It’s been ten years.
Ten years since my husband collapsed and left the doctors baffled. Ten years of us juggling vitamins, managing symptoms, me insisting on naps and good meals. Ten years with no answers, then partial answers, then what seemed like the answer (narcolepsy dx, about 5 years ago). Sometimes symptoms have gone away, for months or years… and then there’ll be something else that seems reminiscent of the first time.
Maybe I relaxed too much. Maybe the dx made me think we were past all that.
But last week it all converged. The once-random-eye-twitch became severe eye pain. The tremors went from barely noticeable and short to severe and hours long. And this morning my husband had tremors for hours… all through teaching Sunday School and church… probably darn near terrified the people in his class.
And here I sit, nursing a cough, home with our 5 littles who are getting over the cough I now have.
The thoughts swirl:
- Is it MS?
- Is it his meds?
- What’s going on?
- Just when things feel settled…
- Am I going to be a widow?
- How are we going to tell people?
- Oh goodness we’re pregnant with our 8th child.
And then that last one… maybe because my heart is more trained in my attitude toward children than any other area… reminds me:
Center your heart on truth, girl.
- God is good.
- He is faithful.
- He never leaves His children begging for bread.
- You don’t have to grasp to control life. He’s got it under control. Always.
And the tears come. Again.
- His hands are shaking, Lord.
- The fork arrhythmically hits the plate through dinners.
- His fingers keep missing the computer keys he means to hit. Thank God for voice-to-text, he says.
- Is it safe for him to still hold Luke?
I feel all swallowed up, whole. Despairing. All I can do is lay on the couch, eyes brimming.
Why are you crying, mama?
I just feel sad, baby.
And then at the grocery store last night, I passed the man who reeks of pot. His eyes glazed over, a dull expression on his face, he’s browsing for beer.
Dear God, there are so many people who need you. Who might not know of or ever taste Your goodness. And here I am navel-gazing and despairing over a godly man who loves me and loves our children. Even if the worst happens, we both know because of Jesus we’ll be together for eternity. And I’m sad. Why should my heart be sad? You’ve given us an amazing adventure so far. Far more than we ever deserved.
But LORD! He’s the only one who knows my jokes. All the reference points of our lives. The train station conversation. The collapse of tears because of Cracker Barrel. Leaning forward to will the Vanagon along. Mile marker 15. Our landlords standing on the front lawn opening their mail with rubber gloves and masks on because of Anthrax. The sermon that changed it all… and that only gets us to year 4 of our marriage. No one else knows it all, but us. LORD please don’t take this man.
Oh God, what a selfish heart I have. This sweet man is shaking non-stop and here I am worried about me.
Time to do the next thing.
And on and on it goes.
This post really doesn’t wrap up well. There are no answers for now. Just waiting. We’re currently waiting for #3 of what will be 5? 6? 8? appointments.
Less than 10 days ago, my husband was just peeing a lot and we couldn’t figure out why. Now symptoms are piling up higher than a hoarder’s closet.
I’m just trying to let in a peek into our real lives, today, amidst the Q&As and sharing insights I believe will be helpful for young mothers. It’s not tied up with a nice, neat bow.
Y’all pray with us please.
I feel ever so much weaker than I did 10 years ago. Then, I faced these things with great faith and confidence in God, amidst tears.
This time around, I am prone to navel gazing and maybe too, it’s that I’m old like Moses. I’ve seen enough to know this could be a hard battle. I know this life is not hearts and flowers. I look in my kids’ eyes and wonder what road God has planned for them.
I know He lays down the best paths, but sometimes the best paths on earth are still painfully hard to walk.
I need other people to hold up my arms. Or something.