Without really knowing it, I have been pinning my hopes on this first assessment, happening the first week in October. Because if this assessment shows significant growth, it means Eloise can have her surgery to repair her esophagus, and we can work on her recovery and bringing her home. It means an end in sight. The nurse stuck a pin in that balloon, and I've been deflated since. I feel horrible. Depression brings out the thirteen-year-old in me, tonight I've had the fabulously melodramatic Anne of Green Gables quote in my head, "My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."
Tonight I prayed to know what Heavenly Father wanted me to do. These two scriptures came to me:
"And now, if ye have imagined up unto yourselves a god who doth vary, and in whom there is shadow of changing, then have ye imagined up unto yourselves a god who is not a God of miracles.
11 But behold, I will show unto you a God of amiracles, even the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob; and it is that same bGod who created the heavens and the earth, and all things that in them are."
I also felt prompted to listen to this talk by Sydney S. Reynolds.
This leads me to my current conflict. A part of me wants to give myself up to hope - to believe that all the fasts, prayers and my hopes that Eloise's esophageal growth and repair will happen sooner than later (read: October). I want to get my hopes up, to believe in a timeline. Her surgery will mark the beginning of the end, and I want this to end so badly.
My natural reaction to stressful situations is to assume the worst will happen, and be surprised when it doesn't. But these last six weeks have been so very difficult; every day has been difficult. Even when I am not at the hospital, even when I'm watching a movie or cooking or even sleeping, my heart is heavy. There's an endless, low-grade anxiety over my new baby, hormones that won't stop, and I just don't want to assume the worst will happen. I want to hope for an end in sight.
So what do I do? Keep my eyes only on the path directly ahead of us and never look up for the end? Try to only think about the here and now, take one hour at a time and ignore the urge to search for a conclusion?
I don't know. I'm trying to stifle my depressed-thirteen-year-old, and stay cheerful and strong for my family. To go in every day to the hospital with a smile, ready to lavish love on my baby. I'm going to try out what Sister Reynold's suggested, and keep a journal of the spiritual promptings I receive and their results. We will give Eloise a blessing this week. But I'm just not sure how much I should dare to hope.