all the moments

I don't know why my eyes were misting.  

There was really nothing special about it.  Trevy and I were just having a regular recliner based snuggle fest.  He in my lap.  The book of his choice in his.  The rejects (which he'd been scolded for enthusiastically chucking) littered around the living room floor.  Not uncommon. 

Jonathan and the kids huddled around Trevy's iPad over there on the couch.  Grams bought Toby the Madden app yesterday.  Which evidently is a hit.     

Trevy must have been iPad-ed out because he was content to cuddle me up with a book.  He was pointing.  And approximating.  And complaining when I failed to guess his approximation attempts.  Which was making me smile because he clearly knew what he was saying.  Even if I didn't.  And that is just such a miracle.  Also, he's adorably hysterical when complaining. 

My mind must have wondered because he was two handed tugging on my face.  Which has become his habit for refocusing the adults in his life.  Another adorable Trevy-ism.  

Only now he wasn't talking about the book.  I know this because he kept repeating Pop Pop.  A word that he is able to articulate clearly.  And we believe to be his universal term for Grams, Pop Pop and their house.  Understanding Trevy hinges on context.  If you can catch the context you can often crack the code of what he's attempting to say.     

Because his Grams & Pop Pop are VERY involved in his life.  And care.  And growth.  And because he loves them deeply.  We hear the word Pop Pop often scattered throughout a typical Trevy day.  Mostly it just seems very random.  Like they crossed his mind at that moment.  

But last night.  With his pudgy hobbit hands forcing my face in his direction.  So I could melt into his soul-eyes.  The word Pop Pop seemed very specific.

He was definitely trying to tell me something.  Not just randomly use his single perfect word.  I could feel it in my bones. 

And then he started blowing kisses after each Pop Pop.  He must have repeated that sequence a dozen times before I remembered.  Trevy had spent the morning with Grams.  Who had told me how Trevy cried when Pop Pop left for work. 
The context was becoming more clear and I asked...

You gave Pop Pop a kiss good bye?

His eyes glowed a resounding YES!  His goofy grin a Hooray!  Mommy caught the context!  And he was just SO happy.  My heart comprehended that his meaning was exponentially greater than his ability.  He was trying to tell me how sad he was that he had to kiss Pop Pop good bye this morning.  It was a sweet beautiful moment that caused my sappy to seep.  I was very in the moment.  Just me and Trevy.   Everything else melted away. 

Evidently Jonathan was watching from his squeezed between the other two position.  Because suddenly his voice was there...

If we could have seen this moment a year ago...

A year ago around this time we were packing.  Detroit our destination.  Where nightmare miracles are sometimes granted. 

A year ago we had no idea what the other side held for us.  We had no idea if there would even be an other side.  As it would unfold...Trevy was two transfusions close to Heaven.  

A year ago we were scared out of our minds.  Too scared to even talk to each other about it.  Too scared to sleep.  To eat.  To research.  To hope.  

All we wanted was to survive the next couple of weeks.  And hold him again.  

The stress of it drives you to the brink of insanity.  And you teeter on the edge by a thread.  Crazy thoughts assault you.  Like believing that you don't care if he has more seizures than there are seconds in a day.  Every day.  For the rest of his life.  It was a mistake to chose this.  Radical brain surgery.  Are we insane?!  Let's turn around and go home!!!!!   

But what other choice did we have?

There was no other choice. 

Most times I don't even know how I lived through a year ago.  How any of us live through any of it? 

But by the Grace of God.  

Because we couldn't peek ahead a year.  To that moment.  Last night.  Chubby hands on my face.  Context approximated and caught.  A moment so sweet and beautiful and wrapped up in more miraculous than I ever allowed my heart to imagine.    

We had to live through all the moments between this year and last.   

I suppose all of the above would explain why my sappy eyes were misting.  Even though it wasn't really anything special.  And yet it couldn't be more. 


lisa said...

My heart is full after reading that! You know that I know where you're coming from...so many times over the past week I've remembered what stage of surgery we were at this time last year...and I'm so grateful to be beyond that. To have normalcy, no seizures, a healthy, happy girl who made it through for the better.

Hugs to you my friend!

Sophie's Story by Elaine said...

Melted my heart. So happy for you, for Trevy, for your family. What a very special moment you all shared. So proud of that little boy!

MJStump said...

I totally get why the eyes were all misty. And hang on...it was definitely something special!

The moment where not only did you correctly interpret what Trevy was trying to communicate to you, but the moment where he knew that you knew what he was saying. That is so HUGE!

Every time we have been able to figure out what Kylie is saying, she has that look in her eye...that look that says "Yay Mommy, you know what I am telling you!" ...but every time it melts my heart and I am so grateful and thankful that we have been able to make it this far. It gives us hope.

So get all misty and cheer and embrace those moments where you get and Trevy gets that you get it. I love them.

Made me teary reading this post and I can imagine how much joy it brought to you all.

Love and Hugs,

Anonymous said...

This is just the beginning!!! I remember last year and where I was this time last year. So glad I could be part of all of that and of now. Love to you all!! Bibi

another mother said...

And now I am crying. . .

Anonymous said...

Tears to my eyes too.

This time last year I hadn't even found your blog, hadn't found a reason for hope, so thank you :)

kt x

blogzilly said...

Isn't it weird how a year can seem so long and yet not seem long at all at the same time? That moment kind of speaks to that, because I kind of felt like with one voice you were saying you've come so far and yet you haven't too. But then you have. But haven't.

I have to believe you know what I mean by that. You gotta. Right? Maybe?

If not I'm totally screwed.

Kristen said...

There is much more to come Danielle!! The brain is a miraculous organ and Trevy is an amazing little boy!!!

Colby said...

Thank you again for sharing your personal moments with us...

I could just SEE and FEEL and HEAR the two of you....

It IS "by the grace of God"....