Grateful We Came Home

Grateful. That’s what I feel every time we exit Children's Hospital, drive out of the parking garage, navigate the expressway, and cross the bridge.

One of our children went for a routine specialist appointment yesterday, if any child seeing a specialist is routine for a parent. Relatively uneventful, there was no new diagnosis or earth-shattering prognosis. Just more watch, wait, and see. Keep checking numbers as needed.

The unpredictable and most difficult part was my child’s fear of being poked or prodded. Resistant even to being weighed on the scale, we were weighed together, and then my weight was subtracted from the total. (We’ll do almost anything for our children, won’t we?)

But we got to leave. Sometimes my husband and I see the plastic bags parents carry, and there’s always that question—who’s coming or going? How long?

I’m grateful we came home—because I know there are some who stay all day into the night, and into tomorrow. And longer. I know because we’ve been that family.

I’m grateful it was “routine.” It’d be nice if it didn’t need to be, but this is the path we’ve been given to walk. It sounds strange to say this path has grown familiar, but I remember when it was unfamiliar, and those early days were disorienting and frightening.

I’m grateful for access to excellent medical care. Children fly to this hospital from all over the world, and we only cross one state border. For one of my children’s conditions, this hospital was one of only two in the world that offered a test she needed.

I’m grateful for a relatively quiet medical season for our family. I don’t take it for granted because it’s not always this way, and everything can change so fast.

I’m grateful for today with my children. At home. Living, laughing, and loving one another. Eating meals together. Creating art. Completing school lessons. Keeping play dates. Swings and slides at the park.  

I’m grateful for these gifts of moments, minutes, hours, and days. Yes, they’re messy. Yes, there’s conflict. Yes, there are tears and disappointments.

I’m grateful to the Giver of these days, and I’m grateful for his presence with us, filling our home and filling our hearts.

I’m grateful he formed my children in my womb, fearfully and wonderfully, and that nothing is hidden from him. He knows the number of their days, each one of them. Today, tomorrow, next week, and forever.

I’m grateful that when we go back to Children’s Hospital, which we will, he goes with us. Even the unknown future isn’t darkness to him, for “the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light” with him (Ps 139:12).

Grateful. I'm so very grateful. 

For more about Katie's book, Loving My Children, click here. 

Email Katie at lovingmychildrenbook@gmail.com.