Walking through the valley

I know God never gives you more than you can handle. I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.
~ Mother Teresa

It’s become a Saturday standard around here.

Will had a seizure just now. This one was particularly bad. Tonic-clonic (the type of seizure formerly known as grand mal. Prince isn’t the only one that can change his name…) And while it lasted probably around three minutes, it seemed like an eternity.

Can I just tell you how much I effing HATE that he has to go through this… you cannot even fathom the depth of my hate for this.

I seriously think I know what hell looks like – it’s watching your baby going through such a horrible episode, his body in unprovoked angst, while you stand by, helpless to stop or control it.

I would not wish this on my worst enemy.

And mixed in with the pain and drained emotions is anger. Yeah. Not at myself, for once. Novel.

I’m angry at this moment... at God.

I just don’t understand why this has to happen to MY boy. Who never ever did anything to deserve this. Whose entire existence, since the very moment he came into this world, has been plagued with issues of the health variety. C’mon – he nearly died at only two weeks old because of his precarious health. I know that this sort of thing is all he knows. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. Big fucking time.

I found myself, just moments ago, with tears running down my face and catches in my throat. Bargaining with God. Give me the seizures and the pain – take them from Will and give them to me. When one’s heart walks around outside one’s body, one does and says whatever she can to protect that heart.

I know that’s not God’s style – not His thing. He loves Will. He loves me. And we love Him. There is no question about any of that. But a mother in pain for her child says many things in the heat of the moment trying to make sense of what is to her a senseless situation.

A very wise friend (who is also a pastor) told me that it’s OK to be mad at God – if anyone can take it, He can. But (and you know there’s always a “but” with this sort of thing…) you just can’t let it consume you. Much like Ari Gold always says, you eventually gotta hug it out. In a manner of speaking.

Will’s sleeping it off now, sawing logs like he’s in the finals of the Lumberjack Games. (He inherited the Johnson sinus issues. As well as the Johnson wide feet. Lucky us.) And after some TLC from some dear friends who made me giggle, some counsel from a loving pal and some quiet time with God, I think I’ve regained some equilibrium.

Not sure why this episode affected me so deeply.

Maybe it’s because it hit Will so hard.

Maybe it’s because my feelings of helplessness simply reached their tolerance point.

Maybe it’s just because.

If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on, believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would livin' do me
God only knows what I'd be without you


AsKatKnits said...

As a wise Catholic Priest told me after I was feeling unbelievable anger at God over some horrid thing that had happened, God is big enough to take all your anger. So, send God your anger - He is ready for it!

I am sending all my love and prayers your way. I wish I was closer, I'd give you a big hug and a shoulder to cry on.

Tara R. said...

I have prayed that prayer before too.. give it to me, not my child. Sometimes my anger is a tangible thing and all I want to do is beat someone senseless with it.

It's the helplessness that really gets to me too. I do understand your anger and have shared it.

bronsont said...

Will is always in my prayers, and if you can figure out that seizure transfer thing I'll definitely take several off your shoulders.

Web-Betty said...

That Mother Theresa quote is one of my all time faves, and it is generally true. God put will in your life not just because you can handle his difficulties (and handle them with grace and dignity and laughter when needed), but because as much as Will needs you, you need him. God chose you to be Will's mother out of the millions of other mothers out there. What an amazing and scary gift.

You are loved, dear Jane. Remember we are here to help you vent, and be angry, and cry, and laugh, whenever you need us. XOXOXO

Give Will our love and I hope we can make it to the beach with you guys soon. Though you will probably have to drive to our side now.

Karin said...

TImes like these are when I really wish we lived closer together. We could cry and rail at God while drinking a bottle of whine. Aidan could cajole and entertain his "cousin" Will until he was as good as new.

ILYTTSABA my dear friend.