I’ve been wanting to write about something for over a week now. A… confession of sorts. I’ve been holding off on doing it simply because I’ve been wanting to concentrate on the positive and let the negatives, or the fears, just fade into the background. However, not posting it brings up other things. My children’s understanding as an example. So, for the sake of coming clean, here is the story.
As with anyone who’s lived through trauma in their life will tell you, there are a lot of groups available with a similar trauma. Joining them allows us to speak/ share our stories with those of like-experiences. This “truer” understanding of what one is going through does many things, not the least of which is help the healing process along.
Of course, sometimes things happen within these groups or communities that has a deep impact.
You all know that we went through hell during Charlize’s surgery and recovery. It took a while but we did manage to find a helpful group within a Canadian Heart Disease communities. Many are those who’ve had children undergo open heart surgery and many are those who are preparing to do so. One little girl, Amelia (strangely enough also the name of a very important character in the novel I started writing last November), had gone through the surgery and required a follow-up. She passed away on the 17th, never recovering from the 2nd operation. Even now, writing these words, stirs tears. A site in her memory had been put together with tons of pictures and encouragement during the surgery which became devastating after the news.
As I sat there looking through those photographs of this six-month baby girl and her family and big sister enjoying their first and only Christmas together, I could not help imagining my six-month baby girl being taken from me. Of course it’s not what we should be thinking of but how can you help it? The pictures, smiles, surgeries, were so similar it couldn’t be helped.
Unable to contain my tears, through the deep sadness, I realized something. The fear of Charlize needing another surgery and of losing her ran much, much deeper than I had ever expected. Yes, the thoughts have gone through our heads for months already, but I believed I was handling it well (don’t give it “weight”, it’s not going to happen).
So there it is. My shock at the intensity of my fear came as a frightening surprise. It took me two days before I was able to rock her to sleep without blubbering. This episode has done something else to me. As much as I changed, intrinsically, how I dealt with the world around me after her surgery, my appreciation of every moment came back to me full forced after the weekend. I stopped taking things for granted a long time ago. But now, I’m so much more keenly aware and appreciative of everything around me – especially those who are the most important to me.
*phew* This was a much harder post to write than I thought it was going to be…