I've been sitting here for the last thirty minutes enjoying the unexplainable sensation of feeling our baby move inside me. Even though it is the third time around experiencing this, it never gets any less amazing. Life truly is one of God's greatest miracles.
As I sit here looking out our window, I see the city of Missoula covered in snow. I can barely see the surrounding mountains due to the blowing snow and it makes me wonder if Spring will ever come. The forecast for this week is snow, snow, and more snow. I've never seen a winter like this since I moved to Missoula.
Alex and I took Cale, yet again, to the doctor this morning. Yesterday he started spitting up black mucous, which is especially odd considering he only he eats one thing and it's white. I called his doctor this morning just to make sure it wasn't anything we needed to be worried about, because you all know I would just love to have one more thing to add to the list, and she recommended we come in because she was concerned he might be spitting up blood. They drew his blood and will call later today if something unusual or alarming shows up. A part of me is hoping his blood tests will show something so that we can avoid being told "it's just one of those Cale-isms that can't be explained". I'm emotionally exhausted from never getting any answers to anything. My poor little guy is suffering and no one can do a darn thing about it. Why God won't bring his healing hand upon my son is something I don't think I'll ever understand.
One thing I've always held on to since the very day Cale was born is that God was in control. He loved Cale exponentially more than I did and He would always bring purpose and hope to our lives. Every detail of Cale's life was planned. Every doctor visit was known about in advance. Each medical mystery to us was never a mystery to Him. But now, for the first time that I can remember, I feel abandoned. Why allow a child so much suffering? I'm doubting that God is using this time and this situation for a greater purpose.
Right now I'm watching Cale thrash around in pain. He just ate and his stomach is visibly upset. I wish I could just not make him eat but he continues to lose weight and it's beginning to get dangerous for him. The thrashing used to be something Cale would persevere through but now I'm seeing him give up the fight. He spends 80% of his day laying down because that's the only position where he can maintain the most control of his body. I looked through pictures of the kids playing outside this summer and I saw a happy boy, walking barefoot in the grass, showing no signs of whatever is ailing him now. I never knew to be so grateful for those days. I never knew I would long for them again so badly. That happy and active boy in those pictures is someone I barely recognize.
I wish I could be excited for this new baby. Feeling him move is amazing but I'm so scared for the day when he arrives. The demands of caring for a newborn and Cale is something I can't even fathom.
Joy. Peace. Hope. Please come back to me soon.
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