In just 3 days I will get to meet my little Brooklyn. Just writing that blows my mind. I feel like we’ve already been through so much together, and now – finally -- we get to meet face to face. That thought both thrills me and scares me. I am so excited to finally tell her how much I love her in person, but I also know that there will be a lot of raw emotion as we find out exactly what some of her challenges might be. I admit, that is scary.
But, honestly, what scares me the most are the days immediately following her birth. When I am stuck in the hospital recovering while she is in a separate hospital receiving her first surgery. My husband will be with Brooklyn, and I will be relying on phone updates. My other two children will be at home with my sister-in-law. And there I will sit – totally helpless.
That day has haunted me more than anything else these last several months. I am not the type of person who easily asks for help, and on this day, I will need to rely on everyone else to take care of the most precious things in my life. This goes against every ounce of my being and makes my heart physically ache. But I have no choice.
In thinking about this day, I have come to a very important decision: This journey is going to be hard, and it’s going to have to be shared. I am only one person and as much as I am going to want to do it all on my own, I know it won’t be physically -- or emotionally -- possible. I am going to need help.
Thankfully, I have been blessed with a wonderful family and support system that has more than offered their assistance. The hard part is accepting that help and then actually telling people what I need. As my Mom has told me, “You will need to be the quarterback.” Of course, my husband is going to be a part of all of this, but he will also be bouncing around between the hospital, work, and home.
For the first time in my life, I am going to have to allow myself to fully rely on others and then accept that this does not indicate failure. In fact, I have to view it as a gift. A gift that will not only provide tangible assistance, but more importantly, will provide comfort as I realize that I will not be going through this alone.
A gift of peace. Of community. Of love.
What a wonderful lesson God is teaching me. Yes, He is always there for us, but He has also provided people in our lives to physically help us when we feel it is all crashing down, and we just need a hug, a babysitter, or some eggs.
I have asked my Mom to be with me on the day of Brooklyn’s surgery, and I have asked my Mother-in-law to be with my husband so that neither one of us has to be alone. My girls will be at home getting more than enough love and attention from their aunt, and Brooklyn will be in the hands of amazing doctors and nurses that will provide the best care they can for her.
Yes, I will share this journey. And I will allow myself to joyfully accept each and every gift I receive along the way.