Can someone please tell me where the month of March went? I look out my window and certainly don’t see spring.
Maybe it’s because time is moving so quickly that the seasons can’t even keep up? (Makes me feel a little less bad about not keeping up with my housework if Mother Nature can’t even keep up).
The best part about March being nearly over is that it’s the month that has scared me the most. I know it’s silly, but last year, Owen was in the hospital for 29 days of March, therefore I had this horrible fear of repeating it this year. I wonder how old Owen will be when I finally don’t cringe every time someone sneezes or I won’t fear certain months and days on the calendar.
The fact is, his risks are still high. Nobody wants him sick and we still have to take precautions, but after the Pulmonary visit last week, we are starting to slowly poke our heads outside of the safety of our house. I took the boys to a restaurant for dinner…at 3:30 PM. Owen has started coming in with me to pick up and drop off Kellen at school. I even talked to the doctor about Owen going to school this summer. She said the idea makes her a little nervous too, but “Owen’s earned the right to try”. If he is starting to need prednisone regularly or gets hospitalized, we will have to be ready to pull him, but unless we try, we’ll never know if he’s ready.
Honestly, it’s these moments of hope that make me realize just how much the last two years have effected me. I’m terrified of hope. It seems too many times, I’ve hoped and things haven’t turned out as I’d wanted. My brain bashes all the hope in my heart, but somehow, my heart keeps winning. It sounds crazy, but when I feel hope, I tear up every time. In part, it’s tears of joy for what we continue to overcome. At the same time, it’s tears of fear of going backwards. Fears of another jinx hanging over our heads.
My favorite words on hope, were written by Keira Sorrells for Papa’s of Preemie’s, I Choose Hope campaign. She says, “[for some] choosing hope is not a singular moment; it is a choice we have to make over and over again.” I didn’t know it about myself, until I read it in Keira’s words. Each time I have moments of my head and heart fighting over if my welling hope is appropriate or not, I think of Keira’s words.
The fears aren’t gone, but the hope in my heart gives me the permission to let him try and that’s what Owen deserves…the chance to try.
Here are a few pictures of him trying life with longer oxygen breaks.