12 Months

As I sit here tonight and reflect on the past twelve months, I think about how our reality has changed. I think about all the amazing women who have helped me accept this reality. I think about all the things that I have learned about God, and His love for me.

In the morning it will mark the 1 year anniversary from when Morgan had her surgery. We traveled to Cincinnati, Ohio for the longest, loneliest two weeks of my life. For twelve long days, Morgan and I sat in a hospital room where we knew no one. But we knew that we were in the best possible place for her at that time. We left Scott and Cerise behind. That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but it was also the best thing for Morgan, and now she has the best possible chance of living a normal life.

I know that to many of you reading this post, this particular surgery is nothing compared to what you have had to deal with with your own sweet children, and that makes you heroes in my eyes. I don't think that I could go through what many of you have, and do everyday. That is why God gave me the challenges He did, because they were ones He knew that I could handle. Morgan had a Posterior-Sagital-Ano-Rectal-Vaginal-Plasty. This was because she was born with a very rare ano-rectal malformation. She did not have Imperforate Anus, but she did have a fistula. She does deal with constipation worse than any I had ever imagined possible. That is part of the reality that has changed for us.

Going into this surgery, we were convinced that once she was fixed, that was it. We may deal with a little constipation, but nothing that a little jar of prunes wouldn't fix, and nothing that would really effect us until she needed to potty train. WRONG. Instead, my baby girl has to take a dose of laxatives equivalent to almost 3 squares of exlax. She takes almost twice a normal adult dose every day. What happens if she doesn't take it? She cries, and strains, and screams in pain because she can't poop. And when she does, she cries and screams because it hurts so bad. Then, if the poop sits on her bum for more than about 5 minutes, it blisters. I'm not talking a little blister, I am talking you stayed outside in 100 degree weather with no shirt and now your back has huge blisters and it hurts for days, blisters. And then she has to sit on those blisters, and the acidic urine gets on them, and she cries, in obvious agony. I cry with her. I wish that I could help her. I wish that I could take her pain upon myself, because she certainly doesn't deserve it. This is our new reality. And while I know it makes her stronger, it still makes me ache for her. Her pain tolerance is so high. She rarely cries in pain, unless her bottom is involved. I wish for her that she didn't have to endure these things, but she does.

And through all of this, I still know that God knows her. He knows her pain. He knows my pain. He loves her. He gave her this trial because she is strong enough for it. She can endure things that would have me rolled in the fetal position crying, because she is strong. And because she needs to be strong, I have to be strong. This is making me stronger. It is making me a more compassionate person.

I know this post has been rather rambling, and I am sorry for that, and it is far more depressing than anything I usually write, I usually reserve the serious side of myself for my closest family, but I want others to know what an amazing child my baby girl is. I also wanted to put a shout out to all the other IA moms, who are struggling with 10 times the issues, that I deal with. You all have been an amazing support to me, and I am grateful for your wisdom and kindness. So, here are some pictures of Morgan during our stay in Cincy 1 year ago.