750 words

5 Mar

Thanks to a friend on Facebook, I was introduced to 75words this morning.  It’s a perfect way to start my mornings, just a free writing prompt to get me going first thing every morning.  Today, before I even had my coffee, I got my thoughts out.  I wrote this:

I finally lost three pounds this week after three weeks of scale frustration, and I feel so relieved.  Of course I am also amused, since it is nothing short of ironic to discover weight loss on the week when I went out, drank a margarita, ate homemade birthday cake for breakfast, skipped a workout, and likely underestimated the points consumed on my Mexican birthday dinner.  All the same, I am really happy to see loss again, and now I am even more excited by tomorrow’s charity walk.

If I am being honest, I would have to admit that I am a little bit nervous about the walk.  I have to walk five miles, and it’s been a long time since I did that without stopping a lot.  I am worried I will forget my good shoes, forget to bring water, and somehow be unable to finish.  I am worried that my friends will be in significantly better shape than I am and I will be holding them back.  All of this is stupid though.  We’re out there to support Children’s Hospital, to celebrate the institution that saved my daughter’s life, and that is what I should focus on tomorrow.  If I had thought about it sooner, I would have tried to have shirts made with her name and face on them.

Sometimes when I think back, when I remember the week she was so sick… I don’t know.  It hurts me to think about it.  I feel the same fear and worry that I did then, knowing now that she was slowly starving and too small and fragile and young to tell us about it.  She was literally dying, and thanks to a flash of mother’s intuition, I was able to insist on her being seen by the doctor.  They rushed her to Children’s Hospital, she had a quick surgery, and less than two weeks later she was a different baby.  It was nothing short of a miracle.  I look at her now, growing and thriving and doing everything she can to walk (though she can’t yet), and I can’t believe that it is the same little girl who had emergency surgery at three weeks old for a “failure to thrive” condition.  And now she’s perfect.  You’d never know, except for the tiny little scars on her belly that I think will be nearly invisible by the time she’s a teenager.

She is such a miracle to me, and I am so thankful that she’s alright.  Thank you, Dr. Bear.  Thank you, Children’s Hospital.  Thank you to our surgeon, our nurses, the sweet woman in the emergency room, and the amazing surgery tech/nurse who couldn’t bear to wheel her back to the operating room in that huge metal bassinet, but instead cradled our sweet tiny girl in her arms and carried her away from us and into that cold operating room.  I was glad she didn’t have to go alone.  I was terrified too, but the time passed so quickly that I almost didn’t have the time to be afraid.  We had lunch at the hospital cafeteria.  I had pizza and some weird juice that turned out to be surprisingly good.  We were headed back to the room and got waylaid because I wanted to tie-dye a onesie for her… and before we could even get the process started, the beeper went off to let us know she was coming out of surgery.  My heart flip-flopped.  We practically ran to the waiting room.

I remember being scared to see her, worried that she would look bad or be frighteningly still under the influence of the anesthesia.  Instead, she was just Evi, small and fragile and sleeping.  She was beautiful and perfect, and she began to wake up slowly as we stood by and held her hand.  She looked lovely in the peach hospital gown, which was baby sized but still too big for her tiny frame…

Nothing is too big now.  She’s growing like a weed, she’s too tall for all of her clothing.  She will be tall like her father, and I couldn’t be happier about it.  When I think back, I remember how quickly she got better, and now the whole thing feels distant, like something that happened to someone else.  I can’t look at her and see that sick, pitiful girl.  She’s totally hidden by the robust, strong baby I have now, and I am so glad for that.  I go and should buy her something peach.

Advertisements

2 Responses to “750 words”

  1. Bex March 5, 2010 at 10:39 am #

    I’m so proud of you for working on your health! You’re not holding anyone back in walking. We’re walking to be there with you, silly goose. 🙂 And I for one am super glad walking the 5 mile is allowed instead of running like a crazy person. Writing it on my hand now: Heather-shoes, water. OMG! Can we make shirts? They will be fabulous. I can draw a simple cartoon version of Evi on paper and we can trace them onto shirts really quickly tonight with puffer paint. 🙂

    She is a miracle. She is a beautiful miracle full of love and hope. She’s going to grow into an amazing, wonderful woman one day, not only because she’s just plain spectacular, but because she has two of the best parents in this world.

  2. Wondy March 5, 2010 at 3:11 pm #

    You are going to do us all proud as you always do, because you’re Heather. I love this post, it’s poignant and pretty and loving. Good luck my darling x

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: