little scars

Mia's scars are healing well. She weighed 8 lbs 4 oz at her appointment yesterday, her chest x-ray on Thursday showed no signs for concern, and she appears to be the picture of health to all those that meet her. All babies certainly are miracles, but this little one just takes the cake. And while her little body is the one that bears the physical scars, I believe she is the least affected of us all. Her scars will fade and she will not have any recollection of her rough start to life. As for the rest of us, we will forever bear our scars hidden deep in our hearts and emotions.

I can no longer listen to the sound of the medical helicopter without some twinge of emotion...sadness, anxiety, concern for those involved. Other helicopters can pass without my notice, but the life flight helicopter has its own unique sound, one I've become all too familiar with, one that I'll never forget. Stories of other sick babies hit me harder than before, and stories of healthy births make me sigh relief for the parents, just knowing what a miracle each birth truly is.

The saying, "We don't prefer a boy or girl, as long as it's healthy" has taken on a whole new meaning for me. Not for one minute would I trade Mia for a different, healthier baby. Of course I would have much preferred to have a healthy Mia, but I wouldn't want any baby other than the one I'm holding now. We have learned so much from this little girl already, I can only imagine the lessons she has yet to teach us. If I could go back a few months in time, knowing what I know now about Mia's defect, even knowing the pain, fear, and uncertainty I would experience, I would say, "We'll take her, healthy or not."

I know I am certainly not the only one to still feel the effects of Mia's stay in the hospital. For four nights in a row, Laci has awoken at 2:00 am crying for my mom. Not so long ago, I was the only person who could console her in the night...she usually just needed a drink of milk, a little rocking, and the occasional song or two. And while I'm forever grateful to my mom for stepping in to take care of Laci, it stings just a little when she cries, "Ranny!" in the night and I have to literally wrestle her back to bed.

Ryan is working extra hard to get some things done on the house before he has to return to his "real" job. I know he feels the pressure to provide for our little family more than ever and he wants to get our girls under a comfortable roof as much as I do. It is difficult to feel settled in life without my own little nest for my chicks. I know how lucky we are to be able to build our own home, and how lucky we are to have a nice trailer to live in, and how lucky we are to have family that will temporarily house us, but I'm ready for my own space. I'm needing a stable environment where I can hang our memories on the wall and make pancakes for my girls...and then hopefully, this restlessness I feel almost daily will subside. After a month of nothing ordinary, I'm anxious to return to the ordinary, boring life I'm used to living, where a trip to the grocery store and a new meal are the highlights of the week.

Like Mia's scars, I know these feelings, that are still so fresh in me, will subside and fade into the background. Laci will once again ask for me in the night, and Ryan won't have to work quite so hard. Time truly does heal all wounds, visible or not. And the faint scars I will bear are purposeful...to remind me of where we've been as a family and what we can overcome.