On this night... the Eve of our child's last breath on this earth, I don't really know what to do with myself. Sleeping is hard enough while I'm pregnant and with this kind of anxiety, near impossible.
I have been reading some of the posts written in the last few days of Zoe's life and am struck with so much emotion.
"We have been struggling with the decision of when to take our baby off of life support. How do you make that decision? How about never? Although comfortable and not feeling pain, it is selfish to keep her hanging on any longer. Her poor body has done all that it can. We want to give her peace and rest. I have been fighting with the question of when... when will I be ready? But that is not my decision. It is Zoe's.
Andrew's mom composes a beautiful piano piece for each grandchild and last night we crawled into bed and listened to Zoe's song. It starts out so sweet and fragile, just like Zoe. It then works up to a deep and strong middle... which reminded me of the struggle and pain that Zoe has suffered. The song then finishes with a beautiful and almost heavenly ending. We both shed many tears from beginning to end, followed by peace in knowing that she is ready. She is ready now."
I remember this feeling so vividly. I can see myself sitting in our PICU room typing late at night... sorting through the chaos of feelings leading up to the most important decision we will ever make as parents. Quoted above was the most powerful experience I have ever been blessed with. The assurance of peace was heartbreaking and freeing at the same time. I felt so defeated with the great loss before us. But I knew Zoe was ready. It was her time.
I was tearing up tonight with Andrew because he has to work tomorrow and I dread being alone on such a difficult day. I dread facing Londyn's meltdowns over missing her sister without my husband to soothe both of us. It's days like this that make the expression "I can do hard things" an understatement. But is there any other option? Of course. I could completely lose it and give up. But will that help me to grow closer to my Father in Heaven? Absolutely not. It is these challenges that we are faced with in order to stretch ourselves and reach our full potential as God's children. It isn't always pretty but its life. There is always a choice.
Lately when Londyn is pouting over a typical 5 year old end-of-the-world issue, I ask the question, "Are you going to choose to be happy or sad?" The keyword to this question is "choose." There is always a choice.
Easier said than done.
Some days... I choose to stay in bed for a much needed "Mental Health Day" and others I make the choice to fight through the grief and move forward with Zoe in my head and heart.
Tonight Andrew said, "maybe it will be easier by her 10 year." At first I thought, it has to be! But the reality is that it will probably never be easier... more predictable but not easier. And that's just going to have to be okay.