Because You Can't Plan Perfect

I am in super planner mode. I love this mode. It means I get to write lists and then cross the things off the lists, and make more lists, and then re-write the lists in fancy ways. It's fun, because that's the kind of fun I like to do.

I get in this mode when I am:

A) avoiding work
B) stressed about work
C) reality is staring at me in the face and not blinking
D) coping
E) overly excited about something that clearly needs to be planned

(Cough moving again cough)

And so, it should be said that when I was pregnant with my dearest and loveliest Grace Harriet, I did not plan for her arrival. I continued to work 40 hours a week; I pushed through my morning sickness the best I could [I had the best and most understanding employers ever-ever too]; and, honestly, I had the best time being married, while also going through three tough major life events with him.

I was strong for him and with him, and that felt good. It felt very married.

I love this picture - my perfect new baby!

We moved to New Orleans and I spent a majority of my time getting settled and unpacking, writing for my Story Sessions writing workshop, napping, binging on mystery shows of Netflix (specifically, Rosemary & Thyme, Poirot, and Monk if you need awesome show ideas), learning my way around New Orleans, getting my appetite back, swimming with Will, and more sleeping.

I channelled Will and decorated her nursery with our love. I tried to get really excited about meeting her. I daydreamed about what having a baby would be like.

Fast-forward to Grace Harriet's birth: awesome. Steady pace, epidural, no complications, and life-giving. I did not take any birthing classes beforehand (besides a free basics one at the hospital), and while it was mildly informative, I enjoyed seeing other pregnant woman and eating the complimentary cheese.

And I'm tearing up as I type this because I love Grace so much. She is my baby, and she is perfect. She is social and lovely and sassy. She smiles for almost all of my pictures, and we like to laugh together. I've never been so smitten. Grace has legitimately changed my life for the better.

Since Grace was three months, we've noticed that her right arm does not move as intentionally as her left, and she likes to keep her right hand fisted. In a possibly related note, her right leg is a bit weaker than her left. We've brought it up to her doctors, and by six months, we got the go ahead for physical therapy. Thus began a month-ish of interviews and multiple evaluations. Yes, a healthy pregnancy. No, nothing abnormal. Yes, she does have the most beautiful blue eyes.

My beach bum bebe

Finally, we met Grace's therapist - a vivacious woman who has been doing this for over 20 years, and has a young daughter with cerebral palsy. Ms. Lisa is an amazing resource of information. She is gentle and firm with Grace as she stretches her and helps her gain more muscle mass (needed for her fine motor skills as well as her gross), and teaches us how to ESTIM her, since we'll need to buy our own and do it twice (or more) a day to help Grace recognize and use those muscles more (she is responding so well to this treatment!). She'll get a tiny hand splint to help keep her right hand open more.

There are a lot of positives - whatever Grace has, with persistence and lots of therapy, she should do just fine. She has great range of motion, moves her arm and hand voluntarily, and is very flexible. She is able to withstand long PT sessions, and is generally in a good mood as we contort her body and during ESTIM sessions. We're seeing a specialist on Thursday - a physiologist who is triple board certified in pediatrics and sports medicine; the doctor himself also has cerebral palsy and a reputation for diagnosing hard cases.

Ms. Lisa working with GHB

But when Ms. Lisa and Will are talking during a session, and words like cerebral palsy and hemiparesis are being said towards Grace, I want to cry. They are not life-threatening conditions, and for that I am sososososo grateful. I suppose I am just in shock, of sorts - and it is the confirmation that my gut told me everytime someone said, Maybe she's just going to be a lefty.

No! It's something more. Something we did not plan on; or expect, for that matter.

At mass yesterday, I stopped feeling anxiety for Grace. It was temporary, and a good reminder to go to God. God, who loves perfectly. God, who gave his only Son. God, the Alpha and the Omega and the one who loves us and carries us and knows us each intimately. God has the best plans for Grace. I need to trust in him, and talk to him, and avoid the company of scary thoughts. It is Satan who plants doubts. Satan spreads sadness. Satan hates the hope Love gives me.

Mama Mary, full of Grace, guide me to be the best mother to GHB.
{statue at St. Patrick's on Camp Street, NOLA}

Grace is going to be okay. Struggle is okay. The most important things are to continue loving her wholly, doing PT with her, teaching her cheerfulness instead of shame, and continuing to praise and go to the God who made us, who knew each of us before the womb (Jeremiah 1:5). It's amazing to me how babies thrive in the love of their parents. I need to learn to thrive better in the light of God's love of me.

May I continue to be open to his plans, and plan along with God, the Great Creator.