when the bump in the road turns into a mountain: motherhood and fear.
I can’t start from the beginning because the beginning is still too painful. I will back track soon, when the wounds are scabbed over and bring healing to those hurts with words & thoughts.
But in the meantime, I’ll start here:
I never thought I’d be that mother.
The one that tastes grief, so metallic and bitter.
I never thought I’d have to do this, run this race with my chin held high, leaning completely on my God.
There’s nothing for me to carry, because I can’t.
They say there is no “cure”. There are just missing genes.
Everyone wants a positive report, except on blood work. You always want it to be negative. Nothing returning back to you. No bad news.
I was in the garden, weeding, pulling out some summer bounty from the rich earth. I came indoors, started rinsing the kale, cutting off beet greens.
My phone rang and I answered it, oblivious to what was coming.
All it took was a few words, “I’d like for you and your husband to come into my office so we can go over the results of Florence’s blood work.”
“No. NO. Oh God, no, no, no, Oh God, please God, please don’t tell me. I need to know right now. What WHAT is it?”
“Do you want me to tell you over the phone?”
“Yes, oh God, I can’t bear to wait all day I’ll go crazy. Please oh please oh God…”
“I’m really very sorry to tell you this, but….”
And I’ll stop there, because I refuse to mention the name, the diagnosis. I refuse to call it out yet, to cast shadows over my daughter’s future, to label her.
The doctors believe that something is wrong with her muscles. Something very wrong. Something that can’t be fixed. They say there is hope because every child responds differently, ever case is different. I cling to these things. She is in the “very strong” category and so no one is worried yet. She is behind on some of her motor skills, but that is it. I praise God that she is doing so well. I still don’t understand much about it, and I feel at peace in that place. There is no need for me to research right now. Perhaps one day I will, but right now, it’s just me and Jesus and Florence and Jay, walking through this struggle.
Know that my heart is being held in the secret place, it’s being covered by the Father’s wings. I rest under the shadow of the Almighty. There is a supernatural grace that washes over those who experience grief and mind numbing fear.
Because there is nothing to be done (yet), I have nothing but faith. No amount of striving can fix anything. But Jesus can, my Lord, my Saviour, the One who knit Florence together in my womb makes no mistakes. I lean not on my own understanding, but in all things trust in Him.
Friends, I don’t know what the journey looks like, but I ask that you treat Florence like any other precious little lamb. She is thriving and healthy, and she will continue to run past the limitations, to shock the doctors, to grow and get strong. And Jay and I? We just need love and support and true friends who will walk through this journey with us. We don’t need pity or well meaning wishes. We need strong, determined friends who believe what we believe.
This is not the end of the story, it is merely the beginning.
My God is good and full of love, and because of his characteristics, I believe in miracles.
Will you believe with us?