Hello, friends. I wrote this post the week that we came home from the hospital with Big Brother after his surgery. I didn’t realize that his recovery was going to require more than a month’s sabbatical from life and I never got to finish it. Some of it might be outdated now, but I wanted to post it because the overall sentiment is the same. I’ve missed you all! Hopefully I’m back to writing more regularly now that things have started to settle down.
I’ve been here before. My family is that family. I need all the favors. It’s actually starting to get ridiculous. We’ve been down for the count, well, more times than I can count. And here we are again.
The thing is—I’ve got an amazing village. I am surrounded by a huge number of the most wonderful people. I don’t know how I got here. And, frankly, I’m not sure why they’re still my friends. (I’m a taker!)
I owe a lot of favors. To a lot of people. But my people never collect. It’s not that I don’t want to do things for others. I just feel like my village never asks—or won’t take me up on my offers. Because they’re that amazing, that’s why.
I was seriously surprised by the number of people who called or texted to check on Big Brother after his surgery. Not just the number, but who some of the people were. I looked around and asked myself, “Am I that thoughtful?” My life is filled to the brim with caring people. People who remembered that we were going through something difficult and took the time to check in on us. It was mind blowing.
I want to say that I’ve never felt so loved, but that would be a lie. This isn’t the first time my family has been brought to their knees. Once, it was me. It was catastrophic, and just like this time, my village came out of the woodwork. We were carried through our struggle by people I asked (who didn’t hesitate) and people I didn’t ask (who didn’t hesitate or take no for an answer.)
My life is filled to the brim with caring people.
I recognize that helping my family isn’t a walk in the park. While we were in the hospital with Big Brother, my aunt and uncle came to stay with Yoshi. He called me in tears one night because everything was different. Ya’ll, he was upset because my aunt put something in the wrong pocket of his backpack, she didn’t cut his sausage for breakfast, and she cooked his hamburger “the wrong way” for dinner.
For the love of all things holy… He wasn’t quiet about his discontent. I’m grateful that my aunt was able to laugh it off, but I was so embarrassed. I know Yoshi is particular. I know. We’ve been home for a few days now and he’s still talking about it. You would think she had been sticking hot pins under his fingernails.
Now that I’m home bound with the big one, I have a friend driving Yoshi to and from school every day. Of course I do. Of course I had to ask someone else for something else. But she is wonderful and she changed her schedule to accommodate us. I just pray that he doesn’t sit in her van and commentate on her driving or anything. (She’s too polite to tell me if he does!)
Not everyone is as lucky as we are, and I recognize that. I am grateful for what we have—on my knees, thanking God, grateful. My children are truly being raised by a village, just like the saying goes. I love my people. My people are good people.
Big Brother’s surgery was a huge success. We accomplished what we set out to do: reshaped his rib cage to make room for his heart and lungs. He’ll carry the bars around in his chest for several years, and the scars for the rest of his life.
I’m thankful that my village includes great doctors. Our surgeon is one of (if not the) leading authorities on Big Brother’s condition—and fixing said condition—in the world. I have never experienced the level of care he received in the hospital (take it from someone who has seen her share of the inside of hospitals.)
Right now, my heart is full. I feel blessed and grateful and loved.
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