There is a clear pattern to my Bad Days. They coincide directly with having to say goodbye to Ransom, or Brett...or both. It's pretty cut and dry and I know I don't have to explain why it's hard to pull it back together again and re-focus on why in the world we are doing this, but for some reason those bad days still shake me a bit.
Today, Tabitha had a really good doctors visit and so did I. We both passed every test with flying colors and my Doctors were so optimistic they were throwing around things like "37 weeks" and other such crazy full term words. And I promise that was great news to hear considering what we've been through, but at the same time my heart was still stinging from my most recent goodby with my son and my heart was also preparing for my goodbye with Brett and so there was a part of me, a major part of me that was thinking...really?! Six more weeks? I. Can't. Do. It.
Awful, I know. How can I not want that for my daughter? But for now I will allow myself a little awfulness and know that tomorrow will be a little better. The sting of my goodbyes will be a little further behind, and the happiness of their next visits will be a little bit closer.
Because really last week could have been the worst, I was "by myself" for the first time in months and I was wondering how all the downtime (aka time to think) would affect me...but honestly it was good, I actually met people, I heard people's stories, I listened to their troubles ( and let me tell you, here people have Real Troubles) and I told our Story. I told about the miracle of Tabitha and the testimony of Priscilla. I am thankful for that and I realize that these are not little things. The walk through the desert is not JUST about getting to the other side, but it's also about the desert itself. I'm hoping it won't be for 40 years or anything dramatic like that, but I do hope I can remember that even in the desert days we have a chance to wake up and do something worth while with that day.