I keep thinking that I will find a day when I will not cry. I haven't found that day yet. I think of when Max came into the hospital. Watching his heartbeat at 130 - 140 beats per minute. Watching his fever climb and not want to come down. Part of me wants to forget those early days but a part of me wants to remember how desperate I was for him to keep fighting and not give up. I really don't want to be complacent in my life again. I quickly forgot how Max looked hooked up to 9-12 lines running into his body, how all the tubes and drains looked when other came in to see him. This horrible situation quickly became my new normal. It's amazing how our minds adapt to new situations.
At first I cried because I didn't know what would happen. I told the kids that it was okay to cry. It didn't mean we didn't trust God, it didn't mean we had a lack of faith. It just meant that our life had changed and we didn't know where we were going. We were mourning things that would not come to pass that we had planned on doing, our lives had been altered and we couldn't go back and change that. No do overs, no try agains. Now I cry because I hate to see him in pain. They suction his lungs to try and get the secretions out of his lungs. When they do his body is racked with pain. You see it on his face and there isn't anything you can do. I watch his numbers, such a strange thing to occupy your day. But his life is in the numbers. His heartbeat, his blood pressure, how many breathes per minutes he takes, how much oxygen is in his blood. I pray, I beg, I plead, I take authority.......I fall exhausted at my Fathers Feet. Lord help me, help my unbelief, help my weariness, help me let go and trust you totally. I do, I don't, I do......he has our lives in his hand. He can help me through the rough patches. He knows I trust him but he also understands my sorrow.
My prayer tonight was Lord please help his blood oxygen stay above 95% I don't want him to go on the ventilator, I want him to breath on his own without trouble.
It breaks my heart when he writes me notes about going home and walking around the field. He doesn't want to go to therapy, we can walk the property and he will get stronger. He asked me ask the nurse if we could go home, he wrote he was blessed and we would get stronger at home. I want to bawl like a baby but I can't, he wouldn't understand.
But, every day is new and God has said his mercy is new EVERY morning. I will go to bed with praise on my lips for my God is able to do exceedingly above and beyond anything I can imagine. He is the author and finisher of Max's life and mine. While I may splutter in the waves that wash over my head, I know that God will lift us out of them. I pray everyone has a wonderful evening/day. Take a few minutes to count your blessing and give your loved ones an extra kiss.
Sweet Dreams, Sherry