family / LIVING WELL / MOTHERHOOD

thank you

Even though I turned off the comments on my last post, the outpouring of emails, phone calls, messages on twitter, has been overwhelming. I turned off the comments because I didn't want anyone to feel pressure to say anything. I turned off the comments because sometimes it's just good to say what you need to say and be done with it, expecting nothing in return. But that isn't to say that the messages from all of you that have still reached me, haven't touched me deeply, because they have. 

If you ever question the goodness and care of people, the relationships that have been forged through blogging, I can attest to the fact that both of these things run strong and true. 

The trip to Hopkins with Mary was eye-opening and reassuring. I left feeling nothing but impressed with the care and concern of the doctors, with the way they communicate with each other and respect what each one brings to the table. You know that you are in good hands. 

Again, sparing the details, and after much back and forth with the doctors we are going to take a cautious, but relaxed approach to what has been going on with her. All those difficult words and procedures are going to be put on the back burner, hopefully never to be brought up again, if the course of action we are taking right now takes care of the problems at hand.

They were optimistic. Cautious, concerned, but optimistic that we didn't need to jump in the deep waters of diseases and treatments.

Again, I cannot say it enough, thank you. I hope that I haven't worried you all too much, but frankly, I was worried. All those possibilities and probabilities were a bit daunting to think about. But I feel good about where we are now. 

Sitting in the crowded waiting room of the Hopkins Children's Clinic, one can't help but be overwhelmed. I found myself catching eyes with other mothers, filling out forms, juggling babies on laps, pulling entertainment out of our bags of snacks, crayons and coloring books. They were looks of curiosity — why are you here? of understanding — we're going through something too. I sat in my seat and watched a mother testing blood sugar on one child and dolling out snacks, and filling a syringe and giving a shot in the arm of another child sitting in the stroller beside her. I went to the bathroom where a mother had every stall filled. Her son with no arm below the elbow, a toddler waiting patiently on the changing table, another in the other stall. And she was juggling it all with grace and patience, and even had the energy left to joke with me about taking up all the room. 

As we were leaving, Dan said to me, "It is amazing how well we can adapt." How suddenly when faced with something difficult that we think we could never or would never handle, we do. You look across the room at another mother and say, "I could never do what she does." And yet, if you needed to, you would and you could. 

I was thankful to walk out of that clinic with answers. With a good outlook for the future. With an end in sight. But I was also impressed, strengthened and inspired by the families that surrounded me in that waiting room. 

Even though I turned off the comments on my last post, the outpouring of emails, phone calls, messages on twitter, has been overwhelming. I turned off the comments because I didn't want anyone to feel pressure to say anything. I turned off the comments because sometimes it's just good to say what you need to say and be done with it, expecting nothing in return. But that isn't to say that the messages from all of you that have still reached me, haven't touched me deeply, because they have. 

If you ever question the goodness and care of people, the relationships that have been forged through blogging, I can attest to the fact that both of these things run strong and true. 

The trip to Hopkins with Mary was eye-opening and reassuring. I left feeling nothing but impressed with the care and concern of the doctors, with the way they communicate with each other and respect what each one brings to the table. You know that you are in good hands. 

Again, sparing the details, and after much back and forth with the doctors we are going to take a cautious, but relaxed approach to what has been going on with her. All those difficult words and procedures are going to be put on the back burner, hopefully never to be brought up again, if the course of action we are taking right now takes care of the problems at hand.

They were optimistic. Cautious, concerned, but optimistic that we didn't need to jump in the deep waters of diseases and treatments.

Again, I cannot say it enough, thank you. I hope that I haven't worried you all too much, but frankly, I was worried. All those possibilities and probabilities were a bit daunting to think about. But I feel good about where we are now. 

Sitting in the crowded waiting room of the Hopkins Children's Clinic, one can't help but be overwhelmed. I found myself catching eyes with other mothers, filling out forms, juggling babies on laps, pulling entertainment out of our bags of snacks, crayons and coloring books. They were looks of curiosity — why are you here? of understanding — we're going through something too. I sat in my seat and watched a mother testing blood sugar on one child and dolling out snacks, and filling a syringe and giving a shot in the arm of another child sitting in the stroller beside her. I went to the bathroom where a mother had every stall filled. Her son with no arm below the elbow, a toddler waiting patiently on the changing table, another in the other stall. And she was juggling it all with grace and patience, and even had the energy left to joke with me about taking up all the room. 

As we were leaving, Dan said to me, "It is amazing how well we can adapt." How suddenly when faced with something difficult that we think we could never or would never handle, we do. You look across the room at another mother and say, "I could never do what she does." And yet, if you needed to, you would and you could. 

I was thankful to walk out of that clinic with answers. With a good outlook for the future. With an end in sight. But I was also impressed, strengthened and inspired by the families that surrounded me in that waiting room. 

34 comments on “thank you”

  1. This made me cry. Those mothers are such an inspiration. You are such an inspiration. I’m praying for you and your family. Beautiful post with a beautiful heart behind it.

    Love, Light.

  2. I’m so glad you got some answers. And that they seem optimistic about it all.

    And my heart aches for all the families going through something like this. All the families you speak of. Extra prayers being sent up.

  3. I think it’s true, no one welcomes hardship but the strength to handle it is there. No one wants sadness but it can teach you that you’re tough after all.

    Your family is never far from my thoughts.

  4. Erin’s right. you are a good egg. a very good egg. in my thoughts constantly. that little something arrived for you too…will get it to you soon. xo.

  5. I’m glad we can reply to this one b/c I’ve been thinking about you and your family. I love what you wrote and I’m pleased to hear you are feeling better since the visit – reassurance is good.

  6. Your posts are always beautifullly written. Words can not express how inspirational you truly are! I hope Mary is on her way to a full recovery!

  7. This reminds me of when my oldest daughters father was involved in a car accident. We had been separated for years and he lived in another state. My mother, daughter and I drove straight through because they said he may not make it. As I sat there with my 5 year old, holding her… I, as you, looked around and said to myself, “Oh these poor people. God bless them! Please lighten their load!”. Ignoring the fact that the father was lying in a coma of two weeks after going through a shunt in his brain and a lot of other things. It is AMAZING how in the heart of such times, we always think of others… It is wonderful… I hope Mary does great!

  8. I amazing thing I have learned as a mother is that everything that I need to be able to do, I can. Yes certain things that haven’t happened still scare me, but now I believe that I can cope with them. I feel that this holds true for many mothers of which your words show you are one. Keep up the good work!

  9. You’re a good mom and a good woman, friend. In December when I was at St. Jude (Children’s Cancer Research Center) for a holiday market I was impressed by two things. One, even though things seemed tough for me right then, I have no real problems. Two, these families really know how to sustain themselves, love for their kids- they are strong, strong people. And you are a strong, strong woman. I’m glad you left with some answers. You and yours are always in my prayers.

  10. That was so good to read today. I was just told that my 20 month old who was speaking and hasn’t uttered a single word again for about six months need speech therapy. Although it’s nothing near to what you are going through it’s still tough and like you said (or your hubby) it’s something you never thought you’d be dealing with. Thanks so much for posting this and reassuring us that we are all doing our very best. Will be thinking of your family.

  11. Praying for you and your sweet Mary. God equips us to do what we need to do for our children, even though at times it is daunting. You are such a dear mother.

  12. I am so glad to read this, I could hear your worry in the last post. And I know just what you mean about the families you met, some of my fondest memories of working as a nurse are with critically ill children and the amazing, inspiring families they are a part of.

  13. Grace in the answers…I am so glad you have an answer for the moment. The hardest part, I swear, is in the not knowing. Happy that life can return to a new sort of normal now. (because it won’t ever be quite the same, will it?)

    Hugs to Mary. And hugs to you, sweet mama!

  14. Just catching up on all of my favorite blogs…been awhile. Sending you nothing but love and prayers friend. Thinking of you and your sweet family tonight as it begins to snow here in Virginia.

  15. I felt the same way when we made our trips to Johns Hopkins this past summer/fall for my daughter. Exactly the same way. ( I suppose I do hold back quite a bit on my blog.)

  16. Hi! So glad to hear. I am a new follower and have only been here a couple times , but was worried for you! As a momma of 3 and one on the way , Lord willing , I know what is like to deal with a child you are unsure of what is going on health wise and being preggo, emotions run high to say the least.Hang in there. Hopkins is a great place we are blessed to have these types of place to work with some of the best Dr’s in the Country. Trust those Mamma feelings, hope to hear you will get some answers.Praying-Kelly Kortright

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