I was on my hands and knees picking up craft pompoms, pretend baby bottles, shape blocks, and puzzle pieces. (btw, this is horribly painful when you are 36hrs post-TDaP shot.) The house was silent, which is a rarity. Pandora had timed out, the Mechanic was at EMT class, the kids had gone down easily at 1900. And a song phrase ran through my head that I'd been pondering off and on since hearing it this morning. I'd first been introduced to it at our church the first week in Glasgow, but it'd been quite a while since I'd heard it.
"You are peace, You are peace, when my fear is crippling."
I've been in desperate need of that peace. My fear, my anxiety, has gotten to the point of crippling. I've needed to cry and release some of the tension, but I haven't been able to find that release. The anxiety is too deep to be released by crying over some sappy movie or song. But finally, as I sat on the couch this afternoon, holding my phone with the MRI report and a notebook next to me (those things have been within arms reach of me pretty much constantly since Monday), a few hot tears spilled out. I was sitting there thinking how there were tons of things I needed to be doing, but I couldn't focus on any task long enough to finish. I was so angry that this doctor wasn't calling me back. I blamed him for my failing my glucose tolerance test.
And I wanted to know, where is this peace? Cause I didn't have an ounce of it.
And while picking up the swath the two toddler hurricane had left behind, it occurred to me.
I'm placing my trust in doctors. We pray every night for the doctor to call us and tell us he will help Ladybug's head so she can learn easier and not hurt.
And while you do need to trust the doctors who are making sure your child continues breathing while under anesthesia, and you really need to trust the doctors who are slicing your kid's head apart, ultimately... while they are tools, they aren't the healer.
I'm angry. I'm frustrated. But, this doctor is not the end-all of my child's healing. God can use him, if He so chooses. Or God can slam the door shut in my face and say no, this doctor isn't going to do surgery on your child. Or God can say no surgery at all. He can heal her without surgery. He can chose not to heal her at all, with or without surgery. I'm trying to play God. I'm trying to manipulate circumstances in the way I see fit. That is part of my job as mama bear, in a way... but I also need to realize that I'm not completely in control. And neither is the doctor. And neither are the two, or three, of us put together.
The only way I'm going to get peace is to realize that God is the one in charge of my child's brain and skull, not me. Not the doctor. Not the other doctor. Not the other other doctor. And I've got to trust Him enough to be willing to say, You know best, and I chose to trust You.
Nothing can prepare you for parenting...