Licking wounds

Tonight I could not breathe. I felt trapped, I wanted to run, I could not force my tears to stay away and I even had a moment of feeling like I wanted to quit. Mostly though, I literally could not breathe.

Elizabeth has been privy to 99% of conversations about her care. It is her body afterall, and with some issues we know will stick with her a lifetime, it has always been my belief that she needs to have an understanding of her body. I also believe it gives her some kind of power. So, I rarely ask her to leave the room when a doctor is speaking to me about her. Most often she goes to her "zone" and ignores us, taking in bits of what she chooses to and later (maybe days or weeks) may ask me about something she heard talked about.

Tonight I had a long conversation with a doctor, in Liz's hospital room, that got very heated and I wish she had not been present for. It left me without breath and feeling caged. I can't go into detail about it now because it is just so long and upsetting, and that alone is proof of why I wish my Liz had not witnessed it.

The tears and pain the conversation provoked though, actually gave way to a sweet time with my girl. After I composed myself and time had passed, Liz asked if I would wash her hair. I can't put it into words, but the act of washing her hair at the sink and then holding her in my lap afterwards was so comforting to me. It made me think of an animal who, after being hurt, is licked clean by its mother. On top of the ordeal with the doctor, Liz and I had already had a rough day. In the early afternoon Liz decided she was done with all of this and all of us. She literally packed her suitcase, refused medications and care and yelled, hit and threatened to pull her iv out. For hours she threw a fit until she finally collapsed and fell asleep. Obviously, "licking the wounds" was reversed as I was washing her hair, but it was theraputic. As I sat brushing through her beautiful locks, she leaned into me and said "Mama, I am sorry about earlier today and for hitting you." I answered "I know you are. I am sorry you had to hear my conversation with the doctor." She then said "I know you are"
I feel so honored to be able to be the one caring for my child when she needs me most. The simple act helped to remind me why I fight so hard for her; why I will challenge the doctors and even battle them. They have degrees and their white coats and knowledge that I do not..... but I am a mom; I am Elizabeth Claire's mom and I will fight for her. I have an instinct that will protect her and allow me to stand strong and firm when one might expect me to cower or give in. I gave her life and I would give my life for her.... nothing is more powerful than that and nothing will keep her more safe than that.