Where We Are Now

Holidays and family birthdays tend to bring out the sentimental in me. When a birthday lands near a holiday, I border on becoming a nostalgic mess. Don’t even think about the dreaded combo of birthday + holiday + life changing event. Oh wait, too late; not only did I think about it, it’s where I find myself at the moment.

The inspiration for this entry was my “baby’s birthday” (you know, the last born of the family, not my “bay-bay as in, well, you know) and yes, Christmas was looming. Oddly, it’s been that way since Andy was born and as a matter of fact, played heavily into the reason he was born on Dec 17, 32 years ago.

As I recall, I had been having mild contractions all weekend and when I called the doctor-on-call to tell him so, he said that if nothing happened before then, I should meet him in the office on Monday morning. Nothing more happened so I showed up bright and early Monday morning.

After my exam he told me that things looked good and I should go back home and if he didn’t see me before, he’d induce me the next Monday; I was nearly 41 weeks pregnant, by the way.

I loved this doctor! He had been in practice for 3 months when we first visited him in 1982, after finding out I was pregnant with Hannah and I really wanted him to deliver this baby too. But when he told me to come back “next Monday”, I pointed out to him that I had 2 little ones at home and coming back “next Monday” would put me in the hospital for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and that wasn’t going to happen.

He pondered that thought and (since I wouldn’t vacate the exam room until he agreed with me) decided to send me on over to the Labor & Delivery floor and let them “break my water”. Surely, since I was so far along and “things” looked so promising, I would go right into labor. I was a pro at the Lamaze method of childbirth and felt ready to go so I hauled my massive, lumbering frame down off that exam table and off to L&D at St Mary’s Hospital I went. I don’t know who but, someone brought my stuff to the hospital and someone(s) got Luke and Hannah taken care of and I got ready to “hee-hee-whoo” my way to a quick delivery. After all, Christmas was just around the corner.

Water broken and GO! Or NO. How about a long day’s worth of Pitocin? Okay, sounds fine, how hard can that be? Well, ding-dang-it, it’s hard. It didn’t take me long going from 0 to 100 miles an hour to figure out “Hey, I’ve done the Lamaze thing twice, what have I got to prove? Hook me up to some pain killing stuff! And stat!”

So they did and as Dr. Ken Taylor (no, not the Bible guy) ordered, Joel Andrew Wood arrived in time for Dr. Taylor to be home watching his beloved Cowboys play the Dolphins! Heck, I almost made it back to my room (yes, young ones, we used to go into a sterile place to have our babies! Some of us are old like that) to watch MY beloved Wheel! {Of Fortune for you less informed.}

Two days later I was home with three wee ones under the age of five and when Christmas Eve rolled around, the family came to us. When Christmas day dawned, Luke opened his He-Man Castle and Hannah played with her kitchen for a few minutes then they went off with their dad to Mamaw and Papaw Wood’s, leaving me alone with Andy. It’s a day I’ll never forget but that’s a story for another day. Or just for him and me.

The family will come to our house again this Christmas Eve for the first time since that Christmas Eve of 1984 (as far as I can recall). And this time it’s not because there’s a newborn that’s not allowed in crowds.

It’s because of that third event, listed so many words ago: a life-changing event. Gene simply can’t easily get into other people’s homes.

If you’ve drawn breath and been in our family/friends/friends-of-friends/former friends circle, you know about our life-changing event of Feb 9, 2016. I won’t belabor that point here; read more about it on my blog and/or on Facebook. But now seemed a better time than most to update you on Gene’s status and on where he and I are in our journey to the new normal.

We were privileged to see a new (wonderful!) neurologist recently; one who didn’t make us cry and suck every ounce of hope from our veins before handing us our bill and telling us he’d see us in 3 months.

He suspects (and will further investigate) that Gene had a spinal cord stroke…look it up, it’s a real thing…which would, if true, explain his symptoms. IF that is the case, the prognosis is, brace yourself, CONTINUED IMPROVEMENT. Of course, if that’s NOT the case and it is as has been diagnosed (Guillain-Barr Syndrome), he may be “as good as he’s going to get,” quoth Neurologist #1.

We left the doc’s office pretty upbeat and neither of us cried on our way home. #win

It’s interesting how folks interpret things differently though. While I am joyful at our new (potential) diagnosis, I seem to have hit a wall in how I deal with ANY diagnosis. Gene’s attitude is really healthy. He says, “If this is the worst I ever have it, I’ve got nothing to complain about.” While true, I’ve got to tell you that it kinda’ grates my nerves a little when he says that.

Maybe I’m just a little mad at the whole deal. I’m pretty sure God got the memo I sent Him that said, “Ahem, I’d like life to be predictable and a little easy, if it’s all the same to you.”

To which He responded with His own memo that said, “Ahem, I am in heaven and I’ll do what I please, missy.” Psalm 115:3 (very loose paraphrase)

That probably sounds cruel and bossy to those of you who don’t know Him like I do and I hate that for you. For you see, I know me and I know that every now and again I need to be “put in my place” as my forebears used to say. But I also know this, every step of the way, His grace in my life has been exactly enough.

For example, tonight Gene dropped something (it doesn’t matter what, he can’t bend down to get it) for the four hundredth time (maybe it was the fourth time but, still) and I heard him grunt in anguish and frustration. Hannah and I were hip deep in a show we’d waited eons to see but I hit pause, uttered my new mantra and went to see what he needed. My new mantra, didn’t I mention that? No? It’s this:

“This is my life. It’s not going to kill me.”

I tell Gene all the time that serving him is my chief joy and it really is. But sometimes, like tonight, I say my mantra. Out loud. Multiple times. Then I go do what needs to be done to help out and then get on with life.

It wasn’t until a few hours later in bed that I heard my new mantra with fresh ears and in all seriousness, couldn’t get out of bed fast enough to come write down this diatribe, all leading to this one point:

“God’s grace in my life is exactly enough.”

And that’s how I HAVE survived and that’s how I WILL survive. Step by step, hope-by-hope, frustration-by-frustration. I don’t need a Magic 8 Ball or fate or good thoughts to direct my paths and give me the strength, stamina and hope I need. I have God’s grace. He hears me long before I utter my mantra. He knows my (finally) sitting down and my rising up for the tenth time. He understands all my crazy thoughts even far off and is very well acquainted with my ways, my words (the good, the bad, the ugly) and my wants. Putting head to pillow at the end of the day is my reminder that it was God’s grace that got me through every eye-rolling, bad-word thinking (and sometimes saying), sour attitude, hurried appointment moment that preceded it!

I've been looking for that grace-filled "Aha!" moment that would pave a smooth road for my journey but, what I've found is that God's grace is meted out for each step I take. Whether it's a pebble, boulder or jagged rock I put my foot upon, His grace comes rushing to my rescue.  

So yes, this is my life and it’s not going to kill me; not because I have a mantra. But because I have a Father who loves me. Yes, sometimes He allows difficult things to come into my life but His grace is always enough to walk WITH me THROUGH the difficult things. He’s not on the outside looking in AT me, He’s on the inside working His life out THROUGH me. And believe me, when His life is being worked out through me, you’ll know it and be glad that you were there to witness it. On the other hand…