A Different Dream for Tara.

A few months back my friend Victoria recommended a book. A Different Dream for my Child. I was hooked by the first chapter. By the 2nd Chapter I was in tears. By the third chapter I had to run to the bathroom (I was reading it in the airplane), and stay there awhile and compose myself. Jolene Philo might as well be me. Writing this book about Tara, and the dreams I had, and the dreams I have lost, and the hope. Hope in Jesus. I finished the book the same day I started reading it. Came home to ask a friend if she wanted to borrow it, but still have not let her use it yet. I can't let it out of my sight. Its that good. I knew it would be. With all that Victoria has been thru with Moriah I knew I was going to be in for a treat. I just didn't know how much of a treat. In reading the book again today (yes, I think I have re-read it 8 times now) I found this part and had to share. Be assured, these are not my words, but all hers (Jolene Philo), she just sums it up so well:
In such an agitated state how could I tell my hurting son to be quiet and rest when I couldn't be still myself? How could my restless presence be his comfort?
Somehow, however I sensed God whispering those same words to me while I rocked my son. "Shhh...Jolene. Be quiet. Lie still. I'm here" In those moments, I wanted to crawl into His lap, feel His gentle arms around me, and be comforted while I grieved my son's loss of another day of good health and my loss of another day of normal life: trick-or -treating on his first Halloween, pushing his stroller around the block, playing peek-a-boo in the evening.
At the time I didn't know I was grieving. Grief, I thought, was reserved for parents who lost their children. As the parent of a child who would someday be healthy again, this was ground I thought I was not allowed to tread. But I was wrong.
..."At some point, you do have to grieve and you do have to face what's happened, weather its your child living, but not healthy the way you dreamed...or if you actually lost your child. Weather you admit it or not, you are grieving, and you have to be able to reach out and talk to people".
I am grieving. I do grieve. I grieve for what could have been. What should have been. My dreams I had for my perfect little family of 6. My dreams I had on Sept 5th. The day before Tara was born. How I would hop right back into being a mom, cooking and cleaning, packing up to move into our dream house in just 2 short weeks after she was scheduled to be born. I was ready, I was excited, I was anxious. Then on September 14th I felt as though my dreams had been shattered. Not just dropped, but shattered like a precious crystal vase dropping on the tile and not being able to be pieced together. I couldn't even find all the pieces. They had shattered into a million pieces. The morning the nurse told me to go in and say goodbye to my daughter, was the day I started to grieve. Not grieving as some may think, as she is here with me still, but grieving what could have been, what should have been. She sits on my couch right next to me. Amazing me daily. But I grieve what could have been. I long for the days when a common cold didn't send me into over drive (more on colds a different day...). 19 admissions. My sweet little girl who deserves "normal" has had 19 admissions in her 2 1/2 years of life. That's not normal. But its normal for us...now. Its our new normal. Every day I am learning how to have a different dream for my child. 1 day at a time. Thru Gods grace and his love, I am learning to enjoy my new normal, and smile for all He has done for me.
"Shhh...be quiet, lie still. Listen to Him whisper. I'm here". (more from Jolenes book)
Dear Father, quiet my soul. Whisper to my heart, touch me with your hand and be present with me as I grieve for the small things lost today. Hush me. Hug me. Be here with me.
Psalms 131:2
I've kept my feet on the ground, I've cultivated a quiet heart. Like a baby content in its mothers arms, my soul is a baby content.