Embrace

Carpe Diem.  Seize the day.

During this most recent hospital admission, I made a decision.  I realized there was more of Wylie to embrace, so I did.  I embraced the more of her that was uncovered.

I am aware that she will require more medical intervention than our family has known.  I anticipate procedures, tests, medications, and appointments.  Then came Monday night.  We had been home for exactly two weeks--a wonderful two weeks.  Yet, we had to go back.  We had to drive back to the same ED that opened the door to her ten-week hospitalization.

Honestly, I was sad and tempted to feel a failure.  We went, though, and were greeted by friendly, helpful doctors, nurses, and therapists who did their best for Wylie again.  I hoped maybe they would send us home, but we didn't go home.  We went back upstairs to the other side of the PICU.  Sweet friends there apologized that we had to come and welcomed us, too.

Wylie's palliative care doctor reassured us the next day that her providers also expect admissions to "fine-tune" her care.  I liked hearing that.  I witnessed the truth of her statement.  While Wylie was there, they stopped two of her medicines.  She made the transition back to breastmilk.  She has a new weaning plan for another two medicines.  It was helpful and redemptive.

Before all of this materialized, though.  I realized my opportunity to choose my attitude.  I could drag in and out of that parking garage.  I could worry and fret.  I could become anxious for the children at home and what they are experiencing or perhaps losing.  I could project into the future how many more admissions we may have and how many could be as harrowing as ones we have already endured.  I could be jealous of parents with "healthy, normal" newborns.  Easily.  I could easily do those things.

On the fringe of this attitude choice, a startling question interrupted and weighed on my heart.  Will we help Wylie live for her to just inevitably die an early, painful death?  Herein lies the more of Wylie I can choose again to embrace.

My answer is that I'm all in for Wylie.  I'm willing to make a thousand trips to the hospital.  I am willing to help her siblings cope with separation and disruptions in our home.  I'm committed to teamwork with Gavin through whatever circumstances we find in the future.  It's firmly decided--a done deal.

In the meantime, we are not at the hospital.  We are home.  Right now, our sweet Wylie is napping on her changing pad, a beautiful color pink with her newly-grown, fuzzy hair adorning her precious noggin.  There is diaper-changing, bathing, cuddling, stroller-walking, singing, reading, facing-making, embracing to do.

Carpe Diem.