If this is what it takes to praise You, Jesus bring the rain..

I sing those words. I cry through the song. I cry out that I will "praise you through the storm"… but will I? Do I? Oh, Lord knows there is a storm rocking my boat this very moment. Truth be told, I sat with Steve this afternoon and we both finally admitted our 'secret' frustrations that it seems as though the storms haven't stopped coming - we haven't seen peaceful waters in who knows how long (in our hurting hearts opinions).

Crazy hair Bedelia

On Tuesday, Steve and I took Delia to Fargo so her and I could both see the doctor - me to see if we could get a decent idea as to what was wrong with my knee, and Delia because her pediatrician wanted to have an ultrasound of her head because it continues to measure SO far off the chart. We went into this thinking my appointment was going to be the kicker, considering that the doc from the ER had told me his best guess was that I had sprained my knee and tore my ACL on Friday. SO, when the orthopedic doc told me he thought that I had popped my knee cap (he had a fancy term for it) after a very thorough exam which had me drumming the exam table and doing the labor breathing I had never used!!!,  things weren't all that bad. A little confusing - it didn't seem like that should be so painful, but whatever. I got a new brace, Delia went for her ultrasound and we headed for home. I didn't praise immediately, even then. I should have - I may not need surgery after all - but I still don't have a definite answer to this issue and that stinks. The praise came, but should have come sooner….
When her pediatrician called me personally the next day to tell me that she and the radiologist had reviewed the ultrasound and had determined that Delia in fact had mild hydrocephalus and that she would need a fairly urgent MRI and appointment with a neurosurgeon?!?! panic set in. Did I praise? Absolutely not. I wept. And then I swept it under the rug as my son walked in from his day at VBS. And I put a smile on my face and wiped my tears and couldn't crack though my husband could read my eyes, so I avoided eye contact until I made up an excuse to send Josiah up to brush his teeth in the middle of the day. He's a smart kid, so this was difficult. And I wept some more. Did I praise then? Nope. Sorry, not then either if I'm being honest. And then he came charging down the stairs and out came the happy facade again. And then I sent out text messages. My dear friends know me well - I cannot call in states of emergency because I am a weepy mess when things get raw and I refuse to be a blubbery blub on the phone. So they have to love me even though I sent out this via text. (thank you)
Not long after they called to say they fit her in for an MRI on June 30. My mind starts racing - is it so soon because of the urgency? Or they happened to have an opening? Ugh. I hate how the mind races. And they have us scheduled with the neurosurgeon that same afternoon. The MRI will be 2 hours long - she will be under full anesthesia for the procedure - which I understand, its far too long for her to hold still, but SO scary for me to have my babe go through that, even though we've been down that road with Eden before. Barring no complications she will be released later that same day, and then the neurosurgeon will look at the images and will be able to give us an idea of the plan of attack. BLEH. Doesn't that sound like barf? I didn't feel like praising after than phone call either.
I woke up this morning and it hit me like a ton of bricks, a thought that hadn't dawned on me until now and I have no idea why: my oldest sister Laura was stillborn due to hydrocephalus. Of course that had been the thought on my whole family's mind yesterday upon my breaking the news, but for some reason I hadn't put two and two together. A whole new wave washed over me today.
I know that we were told this is "mild". I know that Laura likely did not have a mild case. However, as a mother, there is nothing mild about having something done to your child's brain. When the pediatrician tells you that the way to fix this is most likely putting a shunt in to drain the fluid - that is a procedure, an operation on her brain. That isn't a tea party. That isn't anything mild. Its petrifying.
Sometimes its ridiculously hard to want to praise when the storm is raging. Especially when the storms keep coming, and doubly especially (doubly especially?!? ha!) when the storms deal with your babes. How can one be expected to praise God when there is a storm raging with my child and all I want to do is hop over on my crutches and hold her instead? And yet? We are supposed to? And yet…. we need to.
"Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain"  (MercyMe - Bring the Rain)