now know is common for mothers who are caring for a hurting child.  The day before, Cory and I noticed that Grace's brand new palate looked as though it was moving and loose.  As the day progressed, we noticed that the one part of the palate was hanging down in her mouth.  That palate that had been so carefully constructed over hours of parents waiting and praying and passing time.  That palate with the "successful outcome" pronounced as the surgeon walked us to her PICU room, where upon just seeing her for a moment, I started crying.  That was my daughter surrounded by doctors and nurses and techs and I couldn't get to her just yet.  My sweet sweet daughter who held my hand in the dark of that room with a swollen tongue that just threatened to obstruct her airway, but never succeeded.  My little fighter who is tough but graceful enough even post surgery to hug and kiss her doctors.  And so this morning, when Cory and I were confident that something was indeed truly wrong and one phone call to the surgeon confirmed it,  the fact that it was Mother's Day only made my emotions that much stronger for my children.  Grieving that my oldest three wanted me to see their cards and homemade gifts and I couldn't just yet, because Grace was crying and agitated and refusing any and all liquids even though she really needed them.  Grieving that I couldn't make it better in that moment for any of them and feeling really helpless.  And that anguish that a mom has when her children are in pain and confused.  And this crazy deep gratitude that the Lord chose me to be their mom.   In the midst of it all.  As helpless and exhausted as I felt, that I still got the job.  It is strange but, I don't know if I have ever been more thankful on Mother's Day.

Now, some reality.  No matter what, I knew and know that it would be ok.  There are some cleft kids who go through 3 palate repairs before it holds.  We know that.  It is rare and we just thought it would be fine this time.  There are mothers who, every holiday, wake up anguished over not being able to make it better.  My day is fleeting and it will get better.  If we have to make a space age palate out of plastic for Grace to wear her entire life, we will do it.  Whatever it takes.  She is ours.  But, this morning, when I spoke to my mom to wish her Happy Mother's Day, I broke.  Sobbed like a girl.  Not because it was terrible, but I heard her voice and how it sounds like mine and how she was mad at the enemy (also sounds like something I would say) for messing with her granddaughter.  I just needed to hear my mom.  I hung up the phone and needed to hear my God.  And I needed Him to hear me.  The sobs turned into prayers without words and the groans that Jesus hears and carries and keeps.  They seemed to say, "Please heal.  I know you do.  She has gone through so much.  Please no more trauma for this sweet girl.  I don't understand why but there is this little place of knowing that you will work it all for good.  Please.  I know you are good in it all."

I love Ann Voskamp's take on eucharisteo.   She took it from the Bible and I have loved that book long.  That thanksgiving that wells up despite it all.  I chose to be there this week.  Please know, it was a decision.  Even this morning.  I was thankful in the sobbing that God was safe to sob too.  That He knew.  That even in my lack of understanding, I trust that He knows.  And cares.  And loves.  I was thankful that I married a man who was praying the Word of God over my daughter.  That the same God that raises from the dead and seals with the Holy Spirit  would raise and seal Grace's palate.  Those are fighting words.  Big time.  No matter what, we trust God but I will camp with that faith regardless of the outcome anytime.  I like how he is betting and WHO he is betting on.  So much so that I'll put it in a blog not knowing how things will turn out because the deposit of faith is so much better and richer and more fun than the cavern of emptiness without.

So, we drove down the highway with our little girl to meet our surgeon on a Sunday.  I was thankful as we drove by the restaurants that I wasn't waiting in the lines and that a very kind friend and mother was making us food today.  Grace, with half her palate hanging in her mouth (very gross and kind of scary to see...trust us on this one) strode into the hospital with her little walk like she owns the place.  Her "fight" makes me crazy sometimes when she is kicking in anger or agitation about something small but it is that "fight" that keeps her resilient despite the circumstances.  Praise the Lord that we found a water fountain and my little girl who is refusing a lot of liquids, drank and drank because 1. It was fun.  2.  She got to push the button.  3.  It was something new.   Tomorrow a man is coming to our home to install a water fountain for this season.

Our surgeon confirmed what we had seen and that the palate had come apart on a side and in the front. Here is the amazing part.  It should, by the shear mechanism of her tongue, be put in place over the next days and heal and seal on it's own.  I remember when Cory was in medical school and that he would comment that he didn't understand how anyone could doubt God's existence when you look inside the inner workings and intricacies of the human body.  That this dangling palate has the capability and possibility to heal itself is nothing short of miraculous.  I am still trying to figure out how they made her one in the first place!  So we hope.  We hope for the miraculous but hope more in the God of hope who is filling us with all joy and peace as we trust in Him, so that we may overflow with hope.  Would you join us in hoping like that?  If you know my Jesus, would you ask Him to be who He already is and seal and raise her palate into place?

I was reading a devotional tonight to my children and it spoke of hope.  That if you belong to Jesus, there are 3 things you can hope in.
1.  God will turn even the bad things around for your good in the end.
2.  Your good things can't ever be taken away from you.
3.  The best things are yet to come.

So, we are hoping for healing.  Knowing that no matter what, we have Jesus.  Knowing that if I'm to write someday about all of the rare and crazy things that can happen with cleft palate surgery, at least it will have hope.  And maybe some humor too.
I did have a different but very good Mother's Day.  Today I didn't want gifts.  Just time with each child.  I had been at the hospital all week and missed them.  I took Grace for a walk in the stroller around the neighborhood, thankful that she was instructing me on which wildflowers she wanted in her hands along the way.  I "did school" (his choice!) with William and we colored and read and did patterns and it was so sweet.  I took a walk this evening with Carter who filled my ears with fourth grade fun and questions and retelling of tales.  Tomorrow I am planning to steal away my oldest daughter for lunch (she is street smart and knows that by waiting an extra day, she gets a sweet deal!).  I did get a gift and homemade cards, and duct tape vases and grocery list holders and even an original song with dance moves to end the night.  I was also asked in all seriousness today from one of my children who shall remain nameless, if I could "teach them how to hold their pooters in."  A good skill to have but not one I really know how to teach.  I mean, I have a Masters Degree in Mom but that one threw me and almost caused their aunt to fall out of her chair.
I loved this Mother's Day.  I would have written it differently but I still loved it.  I don't have the pretty picture going to church with kids all clean and dressed today.   They dressed themselves and the clean is questionable and their mom looks exhausted and graying hair that needs colored and a new normal of four children with one with a special need and surgery and therapy and this. is. what. makes. being. a. mother. really. special.  Grateful in the mess.  Joy in the sorrow.  A new memory for this holiday that has some meat on it's bones.  Some depth.  Happy Mothers Day.