Today has been another rollercoaster day of hope and disappointments; of swinging between shock and rejoicing in glimmers of mercy.
We sat here, on my camp bed this evening, watching Heidi sleep, praying and counting our blessings...
We are so grateful for the fact that our baby girl is alive and kicking (literally). She is a little fighter and yet so contented, incredibly strong and yet so sweet. We are so blessed to have her. She is a little gift and has us entirely wrapped around her little finger. I know there's no such thing as a perfect baby, but I genuinely can't think of any way she could be any more delightful... I know that God has been merciful to us in that sense. I can't imagine having to go through this with a distressed or unhappy baby... her delightful nature just makes the whole thing so bittersweet - it sort of helps and breaks your heart at the same time to see her so happy...
We have been so blessed with the care we have received. Were we in another place, or time, the disease probably wouldn't even have been picked up and might have taken her... I can't thank God enough for the NHS...
Just writing this makes me cry. Makes me cry because I realise how very, very blessed we are that she is still here... how very blessed we are that there is an 8/10 chance that these arteries will heal themselves with time, so long as no clots develop in that process...
It makes me cry because I have cried with other mother's today. A lady came into the ward and broke down beside me... I saw myself in her. The dark Wednesday I will never forget, when we thought we had a baby on the mend and found out her life was on the line. When we thought we would lose our beloved baby girl... when we realised, with heart ache, that we had unknowingly kissed goodbye to our carefree, happy life where everything seemed so perfect, when the fear overwhelmed us of how this would affect our darling baby, our other baby, ourselves as a couple...
I sat with her as she broke down and told me what they had told her. And again, I realised how blessed we are to have hope. We have hope that Heidi may be able to live a completely normal life. It is not certainty... but it is hope.
This lady had been told there was very little they could do. My heart broke for her.
I long so much to go home, to draw a close to this chapter of the nightmare. And yet I'm so afraid of it too. Being here, I know that if Heidi's arteries clot, the Doctors are seconds away... going home feels big and scary and dangerous.
And so we swing - sorrow to joy, blessings to questions, fear to hope... and yet God is steadfast and certain and unmoveable. Our rock.
I am so glad He holds us tight.
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