Allowance

I don't know how long it lasted, but it seems like weeks looking back on it.  I held my tears at bay until I absolutely couldn't.  When they came, I realized that I had pushed them down for a reason.  I figured, "If I cry, it means I have lost hope for Wylie."

Tissues later, I knew these tears did not carry that meaning at all.  My tears were tears, that's all.  They revealed that we are under a colossal amount of stress.  They displayed my love for Wylie and my desire for her to get better.  Then after they were out, I felt so much better.

I've allowed them to return as needed.  Well, almost.  I wanted to cry when I was allowed the opportunity to hold Wylie.  I was overcome with excitement and gratitude.  I did not cry then, though.

I had pictured myself holding her when she was all healed and happy.  I figured then it would be the right time.  Yet, in the midst of the messiness of figuring out her tears, the beloved nurses and doctors placed her into my arms.  That was a surprise.

I held her and wondered how to answer her tears.  I looked at the monitors and screens.  I was clueless.  I did learn something after some time of sitting there holding sweet Wylie.  Just like my held tears, holding her had an unexpected meaning.  I thought I would hold her once it was all better, then I found that holding her actually is a part of healing for both of us.

All of it is messier and harder than I would ever choose.  Sometimes it really feels like too much.  But we can't have Wylie without the crying and the mess, so we allow the crying and mess because it means we get to hold Wylie and heal together.