Rough Day

Today I think life caught up to me.  I was sleep-deprived, mainly from spending late hours at the hospital and waking up twice during the night to pump.   Within two hours of my being there, she had three painful-looking throw-ups.  (They gave her some sick-nasty vitamins that she obviously didn't like.)  To top it all off, I developed this idea in my head that Lucy might not make it.  There is something about watching your tiny child sleep, with wires and tubes hooked up to her, looking so small and helpless, that wreaks utter havoc on your heart.  And when I think about my son, who didn't have to work to breathe or eat, and I watch her fight to simply stay awake, much less breathe and eat, I am overcome with anxiety and hurt, and blame myself, cursing my body once again for being so inhospitable.

I spent the entire morning in tears.  It was so bad that they sent her doctor in (who may be the nicest woman on the face of the earth), who sat me down and said, "Talk to me.  What's wrong?" After talking with her and my husband, I realized that Lucy was perfectly fine, and that the problem was with me, not her.  I'm sure post-pregancy hormones can account for some of this, but in a moment of sitting quietly next to Lucy's bed, with tears pouring down my cheeks, I was reminded of the fact that fear is wrong.  It's not just bad for you, it's wrong.  Wrong like sinful.  I know that God has promised to be with me, to never leave or forsake me, and to be big enough to handle even the most impossible situations.  I have yet to see a time when He has failed to do so.  He loves my daughter more than I do.  If I give in to fear, I am in essence telling God that I don't trust Him (Imaginer and Creator of the universe, mind you) to take care of my daughter.  Seems a little pompous, doesn't it?

This helped put things in perspective.  She is here, she is healthy, and she is making progress.  That's good enough for now.  So I went home, took a much-needed nap, picked up around the house, did some laundry, spent the evening with my son, and went to bed early.  Joy comes in the morning - tomorrow will be much better.