Saturday/Sunday, February 16-17

The past two days have been a blur. A good blur. Yesterday, my sisters and I had a breakfast/shopping date. I hadn't been to Panera for a really long time, and I rediscovered how much I love Panera. I think it's because it bears a close resemblence to the bakeries in Germany that I love (love love) so much. And, it was good sister time. Over our leisurely breakfast in our comfy booth, we talked about very pressing topics like "how to get the stink out of our husbands' shoes" and "Why Dizzle (Erica) is again the oddball" (answer: because she orders souffles instead of bagels for breakfast). And we laughed a lot and were our normal goofy selves. And, of course, we went shopping afterwards. I'm so thankful for them. Papa Clarkson thought we both needed to have a few hours away from the hospital and do something for ourselves. He was right.
We also got to enjoy some visits with some family and friends. We have such a wonderful community around us, that we can just be real with (whatever that looks like with my lopsided state of mind:). I got to talk to Eden and Isaaq yesterday which was so sweet. Eden told me all about her latest art project and Isaaq told me 'hi.' From the pictures my mom sends me, it looks like they're having a lot of fun.
Miss Atira and I are getting some wonderful cuddle time in, compliments of her stable condition. Those few days when I couldn't hold her, were simply awful. If you're ever talking to a new mom, and for some reason she isn't able to hold her baby, just stop for a second and cry with her, like full out wail and sob, because that- combined with all those crazy hormones- is probably the worst thing imaginable to her at that moment. Getting to hold my little peanut helps my heart in ways that I don't even understand. I just know I need to hold her. A lot.
This week she decided to bust out a bit of an attitude. Like very good at telling you what she needs type of attitude. She's reminding me a lot of her big sister Eden, loves a good cuddle, big appetite, quickly calms down when she hears Papa C's voice, hates baths and detests tummy time (unless she's sleeping on you- then she's totally fine with it). She's still on the nitric oxide, in hopes that will help her lungs open up better. Her respiration rate is still high, which means that because her lungs are working so hard they don't want us to do any breastfeeding (big fat tear). On Thursday she will have another echocardiogram which will tell us how if the pulmonary hypertension has been resolved. If not, then we'll have to start considering other diagnostic measures so we can figure out what's the next course of action. Her head is looking so great. The circumference of her head is about 6 cm smaller than when she was born. It truly amazes me.
I met a young girl with hydrocephalus when we were in East Africa. Her mom wanted me to look at her to see if there was anything I could do for her. I told her there wasn't anything I could do, knowing the wide wide variety of hydrocephalus cases, but I did pray for her. The young girl was about 8 years old and her head was terribly swollen and her eyes so sad. I'd thought about that young girl so many times, wishing there was something I could do. Now, I look at my own daughter, look at the shunt in her little head, touch her sweet face and try to reconcile in my heart why it is that God is so good to me, that I can access excellent medical care, and millions across the world do not. Sweet relief that He's not expecting me to figure it all out, because I can't. I'm weak. Finite. Little. Puny. Lacking mass. Opposite of beefy. Weak.
Weakness is a character that I try to run from. I try to control and organize my life so that he doesn't find me. But he does, and while I'd never like to admit it, it's necessary. I like to think I can do everything. I like to think that I can take care of all three of my kids perfectly right now. I'd like to think that I can carry whatever life hands me tomorrow with fantastic skill and finesse. I like to think that I don't need help and that I'm strong enough to sail through this storm. But I can't. I'm in a canoe, not a US naval fleet. I'm gonna sink if I try it. I'm having to rely on others for so much, and my prideful self is fighting it. My rugged individualistic American tendencies nag at me, saying "You should be strong enough. Your mom can do it. You can do it. You don't need help." to which I'm (slowly) learning to say...
Baloney.
I know, profound.
Except for the part about my mom. She's the strongest person I know... she could probably do it.
Over these past few weeks I've needed others to help me put on underware, drive me places, take care of my children, help me to hold my child, formulate simple sentences, carry bags for me... etc. etc. All things that I could do before with ease (generally). Now, He's reminding me that His grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Co. 12:9). He's been teaching me about His power being made perfect through the community around us, who've been bending over backwards, to help our family during this time. I am so grateful for each of you, for your notes, your acts of service, for your love. Thank you for helping me in my weakness.  

PS: For those of you who are wondering- I can put my own underware on now.