My Cup

I hold my precious girl as I sob for my angel.

Rowan has endured five eye exams … among many other “things”. Her cry during these exams is absolutely heartbreaking. I can’t describe it, but I know it hurts. I sit in the room with her and the eye doctor and nurse. I am told I can leave the room because it can be tough. If my girl can stick it out, I can too. I don’t want to leave her side. I cringe and am on the verge of tears every time her tears start streaming. I’m not a masochist; this is just part of how I mother I guess.

I hear silence, confirm the exam is over, then scoop up my precious, brave girl. I hold her and am in awe of her bravery and strength.

I can’t believe she’s mine. I can’t believe I finally have her. My heart is so full. I thank Jesus for her as she snuggles against my chest. I ache for my Emmanuelle; I hold onto hope that Jesus is snuggling her in His arms.

I am vulnerable this week. I am starting to doubt Rowan’s homecoming in time for Christmas. It’s disappointing; I had daydreamed of Christmas Day with my family at home. I feel guilty too; my heart aches for my husband as I know he’d anticipated this as well.

It could be worse. I know. Trust me, I know. But I’ve hit a rock bottom that is so overwhelmingly fucked up – I just want my baby home for Christmas. I have endured my fair share of disappointments.

Melancholy.

The anticipated sleep deprivation hurts so good. These moments; these precious moments.

Her father and I watched videos of Rowan last night. Videos of her shortly after birth. I cried. It’s been a long, tough road.

I ache for Emme. The joy is overwhelming at the same time.

The gratitude also. That.

The Lord taketh, but – boy – does He give. My cup runneth over. Other happy assholes wouldn’t think so if they read my story.

But it does. It overflows.

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9 thoughts on “My Cup

  1. Your family is so brave and your story is book-worthy. You have demonstrated that gratitude can coexist with utter heartbreak. Only the wise few ever learn this.

    Hoping sweet Rowie will be home to kick off the New Year.

  2. it is striking that you can feel such gratitude after all that you have been through. It is a testament to what an open heart you have.
    I hope Rowan gets to come home for Christmas. I know you can’t get attached to that, but that would be a healing turn of events if you all got to spend Christmas at home.

  3. I absolutely love how you write! It’s so emotional and heartfelt. Right down to the “other happy assholes”. It cracks me up every time. Probably should make me laugh. I know you’re serious. I just love it! I hope she’s home for Christmas. It’s my wish for you!

  4. You are such a good example of how to be grieving yet rejoicing, sorrowful yet thankful. It takes so much maturity. I am very touched by your attitude.

    Sad to hear that Rowan has had to undergo so many eye tests. I know that must be very painful for you both. And sorry that she may not be home in time for Christmas. I hope you get a Christmas surprise and she does get to come home. Or no later than New Years at least. 🙂

  5. Hoping from afar you get your Christmas wish. What a brave little girl Rowan is, so much for her to go through, it is so unfair.
    Thinking of you all… Everyday.

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