How this Special Needs Momma finds her Peace

They approach her bed, something is fiercely wrong.  Her alarms sound quicker and louder, sounds I have never heard before; noises I cannot connect with the reality that is vastly falling around me. 

I watch her lying there, nearly lifeless, although she must be living, the alarms tell me at least this much is true, so why isn’t she moving? Why isn’t she responding to their shaking, their vigorous rubbing, their claps, their yells.

I stand there completely still, as if I am not there at all.  I now know the truth and it isn’t safe with me.  I have no idea what to do.  I feel useless, afraid.  I close my eyes and try to find my peace.

It’s hard to imagine not having that one place your mind can always turn to; that one security, a place no one can harm you even in plain sight.  The world and all it’s unthinkables cannot touch you there.  The flesh wounds that each day inflicts are healed here.  In this place I am safe.  In this place I find my peace.

It’s 3 A.M. an ominous light peers through the window as I lie awake in a hospital bed.  It outlines everything unfamiliar that surrounds me, ending it’s design at the jarred door.  The hall lights are dimmed, like a drug store that has been closed for the night.  My family is tucked away elsewhere, my kids fast asleep.  I am alone.

 

I am here to rest and recover, but resting I cannot do.  Nothing here is familiar, or mine.  Even the pain inside my body feels foreign.  The blankets that are meant to keep me warm are brittle from years of being bleached and reused.

The IV pumps, forcefully, interrupting my thoughts.  This is not my place.  I close my eyes and try to find my peace.

As I finish my nightly routine making sure all of my children are tucked gently into bed I too find my way to my resting spot.  As I climb in my worries begin falling steadily to the floor.  I roll on my back, the softness of my mattress consumes me.  I exhale deeply, and inhale again.  In this place I am safe.  I close my eyes and try to find my peace. 

I take a look at my daughter.  She has more medical interventions than I have seen most people manage outside the walls of a hospital.  Some days I wonder just how we got here, and could we ever go back? It hurts to think about the choices we made and how different things may have been if we had just done “a” instead of “b” or the reverse.  Thinking like this does not help, it only leads to more pain, a heart that bleeds tears that sting the flesh.  I close my eyes and try to breathe.  My chest feels heavy.  I try again to find my peace.

Night:

You had a rough day.  You cannot go back in time.  Searching for reasons only brings more questions.  Searching for questions, never seems to bring answers.  You have made your choices.  The road you chose to take was a one way road.  It is too far gone now to turn back, just breathe.

Morning:

If you got through yesterday you can get through today.  Put one foot in front of the other.  You can only move forward.  Moving forward can never get you behind.  Go, move, and find your peace.

My day begins and ends with the only place I need to be, immersed in my faith.  It is the pacifying warmth that protects me from a world that is a little too flawed.  In my faith, This is where I move through the pain, despite the pain.  This is where I am safe, this is where I have peace.