“Longevity isn’t the discussion we have here. It isn’t about long-term planning, it is about quality. You have to begin with acceptance. There IS NO CURE.“
I had carried on a discussion like this before. I had seen a face like that doctor's one other time in my life. I had also seen the smiles like those of the sweet nurses, that smile that makes you want to scream because you feel like they know a secret or that says they feel sorry for you. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for us, but at the same time I wanted to fall into their arms and crumble into a million pieces. I’d been here.
I recognized all of this from when I was told by doctors about my mom’s terminal cancer. No one is supposed to live this moment about your child, yet here I was, on Valentine’s Day nonetheless, and I was in that room alone. Surreal is the only description for seeing your son get valentines from volunteers in a Neuro-ICU. I wanted to scream, “We don’t know you and we don’t want this!”
I will never forget how in that little five minute conversation everything in my world changed. I’m not saying that lightly, I mean everything. Did you know that every part of your body can sense fear? I still smell that hospital room, it smelled of the IV meds; the same meds that would define the rest of our days. The sounds in that hospital room would become the steady, beeping sounds of assurance; but also the sounds of fear that my family would learn to live by. The sights of wires and cords from my child’s head mixed with the colorful nature at Children’s Hospital would become an oddity that my son would learn to accept. I still can’t. I was terrified to touch my own child in that moment, but I was terrified to let him go. Then taste, the taste was that kind of taste that was chemical, it was too clean. Every sense was present and enhanced by a million on that day. Even the amount of tears and the volume of the scream that could come from my body was greater. I didn’t want to be here, but here I was. At that moment, I held the newest membership card to a club I didn’t ever want to join, the club of Parents of (what doctors would at that moment call) Dying Kids. Valentine’s Day.
I felt anything but loved and I felt the strong, helpless love of a Mother all at once.
I struggled for more than a year with what happened that day. I still struggle, sometimes it is just day-by-day. I have screamed and I have begged and I have pleaded with God to change my circumstances. I’ve considered every option, even taking my own life, to avoid watching my son suffer and to avoid the life we live at times. I lost sight of everything good. Evil won some battles in my life for a period of time. I wanted the social media, pretty side of “Mommyhood”, but God was calling me to something bigger than my small mind could fathom. I was called to “Mommyhood” in the trenches.
Hope would come though. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to those who are discouraged; he saves those who have lost all hope.”
I received this calling on Valentine’s Day 2015. Since then, I’ve studied what a Mom should be. I had a false idea that a mom prayed for her family, she made cookies, she washed ball uniforms, she planned trips, she volunteered at school, she cooked and cleaned. I knew I was horrible at a lot of that, especially cooking and cleaning, but that’s what a mom did and so I could do those things.
Now there is “Mommyhood” in the trenches.
That kind of momming means praying for your family when you are totally and completely out of words, and wholly dependent on the Intercessor to interpret your groanings. I’ve had to learn that. “Mommyhood” in the trenches meant washing bedsheets instead of uniforms, it means trips to the doctor or hospital instead of the zoo and it means begging a child to eat a bite to avoid a feeding tube.
So why share this on Valentine’s Day? Well, because that Valentine’s Day has grown me into a person who understands that love is so much more than what we understand on the surface.
“You made me suffer a lot, but you will bring me back from this deep pit and give me new life. “– Psalm 71:20
Since we entered the trenches, I have fallen more in love with my husband than I could have ever imagined because he has never left me in the pit alone.
I have learned how much my son loves me and how much I truly love someone who most would say could never give me anything back. My Zach is an example of the purest kind of love and joy. Most importantly, I have truly learned God’s love. I know I will never fully understand His love, but Psalm 86:15 says, "But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness." During those nights that I stayed awake and stared, screamed and cried; even as I contemplated ending my life, I had a Savior watching over me. I had a steadfast, faithful, and loving Savior who never wavered. I encourage you, if you are doing “Mommyhood”, or “Wifehood”, or “Friendhood”, or even “Workhood” in the trenches, know a Savior is there waiting on you to call out to him.
2 Peter 3:9 says, “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.”


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