I've been quite emotional the past couple of days, so prepare yourselves, all who enter here. And to that, I say, it's about time.
Let me backup a bit.
Eons ago, it seems, we moved here to Allen. At the time I was patting myself on the back for managing everything so well. A new baby, a new job, a new home, a new ward, a new school...you get the idea. Then, wham. Tanner gets admitted to the hospital. Despite the amazing support of family (Mom and Dad were here to help us move), neighbors, and members of our new ward, I no longer have the strength to put on a smile and say, "we're hanging in there!" At least today I don't. After a few weeks, the meals stopped coming and the playdates stopped happening, but Tanner remained in the hospital. I kept telling myself, "a few more days. Surely he'll be able to come home soon." And so I lived between worlds: the "Yeah! We have a new house! A new job! A great new ward! Great neighbors! So many fun new parks and places to explore!" world, and the "when Tanner comes home..." world. It's a lone and dreary place, this between worlds. I can't quite seem to allow myself to feel excited, but with all the new and wonderful things just waiting for me, I can't quite seem to let myself cry, either. And lets face it. Sometimes a girl just needs a good cry. Which brings me back to "it's about time."
It started when, this past week, things started humming around Tanner at the hospital. The nurses were making calls to get me into a CPR refresher course. A home health company representative came and trained me on how to use a heart monitor at home. Nurses and doctors would whisper behind my privacy curtain, consulting on "Tanner." Then, my "General Conference" miracle. They said I could bring him home on Sunday. Our house flew into action: laundry, cleaning bathrooms, scrubbing floors, organizing, grocery shopping...I needed to be "ready." Sunday morning dawned a beautiful day. But then...false alarm. Given the events of the past night, the doctor no longer feels comfortable letting him go. And while, of course, I want what's best for Tanner, I fell apart. 6 weeks of juggling, and all the balls came tumbling down. Today, after a 45 minute discussion with his doctor, and many more tears, I must gear myself up for what could possibly be another month of dividing my time between home, and, as Erilyn calls it, the "hostipal." Close sweetheart, so close.
The kids no longer cling to me as I'm leaving. I don't know if that's better, or worse than their tearful expressions of, "Don't go, Mommy." Either way, my heart breaks at least twice a day: when I have to leave Anthon and Erilyn yet again, and when I have to leave my sweet, cuddly baby alone in the hospital.
I've seen tremendous blessings come into my life during this hard time, not the least of which comes in the form of my dear Kirk, but tonight, I'm wallowing.
Sigh.
