a reactionary quartet.

i’m working on making my way back into this space. somehow, two weeks so all-encompassing and unexpected made the posts i wrote before that time seem months and miles away.

according to my [wonderful] neurologist, i have “complicated migraines.” this diagnosis evokes four simultaneous responses from me, a reactionary quartet seeking harmony despite the tension within.

1. curious.
“why’d ya have to go and make things so complicated?” [avril].  it tastes a bit like bitter irony to have a diagnosis that includes the word complicated. this word has the potential to trigger a lot of self-pity and questioning inside of me. why cancer at 22? why a high-risk pregnancy? why do we have to meet our medical deductible [and then some] every. single. year.? why does the straight and narrow have so many bleeping bumps in the road?

2. annoyed. 
ain’t nobody got time for this headache currently burrowing into my left temple, and for sure ain’t nobody got time for the two weeks i just spent completely out of commissioni’m a wife. i’m a mom. i’m a sister and a daughter and an employee.  i’m a potential foster parent and i’m a friend and i’m closing on a house in 12 days. i’m an independent soul who hates the ramifications my weaknesses have on everyone else. life is crazy enough without these never-ending curveballs. i’m human and prideful and i have things to do.

3. grateful.  
we were talking about multiple sclerosis. we were talking about lupus. we were talking about brain tumors and spinal leaks and what if there are no more babies and what if what i have is degenerative and we can’t become foster parents? for now, the Lord has seemingly seen fit to spare me from any of that and is walking me down a road that will only help me empathize with others more. thyroid problems a few years ago, migraines now. common, and commonly misunderstood. i love to learn and share and grow and discuss. i’m thankful for a manageable diagnosis, for family and friends who stood in the gap when i couldn’t stand at all and for the opportunity to relate more to others.

4. resolved.
this junk isn’t about to get the best of me. if God sees fit for trials to occur in my life [which, by the way, He promised they would], then that’s enough reason for me to endure with hope and patience. it’s also enough reason for me to praise His name in the suffering and praise His name in the relief and forge ahead when strength and ability are graciously bestowed on me again. i’m not going to spend my time wondering why the low point happened, or why the residual effects are happening now. i’m resolved to keep moving forward, resolved not to let any momentary affliction take me out of the game. His hope and strength and peace run deeper than my broken body or unrealized dreams or thwarted plans. life is short and He is good and i press on because He is the One who guides and protects, hemming me in behind and before, laying His hand upon me. i take heart, for He has overcome the world. He prays for me. He is an anchor amidst my tumult.

take heart
i hope to get back to regular posts in the next few weeks. i hope you’ll all stick around.

happy weekend.

the weakness & the lowly.

i’m just not sure what’s going on right now.

i’ve been in bed for 10 days. i can’t really lift Owen. i can’t really stand up long enough to make dinner or really even long enough to take a shower. i can’t really understand why this is happening.

i’m dizzy. i have high antibody levels. i’m nauseous and exhausted and my face is tingling. my entire left side is uncomfortable and when you tell a doctor something like that you get sent to the ER.  and then you have six vials of blood taken and a CT scan performed and they tell you nothing is wrong and you can’t decide if you’re happy or sad, because where are the answers?

amidst all this i had to take a steroid. i hate steroids, but i like the thought of feeling human again, so i tried it. marginal improvement, and it forced me to wean Owen. regardless of the fact that we were just nursing at bedtime and he doesn’t “need” it anymore, it was a heartbreaker for me. we’ve loved nursing. it’s been a gentle happiness amidst 13 months of circling and spiraling and, like i knew i would, i miss it very much [mamas – if you ever find yourself in this moment, this post was such a comfort & encouragement to me]. so here i am, missing my baby in every way and entrusting others to care of everyone and everything in my life and feeling completely leveled after trying to take a 10 minute walk around the backyard.

moments like these are so prosaic…so unoriginal, i’m not sure why that’s coming to mind right now or why it bothers me so much. like i didn’t pick up on the cycle repeating and i should have known this was coming. life was starting to level out, to be full and somewhat smooth and just spontaneous enough. then the rug is pulled out and the control is lost and nothing in life is ever actually normal, is it?

i know that He is good. i don’t have any poetic feelings or lovely thoughts about how i know that or how i am experiencing it right now, but i know that He is. and i’m really thankful for that, because all else is vague and disheartening today.

i don’t even know if this post makes sense. my head is spinning as i write it and i’m re-watching episodes of the newsroom because i feel too hazy to read a book so intelligent television seems like the next best bet. that and i already finished re-watching the entire series of parenthood.

i have an appointment with a neurologist on monday as well as two MRIs . maybe we’ll find some concrete answers, maybe we won’t. right now, i wouldn’t be surprised if there were no answers to be found, if maybe there’s more to be found in the weakness and the lowly than healing and solution.

whatever the case, He’ll still be good. we’ll still seek the joy of His presence. He’s the Healer of all things in His time, and He’s the strength i need to wait. goodness and mercy, all the days of my life. the house of the Lord forever. the storm rages on but the peace is perfect.

when all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.
[the solid rock]