WHAT I’M CURRENTLY READING: Pokémon with my oldest daughter.
WORK IN PROGRESS: 76, 607 words
There is no easy way to prepare this child of mine for surgery, she’s been through if far too many times before to allow the innocence of the unknown to fool her.
This child of mine isn’t like any that I may write about in a story. She’s independent, strong-willed, and shy. She’s different – not because of the attributes I describe, but because she was born that way.
A nurse pointed it out when she was first-born, and when she was three she discovered it own her own. They called it a hemangioma. There is a difference between her and me. She has it, I don’t. Neither do most of us.
Most children discover they have blue eyes and mom may have brown. Hair colors vary, and noses carry from one generation to the next.
Hemangiomas are becoming more wide-spread today, then they were when I was being born. One in every ten babies will bear the mark of a vascular birthmark – a.k.a. Hemangioma.
It is that difference between my children that makes me love her the way I do,because she’s learned to take it in stride. One doctor visit at a time. New friends, all alike – yet different in the same way. All patients dealing with hemangiomas.
Both my girls have been touched by vascular anomalies. My oldest daughter having been blessed and cursed with the more complicated version, where as my youngest will never have to see a surgeon.
Last week we ended our family vacation and headed to Philly to Children’s Hospital where my oldest daughter had her last surgery (or so we pray) to remove the last of her hemangioma and reshape her upper lip.
It’s been a long journey. Some writers take months,even years, to complete a story. Some mothers, like me, take a lifetime drafting their children, directing their action, and praying for good end results.
I believe God chooses our children for us. We give birth to them, adopt them, babysit them, and become involved in their lives by appointment. It’s been a long said cliché’ that God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle. Even in our weakest moments He lays upon us the situations that will make us stronger and introduces us to the people who will carry us through our journey.
Now that it’s over, I just want to hold her.
There’s nothing like getting that super-ala-uper hug at night, and holding on for just one more squeeze. “Mom!” She protests, “Your squeezing to hard.”
…or at least until tomorrow when I hear, “Mom, did you forgot something?”
Thank you all for your prayers these past few days for my oldest daughter. Her surgery went well, and now we are all in recovery. I am thankful too, on these hot summer days, that we have accumulated enough Pokémon books to keep her content and out of the sun while she heals.
Who knows, perhaps one day, this child of mine will have a story tell of her own.