“How do you do it? How do you think about the future for our kids and all they are at risk for?” There we were, both of us T21 & Heart Mamas chatting it up in the hospital hall. Her daughter had just been through a surgery very similar to the one my daughter had a year earlier. I was there to offer moral support & a hug because once you’ve been there, you can’t NOT be there for those who follow. Her very honest, very legitimate question hit me in the heart. Because we all face that quandary at some point. I certainly have. More than once. And although my experience could barely count as any more than hers, being just a few months ahead on the same journey, I tried to offer what I had: “I don’t. I don’t think about the future. I think about today, and let the rest be.” And I meant it.
Please know that I am, by nature, a very anxious person. And that following my own advice above is a constant battle for me. I have often wondered why God would give me a life where instead of being able to tell myself, “Annie, you’re probably over-thinking things and your fears are unfounded, get a grip!” as I always have, now many of my worst fears and OCD approaches to managing situations are actually medically justifiable 😫 So, extreme fear? I get it.
We are all so anxious these days, wondering what is coming and how long it will last. Trying our best to prepare. Walking around in the dark. A therapist once told me that you can’t live in “What ifs” (and I am SOOO good at ‘what ifs!’). And that’s true. What-if land is the fast track to crazy and a thief of any potential for joy in the present.
When Lydia was born, EVERYTHING seemed like a giant question mark. “What is Down Syndrome? What will that look like for us? What obstacles will we face? What about her heart? Will she make it? Will I? What is our future and is there any light in it, at all?”
These are the questions that tore my heart apart, guys. And they all hit me at the same time an innocent baby was placed in my arms that I was charged to love and to help, always.
...
The morning after I gave birth to Lydia; the morning after the longest, most painful, zero sleep & 100% anguish night of my life. I decided to let go of the “what ifs” for a second and just go be with my baby. As we sat in a rocking chair in the very back of the NICU, me broken & recovering in every sense of the word and her inert and covered in tubes and wires, I looked at that little face and with tears in my eyes, thought: “This is you, this is me, and this is today. We can do today.”
And that’s what we’ve been doing ever since. Through six months of quarantine while my boys lived with their grandparents. Through two heart surgeries and the recovery. Through 18 months on oxygen support and two more winters of ‘social distancing.’ Through dr appointments and sleep studies and RSV and sleepless nights and starting a new job and buying a house and missing weddings/church/outings and COVID-19 and homeschooling and ALL THE THINGS. One day, at a time.
I am a normal person. I am an anxious person. 50% of the week I am a barely functioning person 😅 But we go on. One day at a time.
Remember how the Lord gave the children of Israel enough mana for one day at a time? He still does that. And that’s how we survive.
In your anxious faces and words I see so much of myself. Both where I have been and where I am now. And although I am scarcely qualified to give any advice, I offer you what I have: Don’t think about the what-ifs. Prepare, but live in the moment. Trust God, and just do today. “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness... For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.” And you know what? Alongside all the crazy, I’ve seen a lot of really beautiful todays. I think they even shine a little brighter. 💛
