Thursday, October 13, 2011
My little Lu started dance about a month ago. We are taking with our dear little friend Olivia and it's a weekly 45 minute slice of heaven. I softly cried through her first class. It wasn't too long ago that I wondered if my sick baby would be able to dance one day. (insert picture of SICK LuLu in liver and kidney failure, or vented and tubed and IV'd to the hilltops) I count my lucky stars that her transplant did come in time. Sweet London gets a chance to do anything and everything in life.
I recently came across this blog that had so many similarities to ours it was uncanny but her little liver didn't come in time. I was hysterical in the wee hours of the night when I finished reading Ruby's story from beginning to end. I thought I was going to have a panic attack, my throat was closing up I could hardly breathe. The grief I felt for this young mom hit me to my core. I spent the rest of the night curled up with London in her crib. Holding her tight and recounting my blessings. I wondered why that wasn't us and what if it was? it could have been....
I was ashamed in those hours that I don't remember all we learned through our trials with London on an hourly or at least daily basis. I had begged James to do bedtime with the kids on this particular night because I had just had enough of them for one day. My heart ached that I didn't tuck them in, read to them, sing to them, kiss them--because I could. My sweet children are alive and well and I gave up a bedtime with them- something that Ruby's mom would die for. I cried for our Sweet donor Ashley's mom and imagined how empty her arms must feel.
So lessons relearned, seeing LuLu in the special glory that is hers rather than such a terrible two. I thank God she has such a strong spirit, it served her well through disease and sickness and I know it will continue to be such an asset for wise, beautiful, tough as nails LuLu. Love you girl.