Goodbye, Tuesday. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
This was Audrey's first blood draw so we talked about and role played what they would do. We also brought her favorite music on the Ipod (Jamie Grace's Beautiful Day) and her favorite stuffed animal, Raja. Maybe those things helped a little, but I still had to hold my daughter's hand as she wept scared tears and said how badly it hurt over and over again.
It can be so hard to love someone this much. These little people that enter the world with a breath and a cry and change everything. Absolutely everything.
I had Isaac, my first baby, on a Wednesday and at that time my favorite show was ER. I was in the hospital on Thursday night and turned on the little TV hanging from the corner of the room and cried throughout the entire show. What just one week earlier had been a fun drama to watch with my husband had become a depressing showcase of all the things that are terribly wrong and dangerous about the world my perfect baby had just been born into. Yes, I blame some of that on hormones, but I blame a whole lot of it on this overwhelming, protecting love that had been born in me when that baby was born from me.
Right now my daughter is hurting. And I want to take away her hurts. All of them. Forever. Because that's what mamas want to do.
But we can't. We can only be there. Day in and day out. We can only sit there, holding hands and rubbing hair, wiping tears and singing favorite songs, listening to their fears and answering their questions and always, always, always loving. Always.
My moment was watching ER in the hospital. Do you have a moment when you realized just how gut-wrenching this loving another human was going to be? Whether it's a spouse or a child or a friend.