More Reflections and A Poem

Ten weeks post transplant......

If I am being redundant then I apologize. Anna continues to get better. There are still a few issues like regulating her blood pressure to a lower, more consistent level; getting her blood sugars in better control; the very slow healing at the top of her incision; continued sternal precautions; a resolving blood clot and the need for coumadin but, she breathes. The lungs are perfect. Time will give her what she needs to open and expand her new lungs but they work well and she loves them. Because she is doing so well, at the next clinic visit in two weeks we will talk about her being able to start driving. She is on track to the magic three months when she will not need the constant companion. I am deciding on a move out date from this "crash pad". We are talking about that a lot.

I think the recognition that she is truly a survivor is allowing the past year to come into clearer focus for me. You know how when you are so engrossed in a task you can only see what needs to be done and not the bigger context? Once again, to risk being redundant and boring you, I am recognizing the obvious, we escaped the bullet. Anna survived. Anna is surviving. Anna is beginning to thrive. I gave it my all. I have written about my weariness, my tiredness, my loneliness for home, my husband, and my creative life. Each day I am feeling this. I see this as healthy. This is the way it should be. Heaven forbid if I wanted to just continue this path as the ever involved doting mother. How gross, really. It is much better that I feel I want this to be done so that we can both have our separate lives and our own adult paths.

But last night the grief bubbled up. The pool of grief now is barely under the surface. The new healthy ground is allowing me the luxury of realizing what really did happen this past year. We fought to save her life. It was a pointed determination and conviction that knew not what was to come but was willing to overturn all obstacles including the haunting notion that she was dieing. To fight this fight it was better to set our sites on the outcome we wanted, new lungs, a successful transplant and a new life. What was happening in our midst and under our pounding hands was, Anna was dieing. That's the grief, that is the recognition that is finally here in a deep way. I was a mother in battle. We were a family in the most profound challenge of our lives. Last night's cries and sobs began an emptying of that grief and a deeper recognition of my own personal story. Each of us has one. That is what we are creating and writing as we move one step at a time.

One At A Time

Oh the sands of an hour glass
we watch them falling
one at a time but in a stream
marking time

The gravity of life forces the falling
One pile of passing opportunity with each grain
One pile of mounting experience with each touch down

There it is, the before and after
in front of you
Yet, never the same even in each second
of the passing,
tumbling,
falling sands

Turn it over
don't let it end
the new knowing will usher more grains
building another pile.