I left the appointment feeling hopeful, but also filled with heartache.
A little over a year ago, her brother, not much older at the time than she is now, had a tube and adenoid procedure done. He had two parents there, so I was not alone with three kids before it began because daycare wasn't open before we had to be there, but he had two parents to take turns holding him while he woke from anaesthesia and to comfort him while he cried so hard his oxygen remained low.
A little less than a year ago, baby girl was in the hospital for three days with a fever of nearly 105, being tested for meningitis, spinal herpes, and various other things. Her dad had run off and though was receiving info, wouldn't so much as respond to a single message from anyone regarding the potential threat upon his toddler daughter's life. I sat there for most of those hours, exception a few where her wonderful aunt came, so I could go back to the homeless shelter/transitional housing place and check in (mandatory) and shower, holding her as she fought off the unexplained fever. She only had one parent.
One of my favorite songs has been in my head much of this evening as I sift through the outpouring of many emotions regarding these situations. "Scars are souvenirs we never lose. The past is never far... Reruns all become our history."
It feels so applicable tonight as I see so clearly the vignettes of last year, trying to mentally prepare for the upcoming procedures this year.
A dear friend pointed out we won't be alone. It's not just me, even if he isn't there, and quite frankly, I don't need or want him there to make a mess out of everyone's hearts. It may be true, but it doesn't make the ache completely vanish.
I know God's promises are true. I need to latch onto them again.