"The sun is so healing", that's what I kept reminding myself as I laid in bed from nine to noon today. My pain was so intense, I was just laying there, occasionally glancing at the window and gauging the wind by the movement of the tree tops across the street. The pain meds the doctor gave me have pretty much shut down my digestive system, thus, at this point, I'm dealing with the pain. I decided I couldn't take it anymore and took some meds, telling myself that the "sun is so healing".
I grabbed two books from my stash next to my bed and tucked them in the waistband of my yoga pants. I only made it successfully down the stairs with the one book and had to climb more than half way up to retrieve the other.
I got outside to our back patio, sat, propped my foot up and closed my eyes. "The sun is so healing." I just sat there, feeling the warmth of the sun. I've decided it's one of my favorite things.
My mind began to think and process my two hardest trials in this whole surgery and recovery process: how Eden and Micah are dealing.
When I first crutched in the door last Thursday, Eden saw me and her little chin dimpled followed by her lip quivering. I was prepared for this, and expected that sort of reaction from her. What I didn't expect, was that five days later, I still hadn't held her, she still hadn't even sat on my lap. My heart, which is prayerfully guarded, began to hurt. I intentionally focused my thoughts on Micah and how he's come up with his own way of dealing.
Sunday afternoon, Micah began crying when Mike would put him down and we noticed he wouldn't walk. He would quickly lift his foot up off the ground and then all together refused to walk and would only crawl. Mike and I decided if symptoms like this continued, he'd have to take him in. We kept checking to see if he had any bruising or marks and racking our brains of when he could've gotten hurt. As we discussed, Micah got up and walked to the window. then he walked to get a toy and continued on until he reached the kitchen. Mike and I stared at each other with our mouths open. Seriously? He was totally fine, and we quickly thanked God for answering our prayers, thankful that our little boy was fine.
My writings from outside stopped there, interrupted by my little girl staring at me from the other side of the patio door. It was nap time and she had escaped, but I could tell by the expression on her face that she was doubting her decision of being in her room versus being with me. My arms ached for her and I beckoned her to come to me. She was so hesitant. But she came.
She walked slowly to me and reached up her arms for me to hold her. I cried, of course. I sat there, holding her, and remembering how wonderful this feeling was, and promising myself that I'd never take this for granted. It only lasted a few minutes, but it was precious and so dear to me.
Both kids have been fine ever since, a few days ago.
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