I've been chewing clove potpourri the whole day. Have you ever had dry sockets after your wisdom teeth were removed? The doc strung up this long piece of brown stuff soaked in some sort of concoction, wrapped it up and put it in the hole in my mouth. It's like having gum where the flavor never ends, clove gum.
Here I am babbling about things that don't really matter. I've been doing that lately. My mind and emotions check out and I find it hard to focus on anything in the here and now that's actually important.
The past few weeks my hands have been pried off my boy even more. And I don't know what to do with it. I find myself worrying about completely pointless things and glossing over huge things.
Take today for example. It was the day I'd been waiting for for several weeks. The day I got the results from the ENT from Calvin's airway study. The day we would hear how long Calvin has to live (according to medical estimation of course). Today came and I really could have cared less about going.
I sat quietly composed while the compassionate doctor looked carefully at me and said, "I'd estimate he has two, maybe three years to live." I asked the appropriate questions and held it all together. No tears came even though I knew they should be. We sat discussing the immediate threats to Calvin's life and the most likely way he would die and it felt like we were discussing another child, not mine.
As we left the building all I could think about was grabbing a brochure from the front about the history of the building. (The docs office is in a historical home). Then I realized how horrible and callous it was that I cared about a building when I held fading life in my arms.
This grief thing, it comes in waves and leaves you numb, tired, empty. Sometimes it seems like there are no more tears to cry and nothing more to say.
Tomorrow Hospice is coming and all I can think of is taking my kids to the beach and feeling the wind on my face.
Here I am babbling about things that don't really matter. I've been doing that lately. My mind and emotions check out and I find it hard to focus on anything in the here and now that's actually important.
The past few weeks my hands have been pried off my boy even more. And I don't know what to do with it. I find myself worrying about completely pointless things and glossing over huge things.
Take today for example. It was the day I'd been waiting for for several weeks. The day I got the results from the ENT from Calvin's airway study. The day we would hear how long Calvin has to live (according to medical estimation of course). Today came and I really could have cared less about going.
I sat quietly composed while the compassionate doctor looked carefully at me and said, "I'd estimate he has two, maybe three years to live." I asked the appropriate questions and held it all together. No tears came even though I knew they should be. We sat discussing the immediate threats to Calvin's life and the most likely way he would die and it felt like we were discussing another child, not mine.
As we left the building all I could think about was grabbing a brochure from the front about the history of the building. (The docs office is in a historical home). Then I realized how horrible and callous it was that I cared about a building when I held fading life in my arms.
This grief thing, it comes in waves and leaves you numb, tired, empty. Sometimes it seems like there are no more tears to cry and nothing more to say.
Tomorrow Hospice is coming and all I can think of is taking my kids to the beach and feeling the wind on my face.
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| Hi baby, you love this weather, don't you?! |
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| My nephew, Nick, on duty with his two cousins, Quinn and Calvin. |
9 comments:
Dear Kara, I hear you. I know, how you can hear the words and yet you can not let them into. your. heart. Because today, you have this amazing, precious boy in your arms, and today, you can kiss his nose, and memorize the smell of his hair, and tell him, once again, how precious he is in God's sight. And today, you can bless the Lord, that he has given you Calvin, and it is enough. Because tomorrow.. nobody has. And only our Father knows, what He has in store for us. Nobody is guaranteed their tomorrow..
praying for you tonite~
karla
Thank you Kara, for sharing from your heart. God knows what's in your heart, and He understands beyond our wildest imaginings. I wish I could be there for you, but know that you are loved for you, just exactly as you are, a precious child of God, just like your baby boy! Thanks for the photos too! I just love the top one of Calvin. It's just beautiful, just like him! Praying that God will give you a wonderful day tomorrow/today and that you will have some fun times with your other kiddos. Love you.
Thank you once again for sharing your heart. Those pictures are just too cute. Did you have your wisdom teeth out on top of your busy life? Praying for strength and comfort for you and Daryl and your precious kiddos. Thanks so much for posting that video of Calvin laughing a while back. It was so awesome. It have me this huge gigantic smile that I couldn't wipe off!
Kara, I truly cannot fathom the depths of this trial for you and the family. I do know the One who is holding you up above the crushing waves...the solid rock upon which you stand. I'm praying that you will feel the strength of His sustaining arms and the peace of His voice, "I will never leave you nor forsake you"...Much love to you from Cambodia.
The only thing I have to relate is the illness and death of my brother at 14 ... lots of crying ... lots of staring hollowly at drops of water in the shower for minutes on end. And since having children of my own, I know this isn't the same thing at all. Both horrible, but just not the same thing.
Praying for you and yours today. I hope the beach is just lovely and truly enjoyable.
Dear Kara,
Your honesty in your blog and especially this last post is so refreshing and I'm sure you touch so many people in your honest sharing of your grief process. I know it always touches me. My struggles are much different and yet I can relate..We are all living in this broken world and need to uplift each other and continue pointing eachother to the Saviour.
Such precious photos, Kara! And your honesty in this blog and all of your posts is so appreciated...and the responses from your Cambodian friends are always a blessing to me, as well! How true what Sarah wrote..."We are living in this broken world" and God does give us each other...one day at a time, my friend! Hugs to You, Darryl, Sophie, Noah, Evie and Calvin! Do hope to see you all this week!
Much love,
Roelie
I've been chewing on this post for a while, too...so often feels like I have nothing of consequence to say, but you all are always close to my heart. Thank you for sharing so beautifully; God uses your sharing to keep us in prayer for you.
Your post here has been on my mind for several days now.... I hope the hospice transition is going well; please know Dan & I love you guys and pray for you often, asking God for physical comfort for Calvin and spiritual comfort for the 2 of you.
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