When life is quiet we think it’s loud, but when the whirlwind hits it’s deafening. I went in and out of four hospitals in seven days. My sister had a beautiful baby girl, Emily, and my daughter had urgent knee surgery. I wanted to be in so many places at once to help. I felt the greatest joy holding my niece for the first time and felt the world crashing down as I watched the doctors wheel my daughter into surgery.
These are the ebbs and flows of life: I walked away sobbing. I sat in an empty waiting room alone. My older sister had just left and I was waiting for my husband to arrive. The three hour wait was agonizing. I cried and prayed. I received countless calls and messages and felt deeply the love and well wishes of family and friends. I could not help but think of the two-sided coin of the moment. When the doctor hands your child to you for the first time, and when they take them away to—hopefully—make them better.
These are the ebbs and flows of life: Your heart is broken in pieces for obvious and secret reasons, and yet full of joy and love for the little and big miracles that are laid upon your lap. Assorted feelings that leave you in tears. Tears full of joy and tears full of despair. Thankful tears and tears of exhaustion. It is in these times that I take big breaths. I try to feel the moment. I release the emotion knowing that as terrible as it feels it will not last forever.
These are the ebbs and flows of life: As she was being wheeled into surgery I told the nurse that I was aware that there were much worse things in this world than knee surgery, but that I just wanted my baby to be okay in the end. I know she must have heard these words from a desperate mother before, but I could not stop myself from saying them aloud. The waiting room had a screen that displayed the patients’ initials and the progress report next to it. “Surgery in Progress” were the words that lit up the room in green next to my daughter’s initials for hours. When I finally saw it change over to a blue screen, “In Recovery”, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. My baby was out of surgery.
These are the ebbs and flows of life: A few days later I was able to hold my niece again. I had missed her after spending the day in the hospital with my sister, her husband, and their newborn baby. It had all come full circle. Our babies, at whatever age, are our babies for life.
These are the ebbs and flows of life. Ride them as they come is really all you can do—and stay present and connected with whatever feelings you find yourself swimming in.
Thoughts At F___ It Forties 