good news, sad news

Well, the surgeons who saw Miss C on Friday were very pleased with her progress. We are elated to know that at this time they do not see ever having to do nerve reconstruction on our daughter. She still has a ways to go, but is definitely progressing. They did tack on a disclaimer that they'd be 'very surprised if we have to do surgery on her'...anything can happen, I suppose. But, they looked happy for us. They also mentioned that down the road she could end up needing another type of surgery should she be lacking in function (muscle modification, I believe). However, we were told that is a long way off and right now there's no way to know if it will even be necessary, so we won't worry about for now.

I suppose I feel a mild letdown that my daughter is not fully 'fixed' or 'cured' right at three months. I want her to be 100%, and to be honest, developmentally at 3 months of age a baby cannot do some of the things that they'd watch for. Figures. I think a small part of me felt that they'd say, "She's better now, go on home." Instead, we will spend years with therapy to make sure that as she grows she does not lose function and continues to grow and refine her motor skills correctly. My mind already knew all of this because I'd discussed it with her therapist, Jeff. My heart, however, wanted to hear differently.

Of course, we are thankful that things are so mild in her case. I have read of some sad stories and praise God He has shown abundant mercy on our family. I still rest in the assurance that He maintains control. I surely do not need to be the one in control!

On another note, my son experienced his first loss this weekend. Right after Miss C was born, one of my parents' dogs had to be put to sleep. Since Little B rarely sees the dogs these days (he was actually allergic to this one because of her long hair), we waited until our lives had settled a bit to break the news to him. Well, we were headed to my mom's for Mother's Day, so needless to say, it was time to tell him.

This was a long-haired Chihuahua who was quite old and in recent years was showing signs of illness. As it turns out, she had a brain tumor. (We spared the details for my son...he just knows she was sick and died at the Vet's.)

My son's heart was broken. Death is hard to grasp at any age, and at four it's somewhat evasive. We found a picture of him with her that he love to carry around, and he can occasionally be found sitting contemplatively prior to some question like, "Where is she? But, where in the ground? Where in the hole? Why?" He actually tries really hard to understand, and overall is fine. But, when his sadness hits, I ache for his little hurting heart and hold him and tell him that my doggie died, too, and I know it hurts. That it's okay to cry and miss her. I'm trying to let him grieve at his own pace. At the same time, I am so grateful that it was just a dog. I'm glad his first experience with death was not a close family member. And I pray that such an experience waits many more years.