Ivey has been home one week today. I wonder how many times I have said that?
I was asked in the hospital just how many surgeries she has had, how many hospital stays are in her past. I don't know. It is a number I have never cared to keep up with. As important as each surgery has been or day, night, week or month has been at Scottish Rite, that number is irrelevant. It's too many. Some things are better off forgotten. Each has left a scar on us and in our hearts. Scars that will never really fade. These scars have both physically and mentally altered us. These scars remind me of my weaknesses, and Ivey's, and they are proof of our strength. They define part of us, but they are not all of us. Rather, I like to think of all the days she has lived and smiled and the number of years that she spends with us on this Earth, despite all the other. But while this wound is healing, before the scar, while all is still tender and raw - we are vulnerable to the circumstances.
My girl no longer looks like my girl. Her upper jaw and mid-face have moved forward substantially. Last Friday she had a new bruise on her cheek - so her surgeon wanted us to hold off making any more turns to the distractors until he was able to see her yesterday. The weekend was a good weekend for her. I think having a couple of days off from the turns and time for healing and swelling to subside more made her feel better. A lot better.
Dr. Williams was so happy to see how the distraction is progressing. A surprised happy. What we thought would be weeks of turning now has a light at the end of the tunnel. It looks like the turns will be complete by the weeks end. We hope to over-correct Ivey's jaw so that when it begins healing it will naturally pull back in a bit. Once the distraction ends, she will wear the distractors for 6 to 8 weeks. Then she will go back for another surgery to remove the hardware.
We can do this. Just a few more days. Pain medications have been increased. Sleep is still nonexistent. Days do not end or begin, they just fade one into the other. We are exhausted.
Our girl doesn't look like the Ivey you know. She looks different, but when she plays, she is most definitely our girl. Still as her mom, seeing her change before my very eyes is hard. It hurts and makes me happy for her all at the same time. I want her smile back, the one I know, but I know it is gone forever. A new memory that I will hold onto for awhile until this new fits. There is a new smile merging. One that will be in our future. Nevertheless, Ivey has added to her scars, her show of strength and her signs of surviving. A survivor. Tenacity and stubbornness. One who defies all logic. One who is resilient. One who is part me, part Matt. Her scars are reminders of the true beauty in this world. The important things. She is my beautiful girl.
So, today she wears her new t-shirt - in her own honor.
I was asked in the hospital just how many surgeries she has had, how many hospital stays are in her past. I don't know. It is a number I have never cared to keep up with. As important as each surgery has been or day, night, week or month has been at Scottish Rite, that number is irrelevant. It's too many. Some things are better off forgotten. Each has left a scar on us and in our hearts. Scars that will never really fade. These scars have both physically and mentally altered us. These scars remind me of my weaknesses, and Ivey's, and they are proof of our strength. They define part of us, but they are not all of us. Rather, I like to think of all the days she has lived and smiled and the number of years that she spends with us on this Earth, despite all the other. But while this wound is healing, before the scar, while all is still tender and raw - we are vulnerable to the circumstances.
My girl no longer looks like my girl. Her upper jaw and mid-face have moved forward substantially. Last Friday she had a new bruise on her cheek - so her surgeon wanted us to hold off making any more turns to the distractors until he was able to see her yesterday. The weekend was a good weekend for her. I think having a couple of days off from the turns and time for healing and swelling to subside more made her feel better. A lot better.
Dr. Williams was so happy to see how the distraction is progressing. A surprised happy. What we thought would be weeks of turning now has a light at the end of the tunnel. It looks like the turns will be complete by the weeks end. We hope to over-correct Ivey's jaw so that when it begins healing it will naturally pull back in a bit. Once the distraction ends, she will wear the distractors for 6 to 8 weeks. Then she will go back for another surgery to remove the hardware.
We can do this. Just a few more days. Pain medications have been increased. Sleep is still nonexistent. Days do not end or begin, they just fade one into the other. We are exhausted.
Our girl doesn't look like the Ivey you know. She looks different, but when she plays, she is most definitely our girl. Still as her mom, seeing her change before my very eyes is hard. It hurts and makes me happy for her all at the same time. I want her smile back, the one I know, but I know it is gone forever. A new memory that I will hold onto for awhile until this new fits. There is a new smile merging. One that will be in our future. Nevertheless, Ivey has added to her scars, her show of strength and her signs of surviving. A survivor. Tenacity and stubbornness. One who defies all logic. One who is resilient. One who is part me, part Matt. Her scars are reminders of the true beauty in this world. The important things. She is my beautiful girl.
So, today she wears her new t-shirt - in her own honor.
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