Seven years ago my precious miracle child took her first labored breaths. Although she was born just after 7pm, it was nearly midnight before we knew there was a problem with her lungs. All of our friends and family were long gone and sound asleep after the exciting day we had. The two of us sat in that hospital room, facing the unknown alone together, trying to make sense from the words the doctors were telling us.
Fast forward 2 weeks, past her NICU stay and my own return to the hospital with complications, and it is all behind us. She and I both faced critical situations and came out with our health. We had amazing medical teams and a few angels along the way. We were both HOME together.
Fast forward 6 years, we are approaching her birthday. I am anxiety ridden and still suffering from PTSD and Post Partum depression as a result of that difficult time. Each year I re-lived that time in my heart, and struggled with my grief over those precious days we lost. This year was worse for me as it was falling on the same days of the week as the year she was born, making the re-living all the more real to me.
Fast forward 1 more year, today. All of the intense projects, assignments, and conversations that I participated in last year seem to have paid off. For the first time since her birth, I am looking forward to celebrating this day with her. I am going to be able to be fully present with her at her birthday party tomorrow. I was be able to joyfully hug her at 7:06 tonight instead of desperately clinging to her.
As we approach the 7th anniversary of the exact moment my world came crashing down around me. I am reminded of another deeply imbedded memory, one that I couldn’t place at the time. I remember the distinct feeling of God’s hands helping me carry those worries that I held onto, and also carrying them away when I was ready to let go.
