That was the original date of the post. The original date of this photo was in February. If I had written on either of those two days, this post would’ve looked a lot different.

Gertie had her first heart appointment in our new local children’s hospital. And while I appreciate having a place dedicated to these sweet children nearby, walking into one, specifically for a heart appointment, gave me a little ptsd. I was full of anger. Ryan himself, who does not get riled up easily, even said he can see a dark pit of anger in front of him and it takes a lot of effort to not just jump right in.

I was originally going to write about everything that happened at the hospital when Gertie was born. I spent many showers spewing it all out to a white tiled wall, excited to unleash. But it only left me more sad. So I’m not ready to write in detail about our takeaways or how we were treated as parents who chose a home birth (despite being complimented by nurses on how much I knew about the details of my delivery. All thanks to a midwife who gives her patients as much knowledge as possible). However, I will share that we gave up a room across the street in the Ronald McDonald house, where I could pump and rest comfortably. We instead slept in the lobby chairs that turned into little beds and I went to a closet every two hours throughout the night to pump, then took that milk downstairs to the milk bank. For three weeks we did that. We did it so we weren’t restricted by visitors hours and could see Gertie whenever we wanted. So we could attend every shift change meeting between the doctors and nurses, and ask them questions as a group to make sure we were all in agreement. So we could stay as long as we wanted asking the nurse as many questions as we wanted and be part of every decision made day and night. All this so we didn’t wake up across the street and walk in to something changed without our consent.

But that level of involvement also brings about knowledge. Not ten years of medical schooling, of course not. But when you have a level-headed, brilliant husband who retains information and who cross referenced various specialists so that he could understand how decisions to help one part of the body could play out from a holistic perspective (not just focusing on one organ – and in this scenario, they were focused on her heart), it’s hard to not question some decisions that were made.

So, I let that picture linger on my phone, then uploaded it to this blog and waited. Then I read about a family at our church who’s grown 20-something son was in a bike riding accident and they were left as caretakers of him. Is this how they saw their golden years once all the kids left the house? Exhausted and, yes I’ll say it, trapped? Yet all of their blog posts give thanks to God.

We don’t know why things happen or if Gertie would’ve still had many difficulties without her stay at the hospital. But I do know that I need to watch out for that dark pit in front of me. And ironically, the only way to avoid falling in is by looking up. Take my eyes off it and focus on thanking God for this life he’s created for me.