My heal-and-recover days are going pretty much as I expected. I’m at my parent’s house, and Brad, Maren, Greta and SuperGramma are at my house.
I wake up in the morning (on my own terms — no alarms, no small children) and I read while I wait for my pain medication to take effect. Once it’s kicked in, I get up and get ready for the day. My lifting restrictions are strict: no lifting anything more than 5 pounds for the next 6 weeks. Well, I guess I’m down to 4 weeks, 6 days. My generous parents are doing all of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and lifting. I’m left to quietly return emails, entertain visitors, plan medical logistics, work on photo books, talk to friends on the phone, and write. I don’t have to set a timer to take my medicine, my movement dictates when the time is up and I need help to keep going.
People keep asking me if I’m bored, and the answer to that is most definitely no. I miss my regular life, the hustle and bustle and chaos and fun of my little family, but I’m not bored. I enjoy my quiet projects and the freedom of doing what I want to do when I want to do it. It is sort of like a vacation in that regard. I confess I don’t let myself dwell on what Maren and Greta are up to–the tears of separation come far too quickly if I do that.
Brad is super-busy–he’s being SuperDad for Maren and Greta, especially since I am absent. He’s communicating with his mom to keep the home running. He’s meeting with friends and gathering advice. He’s working his demanding full time job (though his company is being exceptionally gracious to our situation). He’s taking me on random pseudo-dates. He’s crunching numbers and logistics to figure how how we can pull off this next season of Not What We’d Planned.
SuperGramma is doing it all at my house. Maren is being super brave. She misses me terribly, but allows herself to be distracted whenever possible. Greta is confused; she knows I was in the “hostiggle”, but she asks for me multiple times a day. The greatest bittersweetness of this story is that Maren has become Greta’s biggest comfort source. Greta climbs into Maren’s bed at night. Maren’s presence calms Greta. Maren feel proud and competent to play an important role for her baby sister. I’m not even present to see their sisterly bond play out, and yet as it is described to me I am both proud and happy for them both.
I’m so glad they have each other.
I think that my beautiful girls are making the best–choosing joy–loving–smiling–being kind–being brave–to the best of their six-year-old and two-year-old ability.
And so I keep doing the best I can. I choose joy, love, smile, am kind, am brave because of my love for my girls.
So many people are helping us, praying for us–directly and indirectly–and I think we can do this.
This is not an easy time for my little family. But, God bless us, we are doing it well.