Trust the Process

Tonight was Michael's senior night for wrestling. 

Unfortunately, he's currently injured so he wasn't able to wrestle, but Coach refers to him as his right-hand man at the score table. Do you remember going to wrestling matches? I know you made it to a couple. Were you watching tonight? It was kinda rough for our boys. We were up against PG, one of the major powerhouses. 

Each of the seniors was asked to give advice to the younger guys. Michael's really stood out to me. 

"Trust the process, stick with it, and you'll see results."

Trust...

I'm trying to.

For some reason, this evening your last few minutes have been playing on repeat, over and over in my mind.

It still seems surreal. Will it always? I don't know.

But I keep looking at the monitor and realizing that your heart rate is dropping. I honestly don't know what any of the other numbers were. But in all the times that your sats would drop, or you would struggle to breathe, or your temperature be out of whack, your heart rate never dropped.  Even with sats in the 40's, it would stay high and steady. 

Not this time. As it hit 50 I realized you were going; you would not be coming back.

And then it just continued to slowly go down. It was like a countdown; almost every single number, a pause for a second or two at most, and then lower still. 

Oh baby...

And now I'm left to try to trust the process.

Trust that if I will lean into my pain, that somehow I'll come through okay. I'll find a way to go on without you. I get up each morning, talk to people, go to work and still volunteer with the hospital. Although, honestly, I'm finding myself pulling back a little on that one, at least right now. I'm trying. I really am. And I think most of the time I do okay.

But oh, the nights are still so hard, and I'm wondering if they always will be.

I watched those wrestlers out there tonight. Wrestling is HARD! Those six minutes are intense, all demanding, and the guys will tell you it's the hardest six minutes of your life. But they kept going. Not one of our guys gave up, even when they were down. 

And this is the hardest thing I have ever done, and I hope the hardest thing I ever have to do. Up until December 23rd, the worst time, most painful time of my life was the 16 days you were in the NICU. I had just given birth. You were not healthy. And I could only go see you a few hours a day, leaving you in the care of others. But that time in comparison? Yeah, it was a picnic, a walk in the park with rainbows and butterflies. Okay, maybe not that good. But I saw you and held you and loved on you every day.  I still love you, and I always will, but I no longer get to be with you. 

One Sunday, I think it was Father's Day 2010 when we got ready to leave the hospital, Michael (not quite 4 yet) threw a fit. He did NOT want to leave you there. And if we had to leave, you needed to come with us. Oh, Aaron, he was only expressing out loud what my heart was saying. 

And now I have to leave you in that cold cemetery where the wind and snow are blowing. 

But I will trust the process. I will trust that God will bring me through. He can help me. He understands. And He knows my pain. 

Love you, little man. Stay close, please. 

The last breath is as sacred as the first. ~Terri Guillemets