I told myself that it wouldn’t happen. Not me. Not this year. I would absolutely positively not let stress get the best of me throughout Christmas 2010. And to this I say… nice try, self.
My poor husband. Seriously, Matt is a saint when it comes to my periodic vent sessions. Last week, he wrote down everything that was stressing me out and began to cross things out, one by one, as to eliminate anything that was not 100% necessary.
But still- there are some things that are priorities. Non-negotiables. As I sit here and take an afternoon breather with a cup of strong coffee, a crockpot of soup and a breadmaker whirls away as they prepare dinner for my boss and her family who are mourning the loss of her father. Angel Tree gifts wait to be wrapped before tomorrow. Fudge to be distributed to coworkers. Lists after lists to be jotted down in preparation of spending Christmas in Midlothian.
Oh, and let us not forget the tubes to be inserted. Carson gets tubes on Friday morning, and I’m totally dreading it. Every single week, I refer what seems to be droves of patients to ENT to be evaluated for tubes, reassuring them that it is “such a simple, wonderful procedure.” Yet, when it comes to my child, I fight it. I have for two years now. And at Carson’s preop visit yesterday, I continued to fight it. “I just wanted to be sure that you knew that Carson appears to be completely asymptomatic with his ear infections. I mean, do you really think tubes are necessary?” I asked his physician. An odd question by a healthcare provider who knows full-well the benefits of tubes, especially by the one who actually handwrote her own child’s referral. Ugh, I’m such an overprotective mom. (By the way, the doc finally got me to sign the consent after discussing the hearing loss they found at Carson’s last visit. Which I still don’t buy into. I am living proof that providers are indeed the worst patients… or parents of patients… ever.)
And finally, there’s Wyatt. Yes, there has been wonderful news of approvals over the past week. However, I cannot shake the thought that our child, if he is born, is spending Christmas in an orphanage. Alone. No one to spoil him with presents, adorn him in soft new pajamas, or to say “I love you.” It is so, so hard for me to stomach this. I can only take refuge in the glorious fact that, though we have never seen his sweet face, he is already prized and deeply adored by God. I pray that we will have him home with us this time next year.
It has been a constant battle for me to keep Christ first this past month. And I am guessing it will remain a battle over the coming week. However, I rejoice that His mercies are new every morning, and I am so grateful that His strength carries me through even the hardest days.