Undone

Yesterday I celebrated my 50th day in the hospital. But even more, I celebrated having only 10 days left until the birth of my son, completion of my surgery, and being done with this crisis.

But my joy was cut short. An MRI scan revealed that Wyatt's placenta has now grown through my uterus and into my bladder. In order to remove the placenta, a portion of my bladder would have to be removed. My bladder would stretch out again, so this in and of itself is not horrible. But, trying to perform bladder surgery in the middle of an already scary, risky and bloody hysterectomy combined with c-section is a pretty bad situation. And so my OB's have decided that they will perform my c-section as planned on October 5, then sew me back up with the placenta still inside my uterus. They will then block off some of the arteries leading to the uterus. Then we will all hope that my body tolerates the placenta, lessens blood flow to my placenta/uterus, and allows the placenta to shrink and disengage from my bladder. Around 6 weeks after the c-section, they will open me up again, and remove my uterus with the placenta inside.

Logically, I know that after October 5 we will be in a much better position than we were in on August 4, when I checked into the hospital. While I will still be at risk of infection and heavy bleeding, I will have a healthy and safe baby boy and I won't be at risk of bleeding out. And I will get to go home.

But emotionally, this new burden is devastating. You can read my previous post to get an idea of how excited I've been to reach the end of this journey. Honestly, my anticipation has been less about my son or going home, and more about escaping from danger and being back able to take care of my family. I ache to just be done.

Now we aren't done. After asking people to care for my kids during 3 weeks of early pregnancy illness, 9 weeks of hospitalization and 3 weeks of post c-section recovery, we will have to again call on help during a second surgery and recovery. After 26 weeks of not being allowed to pick up and carry Zion, I'll go in for surgery again just when I finally recover from the c-section. After coming to terms with the possibility of going home with Wyatt still in a special care nursery, we may have to figure out what to do if Wyatt gets discharged and I'm still here in the hospital.

It is just too much. I am done. For the past couple of months I have prayed for strength to keep on walking through these struggles. Now I am in a heap on the floor, telling God that I am done and the only way for me to keep going is if He carries me. Because my strength is spent and gone.

And He has responded. I hear His voice through our friends' notes of encouragement. Throughout my day, He has reminded me of how He has carried us so far during this crisis, and long before that. I feel peace, unexplained and unearned.

And now we wait. We wait for the birthday of our son. We wait to find out how my surgery goes and how my body reacts. We wait for my homecoming and recovery. We wait for another surgery and more recovery. We wait to be a normal family again. But most of all, we wait on the Lord. For, "they that wait upon the LORD will renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. " Isaiah 40:31

And we wait to be done.