There has been a lump in my throat that I could suffocate
in. I've watched the calendar approach, anticipating this day, April 2. The day
our lives changed forever with one simple phone call.
Waiting. We had been waiting for five months for the genetic
test results. But why would these test be any different? They had always come
back "normal". We end up feeling a mixture of relief and
disappointment. We would forge ahead...to the next doctor, the next therapy,
the next IEP, the next EEG, travel to well- known hospitals- all to deliver the
same news- "Normal. Don't know.
Time will reveal." Three long years of waiting. Well time did reveal the
answer. All that waiting came to an end with one phone call in the middle of
car line.
One sentence shattered our world as we knew it.
"Sadie's results came back positive for a mutation in the MECP2 gene.
Sadie has Rett Syndrome." There was no delay in my emotions. The flood of
tears came immediately. The thought of regression and wheelchairs and confusion
loomed in my head. I could not breathe. I could not see the other cars in line
through my tears. I remember breaking out of car line and pulling to the front.
My children piled into the van, expecting a "normal" day yet they
were faced with their mother’s head resting against the steering wheel, sobs
wracking her body. The van was silent except for the sound of my grief.
I didn't know what to do or where to go. Numbly, I drove to
my friend’s house who lived in the neighborhood. I fall into her arms and we
weep. My oldest, tender hearted boy who is wrapped in a touch shell, demands
the Internet so he can google "Rett Syndrome' and learn all there is to
know. My mother in law soon arrives and holds me in her arms. We weep for my
baby girl. The Dad calls Joe and tells him he needs to come home. He delivers
the news. The night was a blur of heartaches, questions and an answer- yet it
was the answer we were not wanting. Of all things, please don't let it be Rett
Syndrome. There is no way it could be, I thought. Her regression was like a
thief, sneaking in and slowly stripping her voice away. It masked itself behind
seizures, developmental delays, and seizure drugs. We were unprepared.
Can you ever be prepared for D- Day…diagnosis day? Can you
ever be ready to hear the answer, the missing piece you had longed for? Begged
for? Pleaded to God to give you the answer to why your baby girl could not talk,
could not function like other little girls her age?
You are never ready. Even when you long for the answer.
This past year has been one of the hardest of my life. It
has been filled with so much pain, heartache, and broken dreams. So many asked
if it was good to finally have the answer. Yes it was. But when the relief of
an answer was met with no cure, nothing to stop it, it left us wanting.
Questions loomed- but Sadie can walk? She still has
purposeful use of her hands? Will it all be stripped away? Just like her voice?
Confusion reigned.
And so a year has passed. We have clawed our way through
most of it. It has been ugly. But through the ugly, there has been beauty. This
beautiful girl is so full of life. Her smile and laughter bring us so much joy.
We have learned to rejoice in the smallest things. We have learned to
appreciate the tiny victories- tiny to the world, but to us- HUGE! Sadie has
learned to pedal a tricycle this year. She has learned to dribble a ball.
Watching her bounce the ball, throw it up to the goal, and it bounce around and
sometimes land inside- PURE DELIGHT on her face. She throws back her head and
lets out a glorious laugh. These are the moments of joy. Watching her zoom
around on her motorized 4- wheeler, standing up while going full speed…pure
joy! Watching in wonder at Daddy's face covered in shaving cream, then gently
touching his cheek and kissing him- heart swelling love. The tender
relationship she shares with her sister, who always wants to carry her around (even
though they are almost the same size), is a gift. It wasn't the relationship I
was expecting, but it is beautiful nonetheless.
So I choose to think on these things. The ways in which
Sadie has changed all of our lives for the better. The beauty coming from
ashes. A life that is significant. A child made in the image of God, who is
fiercely loved. Her life will look different than those around her. She will
struggle. We will struggle. The sting of other children making fun of her cuts
me to the core, every time. It pours salt into my open wounds. And I grieve all
over again.
What has struck me the most this year is the grief. It is
always present. It can sneak in and swallow me. It comes when I am unprepared.
I wonder often if I will always be this way… the new me. I don't often like
her. I wonder if she will ever pull it together. If the disappointment will
ever fade. The realities of caring for a disabled child is beyond stressful.
The thought of "I can't keep doing this" and "how am I supposed
to keep doing this?" play on repeat in my mind. The changing of dirty
diapers with an unwilling participant, the behavior of a toddler in the body of
a 6 year old, the chasing around the couch, the repetitive cries of her
favorite word "no", the endless messes, the escaping out of the house
and fear of not finding her, the inability to understand what she is trying to
communicate. The frustration.
After the news on April 2, 2014, I posted this verse from a hymn.
"Because He lives, I can face tomorrow, because He lives all fear is gone.
Because I know, He holds the future and life is worth the living because He
lives." And I know that this is how I will press on. He will be enough for
me. He will sustain me and give me the grace I need to make it through another
day. Joy comes in the morning.
As I look back on this year, I can see how the Lord has made
me strong. He has enabled me to get up each day and care for my family. He has
made our marriage strong though the hits on it have been the worst so far in 12
years. He has given me a voice for the disabled. A heart to minister to those
like me. He has allowed us the opportunity to start a special needs ministry at
our Church. He has given me the courage and endurance to run a half marathon
(WHAT!) in honor of my daughter, while raising $9,000 for research (GO TEAM
SADIE!). He has surrounded me with loving friends and family.
He has been enough. And He will continue to be. I'm so
thankful for my God, who isn't impatiently waiting for me to pull my crap
together. He loves me and calls to me, in the midst of my brokenness, to come
to Him and lay my burdens down. This song has washed over me many times like a
balm to my soul.
Come out of sadness
From wherever you've been
Come broken hearted
Let rescue begin
Come find your mercy
Oh sinner come kneel
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can't heal
So lay down your burdens
Lay down your shame
All who are broken
Lift up your face
Oh wanderer come home
You're not too far
So lay down your hurt
Lay down your heart
Come as you are
There's hope for the hopeless
And all those who've strayed
Come sit at the table
Come taste the grace
There's rest for the weary
Rest that endures
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can't cure
Fall in his arms
Come as you are
There's joy for the morning
Oh sinner be still
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can't heal
David Crowder - Come
As You Are
I love the last line. One day the Lord will make all things
right. Sorrow will be no more. Come quickly Lord Jesus.