First day of six

Panting now, walking through the long hallways... and which elevator was it to get to the lobby???

The further I get from her the worse it feels....just this growing sense of injustice? Not Why, but How?? And What the hell is going to happen? How can anything happen with all this silence and stillness?

However, if I don't get outside, if I don't breathe unfiltered air, I WILL panic. This much is clear so I keep roving.

Finally I'm out and I turn to look at the seemingly immense building, riddled with tiny windows and stacks of storm, this giant, the only thing protecting my broken, tiny, unmoving, love of my life. My smallest angel.

Isn't it funny how images of angels are tiny, and she was only six pounds when she was born. She is my light as both my babies are, as any mother would say at the foot of the hospital that houses them on the eve of a surgery that may or may not work to save them.

Will she ever be able to leave this place. I didn't know? No one did. She was not even three years old.

She did. We have photos!

Joyous pictures of the little face so happy to be able to go home and return to toys, and the familiar scents and sounds of her home. My daughter left her ordeal, and was granted a continuity in her little life.

Not only that but a massive raise in quality. No more pain, well not nearly the amount as before.

Now today. Three years later, she has turned six years old.  Three years after the trauma. Moving into herself like a mermaid. So fluid. So visciral. She is everything that is happening NOW and nothing before or after. I am continued to be amazed at my luck and gratitude that not only have I had the grace to walk through such adversity but to have been a part of the triumph party to it. I was on the side of the winning this time and it was the event that would have stopped my heart. I have been so so lucky and blessed.

And now on to six. My little six. Enchanted by EVERYTHING. Stopped by nothing. Coming out of the woodwork like seed free boysenberry jelly. The kind that the three little bears slathered on their biscuits after goldy locks fled. She weeps innocence and it seeps into my pores when we slumber. It comes out of her every movement. I can smell it on my sweaters when I put her down to watch her run into her kindergarten class with the confidence of a boxer. When she grabs a hold of me, arms around my neck and loves me strongly, I can feel her in my soul.

How did we get here? What did I do t deserve this wondrous evolution? It's so amazing to me that my daughters effect me so intensely. Especially at six. Six. Last day of five was in the dust as she rose to her laughter and held the hands of trusted others! She rises!!! I am so proud. So, So relived. I have been lucky enough to see two beautiful girls reach six. Onward and upwards.

Comments

[Kristen Stills]

Oh so beautifully put. And what a journey it has been. I marveled at her feistiness yesterday growling at Matt when he was pretending not to see her!!!! Her strength has grown exponentially each day since her surgery. Her soul, firmly cementing into her body as the teeth come flying in. Thank you for sharing these words, these potent memories of a mother processing a tremendously difficult journey.
XO