Recovery

 It turns out that Isaac's trouble with his physical health caused me a little trouble with my mental health, which is to be expected, right?  Understanding that, recovery has been taking place for both of us.  Recovery is slow.

Because our family moved while we were in the hospital, in a lot of ways it doesn't feel like we came home.  It sort of feels like they just moved us to a different hospital room.  Until yesterday I was still living out of my hospital bag because we didn't have a washer and dryer (our dryer went out two days before Isaac was Life Flighted) and I didn't know which box to find my stuff in anyway. 

My baby started walking while I was gone.  It feels like I'm the one who has been in a coma.  It feels like I was gone much longer than 14 days because so much changed in those few weeks.  Doing the normal everyday things has helped me heal.  Like bathing my baby for the first time in too long.  I couldn't get enough of his soft slippery skin and his chubby baby body.

 Spending Christmas as a family was a huge boost to my recovery...and Isaac's.  My Daisy was so strong while Isaac and I were away.  I know she was supported by angels, both seen and unseen, as a result of all of the prayers offered for our family.

 Isaac has jumped right back into normal life.  It's as though he hasn't even noticed we moved to a new house.  As long as he has his brothers and sister, he is good to go.  I wouldn't want it any other way. 

 Levi, my little scientist, got a tortoise for Christmas.  He couldn't have been happier.

 I came home to a sick Titus.  He has a horrific rash on both ends, and diarrhea to boot.  The day after Christmas we were off to the doctor again for Isaac's followup labs and to see what we could do for Titus.  When I wanted to be home unpacking, I was sitting in a doctor's office again.  When we pulled into the parking lot before his appointment, Isaac said, "I want to go home."  When we got inside it was as though he turned off his feelings again.  He didn't care, flinch, or cry when they poked him, listened to him, and inspected him. 

 As soon as we left the doctor's office, my little Ninja Turtle was back in action.  Everyday he has been getting a little stronger.  Every day when he gets tired so easily, has pale skin and dark circles under his eyes, flinches when he bumps one of his incision sites, or says he doesn't feel so good, I am reminded how far we still have to go.

Isaac is still smiling, though.  And because he is, so am I.  Sometimes I start to make a mental list of all the things that have gone wrong (dryer dying is just the start...) but I find my time is much better spent listing all the things that are going right.  Bad things happen to good people.  But great things happen to ordinary people.  As I move through the mountains of boxes trying to unpack and put my life back together, I am reminded of all the people who packed and moved the boxes.  Great things.  As I lie next to Isaac and watch him breathe, I think of the miracles of modern medicine.  Great things.  As I pray in gratitude to my Heavenly Father, I feel His familiar comfort and sustaining.  Great things. 

We are recovering.