Can you....?

Hunchie was indeed blown up.

Dr. L. added 200 cc's more saline in my already tight back expander. 

And in case you were wondering, that is like 200 pounds more to my back. 

I remind myself of my neighbor in Utah who lives across the street.

She is 98 years old and valiantly walks to the library almost every day.  

She has a hunchie of her own, but it's real. 

I came home from the hospital eager to see my children

but instead, when I came home I just cried and went to bed.

I thought about how disappointing I must be to my children.

 Oh, how I wanted to pick up Nicholas, get down on the floor with Ollie, and play army men. 

 I wished I could have jumped on the trampoline with Jane and Claire. 

And I have to keep reminding myself that those days will come. Someday.

For now, I sit and tell Nicholas stories about when he was born. 

 I hold Ollie's hand around the house while he shows me things.

And tonight, I did valentines with the girls. 

This will have to do for now. 

I can tell my Nies worry about me, and my condition, and most of all, what will happen. 

 I assure them that my very talented Dr. L and his team will help me enjoy life more fully 

and hopefully decrease the amount of tears I shed daily.

  

Then the questions like come:

"Can you jump on the trampoline?"

 "Can you have another baby?" 

"Are you going to run again?"

 "Will you be able to ride your bike again?"

 These are the questions I get asked daily. 

 This process involves all of us, and I am very well aware of that.

I certainly appreciate your prayers, cards, and packages. 

It makes this painful process that much easier. And that means a lot.  

Forgetting and Enjoying.

We just got back from Arizona last night.

This drive was really horrible.

My kids were pretty good, but my back hurt and,

 I had to wear the new splits I got for my hands.

 I can only bear them for about 15-30 minutes before I want to curl up in a ball and cry. 

Sometimes when I think about how much I still have ahead of me it's so overwhelming!

 More surgeries, more therapy, more tears, and more frustrations.

 But I get to have more time on this earth.

I get to still enjoy romance, children, good food,

family, seasons, holidays, and the weather.

It's one foot in front of the other, and

I can do this (even with hand splints on!).

 

The closet.

(this picture has nothing to do with my post, I just thought it was awesome.)

Today I woke up to rain.
The kind of rain that is loud and makes it hard to get out of bed.

But I did.

I got up and did the routine. 

 Breakfast, making lunches, trying really hard to do my 

girl's hair and prayers before school.

After the girls left, the boys were in the living room

 fighting over who got to be Indiana Jones. 

 Then Jimmy did a silent toot 

(while he was jumping up to the table to eat the left-over toast crust), 

and they laughed, which was the end of that fight/discussion.

I was in the laundry room folding clothes. My clothes. 

And for some reason, my mind wandered off to the day months ago when

Courtney took me to her guest room.

She showed me where some of my clothes had been kept 

since the accident and the big move to Utah.
She left me alone and went to the closet touching all the clothes. 

 It was like I was touching a dead woman's dresses. 

 It was so strange. I felt dead, yet I was alive-just different.
I even went so far as to smell them.
It smelled like me. 

 Me in Arizona. 

Me in Arizona, going to church, going on dates, smiling, 

laughing, creating, and playing with my children.
I cried and sat down on Courtney's guest bed.
A wave of emotion took me for a few minutes.
I missed me again. I mourned for that woman!
I left that room, taking nothing home. It was not time.

After I loaded the laundry in my washer, 

I felt that familiar sadness. But then it was followed by a 

beautiful, spiritual confirmation that this is my new life.

 It is good. It is oh, so good!!
And then I felt I should go down the street to Courtney's house and

to that closet and bring home me.

Because it is still me.
And those clothes will still fit.

My perfect life.

Nicholas burned his finger today. It was heart-breaking. 

 Of course, I know of his pain and felt helpless. 

His tears carried on for hours and his only solace was a baggie of ice.

 I carried the boys to bed and lay with them as I always do. 

My mind often wanders as I lay and wait for my boys to fall asleep. 

Tonight in my thoughts I walked down my hallway in my Mesa home.

 I was carrying laundry and toys in a basket. 

 I walked past the boy's room and picked up a few toys on the carpet. 

 Nicholas sat in front of his large window playing his mini-piano 

while Ollie made train tracks from a large basket.

 I walked further down past my yellow office/guest room. My computer was open

 and a few stickie notes was still attached to the screen. 

 The bed was made perfectly and the carpet vacuumed. 

 Next was the girls room. The beds were not made. 

 I lay down the basket and made their beds. Again perfect.

Then I put away toys and clothes, opened the blinds, turned around, and smiled. Perfect. 

 Then I passed the bathroom. The towels folded nicely and everything sparkled clean.

It's old and dated, but at least it's clean.

Next, I entered my room. 

 My beautiful white bedspread lay over our 4-post bed.  

In my closet, all my clothes were in perfect order with Christian's work

clothes in the hamper.  

I noticed a note places on my dresser, "good morning darling"

it read.  It was from Mr. Nielson before he left for work.

I never made it to the other rooms because Nicholas's ice pack fell down 

and he started shaking his hand wildly in the air.

 I fixed the ice and lay back down next to him with tears dripping down my face

 My heart hurt and I was lonely for my once-perfect life. 

 I missed my old home, neighbors, friends, and my face. 

 Finally, I slipped out of bed leaving the boys snoring peacefully, and walked up to my room. 

As I walked up the stairs I noticed toys spread all over the floor with garbage, 

and popsicle sticks on the ground. 

Just a few short months ago this would have not been acceptable.

But now things have changed and I don't have the energy I did.

My life is not perfect but I am alive.

 And sure, I miss the almost perfect life I once had. 

But right now, this is better than perfect, too.