Well, here I sit, waiting. I've been a nervous wreck all morning, feeding off his emotions, anxieties, and fears. The biopsy is done. He says it hurt, but that it wasn't anywhere near as bad as last time. They're doing stuff as part of a study, now. They're having a bit of trouble with some bleeding at his IV site, but otherwise, he's resting on Percocet. Thank you all so much for your prayers. I wish I knew what to say.
I hurt for him. I hate to see him this way. I hate the pain. I hate the helplessness. I hate the look in his eyes. We were sitting here while they were doing a biopsy on the woman in the room next to us, and the dr said 'oh what a beautiful biopsy, I would be very surprised if this showed any cirrhosis at all'. He got upset and said 'she didn't say anything like that to me. I know he's worried.
I am worried.
I am terrified. I'm trying to put my faith in the One who already knows the results. I am trying to trust that this is going to be okay. That somehow this is all going to work out. That somehow it will all make sense in the end. That somehow, this is going to be okay. I am clinging to Him right now. I found it so very easy to pray for him while I was waiting. Begging God to ease his pain, to protect him, to give him peace and comfort. I was the only neurotic woman in the waiting room in tears.
But I was fearful. I remember the last time. He was so hurt last time, and I was terrified of walking into the room and seeing him like that again. I am so thankful that all I see in his eyes today are the effects of the Percocet. I'm thankful he can rest. And I'm thankful mostly, just for him
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.