A Little Bit of Faith...

We have officially made it to the "other side" of cranial surgery. We know this ride is far from over, but if the past few days have taught us anything it's that nothing is too big for God.

Wednesday night, we were trying to get Caroline settled so we could all get a little sleep before our 3am wakeup. I don't know if it was just the excitement of being in a new place, but she was wound up. Papa's RV is pretty cool. I know what you are thinking, it was the party lights and the Taylor Swift dance party that got her. Anyway, we decided to prop her up on our bed to see if the dark, coziness would inspire sleep. With Josh and I kneeling on either side of her I looked across at Josh and asked him to pray. We each offered her a finger and she grabbed on tightly. I can't remember the words he spoke only the emotion I felt. I have never known Romans 8:26 to be more applicable than in the past few months of our life.

" And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don't know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words."

Thursday morning came too soon, but strangely, I felt peace. Caroline was in a great mood which made the wait so much easier. It is very difficult to describe everything we felt during those hours before, during, and after surgery, so I thought I would let our pictures tell some of the story. 

Here she is in the pre-op room. That smile melts my heart. "Cranial surgery? Pffft! Big deal!"

Usually, Caroline wants to be held, especially when we are in a strange place, but that particular morning she actually wanted to lay on the hospital bed. Here is our brave girl trying to reassure me. 

Here I am trying to tell her that it's going to be OK and here she is telling me, "Mom! I got this!"

After all of the doctors made their rounds, they were finally ready to start. I guess it isn't quite fair to say "finally" as it was only about an hour and a half wait in pre-op, but as a parent, it feels like an eternity. Then, the nurse came to take Caroline back. She was still laying in that hospital bed- looking so tiny and fragile- smiling and cooing. I gave her a quick kiss and told her I loved her- my standard before surgery. If I pick her up, it's just too hard to let go. The nurse said , "you good, Mom?" I was about as far from "good" as possible but I nodded and left the room. Josh followed right behind, "come on, let's get out of here before she starts crying." That probably sounds a bit harsh, but if you have experienced this, then you understand. I glanced over my shoulder to get one last look at my baby wheeling towards the operating room. "Just a few more hours" I told myself. We joined my parents and Josh's dad in the surgery waiting room. 

While in pre-op, the surgeons told us Caroline would probably be in the operating room for 4-6 hours. They told us she would go straight to the pediatric intensive care unit. They told us she may need a blood transfusion (remember our enjoyable trip to the Red Cross?). Well, happily, none of those predictions came to pass. We anxiously sat in the waiting room wondering how our brave girl was doing. Then, about 3 hours after leaving her with the nurse, the surgeons walked into the waiting room beaming. The procedure went "great." It was a "success." Our girl was "fantastic." I let out a huge sigh of relief. Then, her surgeon said she would not need to go to the PICU. What? Not only could she go straight to the neuroscience unit, but she would probably only need to stay one night. What? How was that possible? We expected to be spending at least 3 nights in the hospital. Oh, and she had minimal blood loss so no transfusions were needed. What? Her doctors seemed equally surprised. About 30 minutes after visiting with her doctors, we were given the "OK" to go back to recovery to see our warrior baby.

Thank You, Jesus.

Josh and I took turns taking pictures of her. I looked up at her nurse and explained apologetically that it probably seemed strange, but we wanted to document every event, good and bad. She nodded and said her oldest child had spent several weeks in the NICU, so her baby book looked a little different, too. After a couple of hours in recovery, we headed to the neuroscience unit. Neuroscience. That's a scary word. I wasn't altogether thrilled at the thought of my baby being in that unit, but we were met with compassion from wonderful nurses. Each time Caroline cried, a nurse was quick to respond asking what she could do to help. One nurse in particular showed an unexpected level of kindness. Caroline woke up at 3am to eat. I had to go to the lactation room in the PICU to pump so I left with Josh giving her a bottle. On the way back to her room, I passed the nurses' desk and her nurse called after me, "she started crying when you left so I sang to her." I stopped. I turned to look at her. "She stopped crying, probably because my singing is so bad and she just wanted me to stop," she laughed nervously. I swallowed the lump in my throat and said quietly, "No. She loves to be sung to. Thank you." That nurse probably had pages of charting to do, but she took time to comfort my daughter in my absence. 

Finally getting to hold my baby the next morning.

Amazingly enough, we got to come home just 24 hours after cranial surgery. I am still in awe of how well she has done. The days leading up to and since surgery, our family has been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love, support, and prayers from all of you. You are such a vital part of this ride. I want to  just take a moment to say thank you for praying faithfully for Caroline and our family. When I was at a loss for words to pray, you prayed them for me. Thank you.  To my parents, thank you for being right by our side through every single twist and turn of the ride. You have shown us what the unconditional love of a parent looks like. To my brothers and sisters-in-law, thank you for taking care of our house and dogs in our absences. You know how it has pained me to be away from our furry babies. Thank you for praying for and encouraging us. Beth, thank you for pinning funny stuff on our Pinterest board so I could laugh even during some of the saddest moments. To my in-laws, thank you for providing meals the first 2 nights home. Thank you for praying for us and loving us unconditionally. To nurse Karen, thank you for singing to my daughter. Thank you to our church for showing us what being a part of the Body of Christ really means. Thank you new, sweet friends, Brandon and Vicky for visiting us at the hospital. Thank you fellow sojourners. Through your acts of kindness and your words of encouragement, we have seen God's provision. 

The next few months will be busy, filled with clinic appointments. She will undergo several tests to evaluate her mental development and helmet fittings to ensure her head develops and shapes normally. If I'm honest, I tend to focus on the potential issues we may face and I quickly become consumed with worry.  Then, I am reminded of the amazing things we have witnessed the past few days. Truly, nothing is too hard for Him.