Monday, December 31, 2012

Reflections...

As I sit in our family's house in the mountains, it is impossible not to reflect on the last year.  We were up here for Christmas in 2011 when I drove down to take the blood test to find out if Vallyn had Down Syndrome.  And we were still up here when I got the phone call letting me know the test was positive.  We fretted and worried about whether or not we would be able to come up here with Vallyn on oxygen, if she would be strong enough.  We came up here for longer and longer periods of time to test how her lungs and heart would do.  We were able to introduce her to so many who matter so much to us up here.  And we are ending our year up here much as we did back in 2011 - with a marathon of The Walking Dead and playing games.  But there is one big difference.

This year, Vallyn is with us.  Not in my belly.  Out here, with us.  Where we can hold her. 

2012 brought a lot for our little family of three to handle.  A Down Syndrome diagnosis.  A troublesome fetal echocardiogram.  A lot more echocardiograms and non stress tests.  A birth and a newborn whisked straight into the NICU and given assistance breathing.  A heart surgery.  A little one swallowing her milk into her lungs.  An appendectomy.  Two bouts of mastitis.  Skin biopsies.  A 40th birthday.  A scare about a possible pacemaker.  More diagnostic tests and two procedures under anesthesia.  A knee surgery.  Lots of tears and fears sprinkled liberally throughout the year.  And countless other bumps in the road.

However, it has also brought us new friends.  Lots of new knowledge - about ourselves, Down Syndrome, and medical stuff in general.  A deeper and more open and transparent and honest relationship between myself and my husband, as well as many friends and family members.  A newfound appreciation for our insurance plan (amen!).  A realization of just how truly blessed we actually are.  A greater awareness of my relationship with God.  A strength I didn't know I had within myself.  More tears of joy than I ever imagined I'd be lucky enough to cry.  And best of all, an amazing, strong, happy, radiant, precious, beautiful baby girl - Vallyn Grace.

When we drove up to the mountains late Saturday night, as we came into town I saw a huge cross lit up atop the mountain across the valley.  I said "Jason - look at that!" and he said "Oh, it was there last Christmas too.".  I didn't remember it being there.  And as we got out of the car, I noticed that it was still visible at the house, up in the sky, shining brightly.

And it hit me.

Just like that cross, God has been here.  Watching over us.  This whole past year.  Always.

Even if I didn't feel Him with me.  Or see Him.  Or even look for Him.

When things were wonderful, and when things were hard.

When I was surrounded by love, and when I felt so so alone.

In prayers answered, and in prayers gone unanswered.

He was there. 

And I see that this past year has been chock full of miracles.  Some were quiet and itty bitty and I had to look really hard to know they were there.  Some were loud and in my face and brought me to my knees with gratitude and humility.  And others were things that didn't seem like anything resembling a miracle, but given time, that's exactly what they turned out to be.

I don't know what we ever did to receive all of these blessings.  But I am so incredibly thankful for each and every one.

So is there a big difference between this new year's eve and the last?  Oh yes.  The sense of worry and sadness that permeated New Year's Eve last year is replaced with one of love, anticipation and expectation.  Who knows what 2013 will bring?  No matter what, there will be change.  And there are sure to be plenty of both happy and sad tears.  And it will probably be pretty far from boring.

So this isn't really the end of anything.

It's only the beginning...

Thursday, December 27, 2012

These days after Christmas...

Yesterday was a tough day for me.  It wasn't anything specific.  Just a really busy day with getting to and from appointments and running around and feeling so rushed.  But nothing out of the ordinary.

Today is another tough one.  Vallyn goes to Children's Hospital for a few procedures and diagnostic tests while under anesthesia.  Nothing too major, but knowing she's going to get poked and prodded always provokes anxiety for me.  It takes me back to our days in the NICU watching them try to start IVs in her tiny veins and hearing her cry.

It seems like every year, regardless of where I am or who I am with, there is always this sense of "What now?" in the days following Christmas.  Maybe it's just all the crazy commercialism build-up, or the rushing around trying to get so many things done before Christmas, or the actual day of Christmas with the opening of gifts and the going to dinners and rush rush rush.  Then it's all just over.  And you say "What's next?" or "On to the next holiday/thing/diversion!".  And you jump back into real life, like we did yesterday.  Or how we're really jumping into reality today.

But I received my daily miracle during a phone call yesterday in the midst of all the chaos.  I was speaking to a woman we've come to know and treasure at the medical supply company where we get Vallyn's oxygen supplies.  We were wrapping up our call when she said "You know, I want to thank you for sending that Christmas card with Vallyn's pictures on it.  It is hanging in my cubicle, and every day people come and look at it, and I look at it, and we just smile.  So I want you to know that every day, your little girl makes someone smile."

Of course this made me cry.  Happy tears.  Because I know what her smile does to my heart.  It opens it wide up and calms it and I feel like I am seeing the embodiment of love or looking straight into the gates of Heaven.  Even if it's just a brief glimpse.  And I am so incredibly thankful for that gift every single time.  What a wonderful gift if she can give that feeling to others!

And her smile is what I will cling to today as they take her off for her procedures.  It is what I dreamt of when I learned I was pregnant.  It is what I spend hours waiting for as I stalk her with my camera.  It is what she gives me every morning when I go to get her out of her crib.  It is what I do really silly and embarrassing things to try to elicit from her.  It is what I already cannot wait to see after she wakes up.  It lights up the room. 

And it is my shining beacon on those not-so-shiny days.


Saturday, December 22, 2012

What a difference a year makes...

One year ago today, I got a phone call from the perinatologist that turned my world upside down and shook my faith to the core.  I was told that our baby girl had Down Syndrome.  I cried and lamented and begged God for it not to be happening.  I would have told you it was the worst day of my life.

But one short year later, I cry tears of joy!

I cannot believe the blessing that we have been given in our sweet Vallyn Grace.  I could never have fathomed last December 22nd just how happy this little girl could make me.  I thank God every single day (multiple times!) for the gift He has given us.

Miracles are everywhere.  They are out there.  But you have to look.  And believe.

Because at first, they may not seem to be miracles at all...