He Did It and So Can We

This isn't the first time that everything in my my life came to a screeching halt and the world as I knew it changed overnight.

Premature parenthood disrupted all my routines, challenged my assumptions, and threw me into the world of the Newborn Intensive Care Unit, completely unequipped.

It doesn't matter that I knew in theory that my high-risk pregnancy made this route a possibility--no amount of mental preparation can prepare a parent for the reality of caring for a tiny baby hooked up to all kinds of machines.

 

Until you see your heart cut from your womb, you can't imagine how you will respond.

As I adjusted to this new reality, everything else fell away--my job, pre-planned trips, outings with friends.

Time slowed, as our world shrunk to this one setting: fluorescent bulbs spotlighting our one-pound son who lay inside the isolette struggling to survive.

As days turned to weeks, and weeks grew to months, and months evolved into years, our dreams of a typical child evolved into finding a balance between therapy appointments, medical visits, conflicting diagnoses and the love that never diminished, only multiplied, as we learned that disabilities does not dim the vibrancy of a soul. 

We didn't plan for any of this-- and yet here we are.

I am forever changed from my experience of delivering my first born at 24 weeks, and I'd say its mostly for the good.

PTSD aside, I am more compassionate and empathetic than before my time in the NICU. I stand here more humbled, and more willing to skirt the social trappings of the road to success for an overgrown trail that winds through the woods, destination unclear.

My hope is as a society, we will emerge from this time of isolation better humans than before. I know its not only possible but precedented.

Not only did Elias survive, but he continues to climb over the debris in his path.

Yesterday, he asked if we could go find the waterfall on the backside of our property. A difficult trek through Devil's Club spears, over rotting logs, up the side of Foundry peak, the mountain we feel fortunate to call home.

Elias slid down more than once, ditched his canes and crawled, grabbed tree roots and branches as handholds, stepped on his own feet, fell over roots he calls "trippers", pulled himself up, again and again. and with a little help but mostly through his own perseverance, made it to the frozen but thawing falls.

He did it--and so can we.

We can make it through this pandemic, through all the obstacles and trippers in our way, to the unpredictable light on the other side.

Comments

[Kris]

Inspiring words; thank you Elias for teaching us all how to persist and to you Christy, for the wisdom of your words.

[Sarah Spanos]

TWENTY-FOUR WEEKS!!! Christy, I am humbled every time I open your blog...just beautiful, inspirational and the optimism is so embraced. I am letting out a heavy sigh for Elias, BADASS...hiking to the frozen falls, get off your pity pot people and get out there!!!!

[Christy]

Elias reminds me of what I have all the time and to not fret about my body that is more capable than I realize..oh and to appreciate the moment. Thank you both for your words of support!