You are the Light

Some days here at the hospital are not so bad. Aside from lack of sleep and feeling tied to machines, we are mostly just bored. 

But some days are flat out hard. 

I know Bill and I have each had our moments of breaking down. 

It's like all the little things build up and I feel overwhelmed and I have a good cry, then I can smile again, and see my blessings, and keep going. 

I had a rough night about a week ago and I want to pour my thoughts out here because in the end I learned something beautiful and I want to remember it for myself and for Dru. 

I don't recall the actual events of the day. But I do remember it being around 9 pm and I was rocking Dru in the same recliner I've been rocking her in for almost a month. I remember missing my boys and Bill, and thinking "is this real life?" 

Our nurse was in the room to give Dru her many nightly meds and casually asked how things were at home and how our boys were. 

Now I didn't breakdown immediately, but I was talking around a lump in my throat when I told her how awesome Bill is at being both dad and mom right now. Not to mention an amazing husband. It is not lost on me how blessed I am. 

And I didn't shed a tear while I told her how Dru came to be a part of our family. 

Then we started talking about our wait for a liver.

 I am really struggling with the fact that someone (probably a child) has to die for my girl to live. 

I told her that waiting for a donor and waiting to hear there was a baby to adopt are very similar. 

I struggle daily that I benefit from someone's trial. 

I struggle daily with the idea that we are a part of someone's sad story (both birthmom and donor family)--

Here is where my nurse, Christie, stopped what she was doing, put her hand on my arm, and said 

"You are the light"

Cue the waterworks here.  I never looked at it in that way before. I hugged her for a long time and just simply thanked her. 

All of a sudden I was free of the burden I put on myself of feeling like I was taking something from another family. 

It's a beautiful idea to think that maybe in some small way we can give light to someone else who has given us everything. 

Since that night in our hospital room, I have had many moments of feeling overwhelmed by this adventure. 

But those words "You are the light" , play in my mind  and I can hang on for one more minute, or one more hour, or one more day. 

Whatever my girl needs.