Thinking about Holland

This morning I had started a post about being envious. I hate the feeling. It's dark and it's moody and it takes away from the things you have in life that you should be appreciating. So, instead of finishing that post I put on some music, started making pumpkin muffins and sat down with Lily Belle to color in her coloring book.

The music continued and today is just a sappy kind of music day, which is fine with me because it's rainy out and we're hanging out in our PJs. It's a good day for thoughtful lyrics and sing-along ballads.

And then a new song came on. "I'm going to love you through it" by lovely Martina McBride and it just hit me. This is what I needed. Music therapy to make me realize that I have what I need.

This line and the chorus hit me heart in just the right spot:


"She said, "I don't think I can do this anymore"He took her in his arms and said "That's what my love is for"
When you’re weak, I’ll be strong
When you let go, I’ll hold on
When you need to cry, I swear that I’ll be there to dry your eyes
When you feel lost and scared to death,
Like you can’t take one more step
Just take my hand, together we can do it
I’m gonna love you through it."

Part of my needing to hear, read and share these words are because I read an addition to the Holland story this morning and it just brought back a lot. You can read that Here. And I guess I just understood that we've made it out of the airport. And of course, it reminded me of all those times we were lost in the hallways in the airport (really, you have to read the Holland story and the one I just posted to understand what I'm saying here!) 

When did this happen? When did we make the transition from being so lost and alone and confused to appreciating "Holland?" When did I start looking past SOD and the glasses and the medicine and seeing my daughter again? 

When things got better? When we started handling it better? When she started sleeping, eating, developing better? How did it go so unnoticed? I thought it would be some earth shattering revelation when we finally were able to look around and appreciate where we are, what we've done and been through. How we have changed and developed and grown together as a family. I guess because so much of us was broken down that day and everyday got a little bit better, a little bit easier, even with the big set backs. It was just little pieces that slowly built us back up that it was hard to notice how much better everything is today. And I'm glad that something as simple as another essay or a new song can show me that about myself and my family. 

I should say that I totally agree with the new essay when she says,

"After you’re ready, and get out of the airport, you will get to know Holland and you won’t regret the fact that you have traveled. Oh, you will long for Italy from time to time, and want to rage against the unfairness from time to time, but you will get past the little voice that once said “Take this back from me. I don’t want this trip at all.”"

Kind of like the Holland story when she says,

"But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss."


Every now and then I think back to the "never ever ever ever's" and shrug my shoulders and say, it will go away. it's going away, isn't it? But I'm not sure that I know the answer to that yet. I can still feel that raw, earth-shattering fear and pain from that day in the hospital. It tears at my heart and literally steals my breath away. And the anger is just on the outside of that pain.
Yes. Things are better but there's still things that make me angry. Things "normal" children can do (sleep through the night!) or don't have to do (medicine, shots, blood tests) bring back that anger. Not as sharp as before but it's there and it makes me feel ashamed, just as the jealousy does. But I guess it's all normal feelings.
And who knows, maybe the pain will go away, or at least lessen. Maybe the anger will fade into nothing and I'll forget I ever felt that way. My guess is that it's wishful thinking. I do think the pain will always be there, just under the surface and right under that is the anger. But as long as I don't dwell on the pain or the anger, and I can look at my daughter and my life and appreciate how far we have come and how amazing we all are because of what we've been through, well, then I think we'll be okay.