Your mommy may or may not be reaching a breaking point. What does it mean to be strong? How in the world have I made it so far without screaming out “WHY?” I am not questioning the purpose of it all, but can’t we just trade places? I hear you struggling and I know you are brave; I know you will make it. I look for instant gratification and want you better, NOW. But there is time involved, and time is not always easy, quick, or friendly. God knows your time, he knows the hours, days and years of your life; if I continue to trust that He has you figured out when I cannot quite see the path, then we will be fine. You will be okay.
I must say that it has not been easy. These past two weeks have felt like months. I see so many friends whom we have met since we arrived, carrying in the car seat to take home their sweet bundled up angels. Happiness for them is obviously felt, but I can’t help to feel slightly discouraged. Eventually we will be walking you out that door, prideful yet anxious; it just hasn’t set in yet. Right now this feels like home. Home is where you are, where Carson is, where we are all together.
There have been good days. They continuously lower your oxygen, talk about how well you have been breathing, announce you will be feeding more often. Then within no time, your levels drop, your oxygen cannula increased, feedings are required to be stopped. I sat and watched you de-sat tonight, and asking God, “why not me?” There are many things in life that I find difficult to understand or impossible to handle. Watching my baby suffer is one of them.
Will we be out of here in a week? Probably not. Two weeks? I’m not sure. I will stand by you and hold your hand, your daddy and I both. As long as it takes, take your time. We will be patient and God will be your guide.
We will conquer these trials, my love.
I will try not to let this all get the best of me.
We love you, sleep well.