remember the valleys

I have a picture folder on my phone titled ‘UVA’. Part of me wants to delete it, but I won’t. When we were getting ready to board West for Med-flight, the flight nurse asked to take a picture of us. I thought it was the most bizarre request for that kind of moment. But when I handed him my phone, he said, “you are going to want to remember this”. He’s right. Part of me wants to forget all of that ever happened. But the bigger part of me remembers it often. And I keep that folder on my phone as a reminder of where life can take us, and where God can lead us.

It’s been 6 months now since all of that happened. I think every HUS parent would agree – I’m two people now – the one before HUS and the one after. Before HUS, I didn’t realize how fortunate I was to have healthy children. Looking back, I’m ashamed, actually, at how much I took for granted. I thought he had a stomach bug. How in the world we went from those thoughts, to pleading for his life, to coming out on the other side still blows my mind.

We’ve had lots of doctors appointments over the last several months, and I’ve learned something about myself during this time – I don’t like to wait for answers. Ha! Without going into too much medical detail that I know nothing about, as far as West’s prognosis – time will tell. Every time I push our doctors for more definitive answers, they tell me the same thing – “right now, he is happy and doing well and that’s a good thing”. They are right. I know that. That’s hard for me to let go of though. As his mom, I want to fix it – to make it better – to put it all behind us. I can’t do that. But what I can do is something I’ve always struggled with as a parent – turn it over to Him and trust.

I pulled out my phone last night before bed and got lost in the rabbit hole of pictures from that time. I’m so glad we took them, and I’m so thankful we kept them. It is a reminder, every time I see a picture of his swollen face or our tired bodies, that life can change in a SPLIT second. I heard this many years ago, and I find myself repeating it occasionally – we are all one phone call, one test result, one lost job, one big mistake, one accident, or one-slip up away from the valley.

The last 6 months have been a rollercoaster for me emotionally. The anxiety has been real, the fear has been present, and the joy has been overshadowed by the uncertainty of what time will tell. But even with all of that junk, I can’t adequately express how much this has impacted our outlook on so many things. God, life, time, family, priorities, relationships, people, church, friends. I feel like I see many of those things in a different lens now. Just 7 months ago, we were content, happy, worried about stupid things, oblivious to the brevity of life and the blessing of healthy children, and took so many relationships for granted. Then 6 months ago, we were on our knees, praying for mercy, relying on friends and family to take care of us – to literally keep us afloat. One of my dear friends took my daughter shoe shopping, while others got their school supplies. Church family stocked our fridge back home. Family and friends stepped up to make sure my big kids were happy, loved, and safe. People sent us toiletries, food, money, and reminders of home. We were prayed for and prayed with. Our yard was mowed. Our pets were fed. We were worthless and helpless, and yet so loved and taken care of.

Getting stripped of your pride hurts. But it is a constant reminder that we are never too big, too strong, too high, or too exempt from it happening to us. Lord, may I never get so high on that mountain that I can’t still see the valley below.

And may I always remember who helps us on those mountains and holds us in those valleys.

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