Wednesday, December 10, 2008

holding on

I do not have much information to share except that right now I am feeling very discouraged about this entire thing. There are forces at work beyond my control and now Dr. B has emailed me saying he cannot write a letter for Emerson since he has no detailed medical information, no echo images, no complete diagnosis. I understand and respect that position and really I think her known heart defects speak for themselves. But I am disappointed at a time I don't want anymore disappointment.

I know we will keep waiting until the end, just as she will, but it seems the whole world is against this and having a good laugh at my foolish hope.

This post is titled "holding on" and the fear in me sees one titled "letting go" coming down the line. I will refuse that as long as I can though because I just don't know how to do otherwise.

She is everywhere in our lives right now. Pictures in the dining room, a name on a stocking, an ornament on the tree, presents beneath it, a request in a letter to Santa from Cade, a pink room for two with one crib lying empty beneath her name on the wall, clothes folded neatly and tucked amidst chewy tubes and a dozen copies of "Gifts" in a suitcase gathering dust on the floor, a carseat sitting quietly in the garage, brightly colored Euros locked safely away, waiting, waiting, waiting, on our lips, in our daily conversation, in my heart every minute... how do you let go of that?

A couple months ago we made a double appointment with our opthamologist for the week of Christmas, one for Dawson and one for Emerson. We thought she'd be here by then. We called this morning to cancel hers, Andjela Schafer, but apparently the appointment was never made properly, she wasn't in the system. One more hint? Gotcha. But didn't. And right now, holding on to anything.