Shortly after we arrived, her transfusion had started, and then it hit. Like a ton of bricks. She was done. Worn out. Overwhelmed. She wanted her bed. She was tired of the nurses checking her blood pressure and temperature every 15 minutes. And tired of people smiling and waiving at her. It was unusually busy in the infusion bay, and there was lots of hospital noise...she just lost it.
The screaming and crying began. And then the hitting and hair pulling. And then the shouting, "No! Stop it!" The nurses rushed over, checking her for complications from her transfusion...only making things worse. They helped me attempt to take her for a wagon ride and then a walk to see if that would help. And again only making things worse.
I could see the stares. And hear the whispers. And one even said to me, "That girl is out of control."
I just smiled back. Secretly thanking God that I had lived through this before and that I could now keep my composure. I thanked Him for His grace and never ending love. I was wishing I could tell them my girl was not out of control....wishing I could tell them heartache my girl has been through.
The nurse quickly cleared and cleaned a private room for us. I asked for a blanket and gently laid Ayla on the floor so she could "work it out". She laid on the floor kicking, screaming, and shouting at me- her mommy. Oh how my heart just ached for her.
Ayla has never felt the gentleness of mother's touch before when she is hurt, sick or tired, or just "done". The only thing she has known is the comfort of a crib. My touch, my voice, my kisses and hugs are foreign to her when she needs them the most. Hugs and kisses, rocking and signing are for play time only. She wanted the comfort of her bed and the quiet, dark, empty room. And as heartbreaking as that is, that is her reality...and mine.
As she screamed and cried, I laid as close to her as she would let me, and prayed. I asked God to fill in the gaps for me. Begged Him to bring my girl the comfort and love that I could not give her. I begged Him to love her for me. I did not look at her, or touch her, or even sing to her. And I wanted to so badly. I wanted to scoop her up, rock her, and love on her...I couldn't...it would only make things worse for her. So I waited.
An hour later she finally let out her last scream, and her little arm reached over and touched me. I picked her up. We rocked in the chair as she continued heave heavy sighed breaths. I was able to just love her and sing to her. I ran my hand over her hair and over her wet cheek. I dried her tears. And, soon she looked up at me, making eye contact and then put her head back down on my chest. I told her it was alright and okay to cry, and be scared, and mad. I told her that I loved her...
As heartbreaking as it all is, I was so thankful that she had the ability "to let it all out".
The nurse came back in to check on us. And I tried my best to explain to her what had happened...I did not want Ayla to carry that "out of control" label. She said she did understand. I really hope she did.
Times like we had on Friday are always hard. They are very much a part of adoption too. Our kids have been through so much heartache and loss. To just expect the love of a family to "fix it all" is not a reasonable expectation. I will gladly walk this road with my children and my God.
I am so thankful for the blessing of all of my beautiful children. I love them all so very much.
But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.