A Long December

December has been a long and hard month for us so far. But I am hopeful we will turn a corner soon.  The end of November Zoe had a cold that turned in to double lung pneumonia.  While is hospital, her body did something called "third spacing" which means the fluid from her veins leaked in to her abdomen and lungs so her lungs filled with fluid.  Zoe required a high flow oxygen machine to help her breathe.  It was a very stressful few weeks.

Now Zoe is home and for the past five days we have made the most of time by getting our Christmas tree, decorating, and spending time as a family.  A few days ago Willow started to have a cold which Zoe now has.  Zoe broke out in her full body immune response rash and threw up last night.  So now we are watching her closely, keeping her hydrated and hoping this passes without another trip to the hospital.

And so we are waiting...

I wrote this poem a few years ago and as I struggle to put in to words what I am feeling right now I thought I would share it.  The image of sunshine and hammocks sounds pretty nice right now on this cold winter's day.

"I Know I Am Lucky"

These months and days that add up to years.
A lifetime
Of joy.
And a lifetime
Of pain.
Of waiting.
Always waiting.
For life to go on.
For life to start again.

We sit here, holding our breath
Hoping the next breath will not be so painful.
And time passes.
People move on.
Move forward.
People pass us by.
And here we are.
Waiting.
In pain.
Such intense pain.
Indescribable pain.
The pain of waiting for more pain.
And this life is passing us by.
Slipping through our fingers.

Smiles.  And laughter.  Running around the yard.  Pushing Ailsa higher and higher on the swing.
Pretending to eat her toes.
Pretending to high five her feet.
Pretending to care.
When all I feel is this pain.

But that's not fair.
Because I was there.
And I did smile with the sun on my face.
And I snuggled in the hammock as I recalled another day, long ago when Ailsa, Zoe and I snuggled in that hammock.  Ailsa wrapped up in her newborn blankets.
And these are my memories.
My grains of sand slipping through as I try to just breathe
And be
And feel
Not grasp.
Because there will be nothing left to hold on to if I do not feel the sand as it slides through my fingers.
And THAT is my fear.
THAT is what I fight against.

This is my life.
My one life.
And these are my beautiful children.
And my days are filled with pain
But there is sunshine too.
And swings.
And hammocks.
And I want to feel it.
All of it.
Even if there is a lot of pain.
Because I want to remember this.
All of this.
Because this is all I have.

This.
Just this.
And nothing more.
But all of this is a lot more than nothing.
And I know I am lucky.