Not A Moment Too Soon...Though Ironically Late...

I sat and scrolled through the pictures on my phone tonight...grateful for one more day that I have had here.  I didn't do everything perfect today; there were tears and heartaches that I should allow place for healing, I could have had a little more cuddle time with the kids, and surely I could have eaten a bit healthier.  Yet, I'm okay with not doing it perfect, because I honestly survived--and sometimes surviving is the bravest and most noble thing we can do.  As I scrolled though the pictures I realized how much I have fallen behind with keepsaking the memories--I mean, we have had a good few months!!!  From the "National Red Nose Day" last day of school surprise that I welcomed the children with, to the completed baptism quilt (2 years late), and then on to Birthdays, swim team, cousins, and yes....even sickness, it has been a  full summer already.  My goal upon welcoming this summer was to make it one for the records.

I believe that only a month in, this summer has claimed it's name.

I just recently wrote my thoughts and frustrations out about my health and inability to get the proper care I need.  Not a moment too soon did I write it out, though ironically late it sits.

I'm not fully ready to talk openly about what happened to me this past Sunday, except for small details of my feelings related to the experience.  I will open up in a few short days here about the experience itself and explain all that it entailed, but for now, my intent is to focus on the importance of following our instinct, claiming our voice, and defending our lives.

This past weekend was much like any other weekend...and very much like any other day in my life since I graduated from nursing school in 2009.  I was a Mom for the most part...and when the day was over on Saturday...Father's Day gifts in place, chores done, and Mommy role complete...I went of to become the nurse.  I went into work Saturday night, very sleep deprived from the prior week but happy to be there.  My patient was indeed very happy to have me back, as I have been sick for an entire month now with a severe respiratory infection (that was noted in the last post).  After saying hi and doing some suctioning in her airway, I rubbed her head and she batted her eyes into a heavy sleep.  As I do when I am mothering my children, I called her by name and said I love you, goodnight.  She was so peaceful, and I was indeed in for a night of paperwork.

The night ended as the sun came up on the longest day of the year, the summer solstice.  I watched it rise and declared that it was officially my favorite day of the year from here on out.  My twin sister, through some spiritual warning and prompting had been up all night as well...talking to me through much of my shift in text.  At 4:30am, when she continued to text, I realized that the poor thing didn't sleep--it was 6:30am in Pennsylvania.  My heart actually ached for her because I know fully well how hard it is to make it to 6:30am and then have to get up and move...that's about when your body wants to crash.  I was grateful to have her to talk to, however, because with the complications of my illness and the treatments I was receiving, I needed her advice on some symptoms I had been having.  I honestly believe that a single decision  made just a few hours later could have been an important enough one to save me from additional damage that would be occurring in my body exactly 4.5 hours later.  Never dismiss a thought...each one comes for a reason.  I'll go into these details in a few days.

What I desire to express now is the critical nature of having a voice....to speak, to love, to share, to grieve, to assist, and to advocate.  The most important thing anyone can do with their voice is advocate for themselves and their children.  When your words fall upon deaf ears, it is painful, but when they are received by a listening soul, there is peace and hope.  This act of listening requires far more than good ears...it requires the gift of looking outwardly and assessing the person who is speaking, crying out, or quietly suffering; it requires love. Not everything is really ever as it seems; such is the tragedy of forgotten heartaches that hide behind smiling faces  and souls that are hemorrhaging yet playing their part.