August 19, 2008

Being together

Wild Thing has “graduated” from his highchair. He has his own chair at the table now, just like his sister. He fed himself breakfast and dinner yesterday, and ate all his oatmeal from his chair this morning. He talks. He makes his wishes known (“atch ’ooie, see Meemo fish”). I sneezed and he said “Bess do, bear.” (Everything is “bear” right now. “Sorry, bear.” “Hi, bear.” “Beeg bite, bear.”) He sings. He can follow directions. He swings in a “big kid” swing. And he says words that Ladybug never said at this age, such as “mine” and “my turn” and “NOW!!”

I can’t figure out when he changed from a homely little blueberry (yes, I said homely – he wasn’t a cute infant. I loved him, but he wasn’t a very cute or pretty infant. And he was really bruised when he was born, and bore the nickname “Blueberry” for a while) into the adorable, smart, busy little boy that he is today. Somehow, in the middle of all the circumstances that have been so all-consuming for me, he’s been growing up and getting bigger.

It seems a little bit wrong that while my life is seemingly at a standstill and my future is a vast empty space, his life has gone on. And it’s good – when I think about it sensibly, I know that I wouldn’t want Wild Thing or Ladybug to stop or regress or be delayed in any way. But at an emotional level, it’s gone by without me. Yes, I have been HERE. Yes, I have been present. And I have even been aware of it. Obviously I’ve dressed him in bigger clothes and helped him learn to walk and taught him words and intervened when the “NOW!” and the “MINE!” were conflicting with the shouts of “NO!!” from his sister.

But I want my life to go on, along with theirs. I want to get out of suspension mode, and continue with them. I want to be able to make plans for my sister’s 30th birthday. I want to create an amazing a Thanksgiving menu for my family. I want to decorate Christmas cookies with my daughter. I want to celebrate the new year with my husband. I want to live with them, and live fully with them.

It’s just hard. And I feel the clock counting down to Thursday at 3 o’clock. And I don’t want to leave them. For any length of time. Ever.

4 comments:

Denise K. said...

Mercy, I have been thinking about you and of course remembering you in my prayers as well. Your children sound just adorable, and I hope one day you will be able to post photos so we can all ooh and ahh with you! :-) (Our two started school this week, and I am now a free mom from 9-4 p.m. I often think how awesome it would be to have one day back when each of them was a toddler! You are so smart to savor and enjoy it fully!)

I will be keeping you in my prayers Thurs. at 3 p.m. I am praying that you get the best possible outcome, and ALL the time with your family in the future. If something does not go well, I was realizing we won't know...OR, do you have someone who can post for you? I will be so saddened to not hear from you, and hope we will be able to follow your story no matter what the future holds.

Enjoy today...take the kids out and live fully! I'm thinking of you!

emily said...

Mercy, I love the way you see the world. I know in some ways you have to see it through shades of grey and shadows of the unknown...but in moments like this when the fog lifts, it is obvious that you really see life and understand what it means to live it to the fullest...even if not as freely as you wish.

I will keep my eye on your blog for an update...

Hopefull said...

I have been visiting your blog for a few weeks now. At so many turns, your writing really blows me away. You are very gifted with much to share. I heard a pastor on the radio the other day say to Christians
"despair is not appropriate" and I said Amen.
Thank you for thinking theologically through your struggles and sharing with us.

stefanie said...

I'm still praying.