Example: As I was getting my latest c-section, I noticed if I looked hard enough, I could see the reflection of what they were doing (I.e. cutting me open to extract my child). Did I crack a joke? Why yes, yes I did.
It sounds crazy. My doctor commented on it months later, so it must've made an impression on her.
But it's how I deal with tough emotions.
I joke a lot about Evan and his medical issues.
Here's the reality: I am incredibly lucky to have Evan with me today. There were times his life was in the balance and I didn't even accept how bad off he was.
I've seen him stop breathing, I've seen him struggle, I've seen him slowly decline, and I finally saw him thrive.
The memory of him struggling to survive will never leave me. I will always worry about him.
He is doing fantastic, and I anticipate he will continue to do so. But there is no guarantee.
Our support group lost another baby yesterday. This child fought and was beautiful and really joyful and sweet. She was two years old. And something went wrong.
My heart hurts for her family. Hurts so bad.
I've recently seen many beautiful children pass away, some from cancer, some from complications associated with their omphalocele. I loved them, and I ache for their family.
The reality is that each and every person needs to realize that every day you have with your child is a treasure. It's a gift, it's phenomenal. Yes, it's tough and it's trying at times. But I can't help but feel grateful for every second.
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