Dreams Come True

For the longest time I have not dared to dream. Not dared to let my mind wander to a place in the future, nor let my heart follow it there.

Congenital Heart Disease does that to a family.

Most families have dreams for their kids; to see them grow up into young men and women, fall in love, get married and have a family of their own. My dreams have not lingered there, They have visited occasionally. Kind of like popping your head around the corner of a door and then retreating before anyone notices. That has been the extent of my dreams for our families long term future. Because as a heart Mum I have learned to live in the moment, relishing each day. Not taking anything for granted, making big deals out of every milestone because they are so much more precious to me, knowing that God enabled us to reach them. In essence we live a life of gratitude, not making plans anymore than about a week in advance because so often those plans fall in a heap.

Being on a church roster is scary for me, working is scary for me, committing to being somewhere weekly is scary to me. Because so often I have to let others down to be with my family when they need me. And often they have due to illness.

But lately I have been stretching my tired wings. Daring to venture into greater commitments  with work, church and friends. I have been letting myself dream a little more about our marriage and  future, about my boy's futures and speaking words of great promise over all of us. Through God enabling I have begun to see through the haze of CHD and see increasing glimpses of God's promise of life in abundance for our family.

For so long I have been holding these precious dreams in my hand and protecting them like a costly jewel.

Now I see they are alive and ready to take flight, like a dove being released to find it's way home; God's promises to not return to Him unfulfilled.

Picture Source

It Hurts

Sam has always had sensitive skin. His hearing has always been more sensitive and his emotions run deep, both good and bad. Since recommencing Kindy I have watched him grown in confidence, regaining some of what was lost during the last surgery in March. It is wonderful to watch him bloom, yet hand in hand with the bloom comes fragility and vulnerability.

He was accidentally pushed over at Kindy yesterday grazing both of his knees. He felt it deeply and the whole Kindy knew about it. They called me, not concerned about his knees but his reaction to the accident. You see his reaction to pain and fear is so out of character for Sam. The once happy little chappy with the big vocabulary and infectious giggle, just screams and cries and will not be consoled. He will not let anyone touch his wounds or try to distract him so they can. So they called me, on the way home from getting groceries and I had to make a choice. To go and comfort him...or to leave him in their care. Every motherly part of me screamed to turn the car around go to him. The other part of me, wants him to grow and realise that he can do it on his own, and that he needs to. So pushing down the caring part, I resolved to let them deal with it and drove in the opposite direction. Ten minutes later I called and he had settled somewhat, though now they had somehow convinced Sam to apply his own band aids, three of them. Oh hell! Yes, that's right, hell. It will be when they need to come off.

When I arrived to collect him in the afternoon he was still waking from a sleep. He was unable to stand, due to the stiffness of the grazes and bruising and I had to carry him to the car. They told me that he had not been himself for the rest of the day. That he had seemed tired and staring off into space. They do no understand how trauma saps his energy. For the last 24 hours he has been walking over like a hunched old Grandpa. Part of me worries that he has broken something but he would not be able to walk at all then right?

This morning he needed to take off the band aids. An hour later through much wailing, negotiation and persistence he removed two and I the other. It was not the best start to the day and Jack was almost late for school. And now he sleeps while I write this. Because of the exertion and drama over the last 24 hours we are both exhausted. Him from struggling to deal with it all and me from playing good cop, bad cop, trying to encourage him into moving, without me having to carry him.

Most other kids have grazed knees occasionally. It hurts, and they react but not in this way. I struggle with dealing with it all because besides my husband there are few who understand the drama, physical and psychological implications of it all.

My heart is aching today. I think I need a holiday.