Conflicted instincts

It is good to be home.  I have become far too acquainted with the innermost working of St. Luke’s Regional Medical Center…

Papa is home recovering and Rhys is too. We are so thankful our patients are doing better.   

Rhys’s surgery went fast.  Recovery wasn’t very fun.  No mom should have to see her baby cry like that.  All I could think about is how horrible I was for having put my child through an operation to put a HOLE in him...Who does that?  I miss his tummy…I want to blow on it and kiss it, but not for awhile.

I know the g-tube is a good thing for him.  But as I sat alone in his hospital room, reading an issue of Real Simple magazine…I flipped a few pages in and stopped at a stunning image on page 6. The photo was  appropriately real simple--a cherubic toddler curled against the bare skin of his mama and her arm wrapped protectively around him--but the emotion conveyed is deep. An Agatha Christie quote is typed beneath it: "A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path."

I love the last part--"crushes remorselessly." So badass, so fierce and yet an emotion present the moment we flip that pregnancy test over to find two pink lines. I love that this love and passion is not earned. We don't have to do anything to get it. It's just there the minute we know there is another life to love...instincts.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this picture because my instincts have been so conflicted this week.  On one hand the surgery is to help Rhys…get him the adequate nutrition he needs.  On the other hand shouldn’t a mother’s instinct be able to help navigate through the feeding battle to find another way to get my child what he needs?  

I rely on instincts a lot--maybe more than I should. But I've found the most valuable truths I've used in guiding my parenting choices are not snippets I've highlighted in books or pieces of advice passed along from more seasoned mamas. It's the nuggets of truth that are within--things I didn't even know I knew. I know how to love my kids. I know what they need, and for every chapter I've read about the five S's of calming a baby…they've got nothing on the natural rhythm of my body that instinctively rocks and sways and soothes my chillins into a sleepy trance.

There is a certain confidence you acquire when you discover your instincts are worth trusting…this comes in handy with Rhys's specific needs.

I will always be challenged to ensure I'm doing my part--reading the research, scheduling the appointments, utilizing the resources available to us.

I believe in Early Intervention. I'd lobby on the White House steps for more funding and education and programs that will give my child an advantage. I love to watch the progress of Rhys's physical therapy and I look forward to hearing McCall and Bodie’s school stories of vowel sounds and sentence structure. But I find the most comfort and hope in the fact that at the end of the day, I am the mama. Not therapists or teachers or child-rearing gurus. And joined by our village of loved ones, our children will thrive.

Special needs is so less daunting with this truth.  So I guess I’m at peace with the tube.  I kinda have to be, right?  I still miss the little tummy I know and love, but this one now is fuller than it ever has been.

So I will continue the cycle of high expectations, hard work, lots of love, and gratitude for every milestone each of our children make…and there are lots of them to come.  

With that short sermon out of the way, I'll move on.

While there has been an obvious decrescendo in events the past couple days, my body is welcoming the lull in activity…sitting and relaxing with my baby boy while brother and sister are “in the mountains” with Papa and Sue Sue.   

I told Rob I was going to get so much done today…but I lied.