Anniversaries often accompany memories, and all last week I found myself remembering the events that led to Lydia's short life. I remember the tender mercies surrounding the fact that we were in a city that had doctors and facilities that could even handle us. Only 8 cities in the nation have the resources to help us - the fact that we live in one of those cities is not a coincidence.
I remember so so many doctors appointments and visits to the hospital. I practically lived there, and our doctor was constantly shifting his other patients around to make us his priority as Lydia's condition escalated.
I remember 2 days before she was born, after having a myriad of tests (again) to see how her body was doing, walking into a conference room in the hospital that was literally filled with doctors and nurses. All the doctors stood when I entered, out of respect for me. I only wish I had applauded them. They were amazing and fought so hard for us. They had an image of my daughter (still unnamed at that point) projected on a large screen, to show us how the tumor had developed. It was as big as her little body, and her heart was struggling to keep her alive.
I remember the Russian doctor that gave me the epidural before he would administer the general anesthesia for the surgery. The epidural took away my back pain and I smiled wider than I had in a long time from the relief. Oh blessed epidural.
I remember the nurse who told me she had asked her mom to pray for us at the exact time the surgery would start. I later discovered she called her mom several times during the surgery to ask her to keep praying.
I remember saying goodbye to my husband, as he left to sit in the waiting room, while his wife and his unborn child underwent major surgery. He was so strong. And still is.
I remember Lydia's long, long, long fingers; the way her soft head felt while I cradled her in my arms; and her little nose that was the perfect combination of both parent's noses. I shouldn't remember any of that - I had just awoken from an intense, all-day surgery, and the doctor told Dan that I wouldn't be able to remember anything from that day. But thanks to the tender mercies of a loving Heavenly Father, I remember.
I was in Utah last week, and had the chance to honor her grave. What a blessing it is that she is buried so close to loved ones. I hate that I am so far from her and I cherish any moment I get to spend at my sacred cemetery.
Remember how butterflies are Lydia's thing? Well, I worked hard on my first-ever "creative" cake and came up with this for her cousins to eat on her birthday (yes, it is hopelessly flawed, but it was good therapy for me to make it). I only caught one of the her cousins snitching at the frosting, and when the time came they devoured her cake. She has the best cousins in the world.
Another big tender mercy happened last week. I was with my family at a secluded cabin in Idaho. We've been there countless times (it's an amazing place). But never before have we seen so many butterflies. All weekend long, they were everywhere, literally swarming us at times. I think it was Lydia's way of saying hello to the family who never got to meet her. And I thank God for such tender mercies that remind me of His love and kindness.
Can you find all 3 butterflies?
Happy Birthday, my little angel - we love you!
