Growing in Grace: The Joy is in the Journey

Yesterday was quite possibly the most beautiful day of the year. It was certainly the most beautiful fall day. In east TN, there is always that one perfect, pristine fall day when the whole world is shiny and bright; the leaves are at peak and look as if they are on fire, the temperature pops back up to near 70, and the sky is a brilliant shade of blue without a trace of humidity in the air. The weather was set to change overnight, so we made the most of it and met friends to take what will hopefully become Christmas card pictures and also took a trip to the zoo. We spent our day outside, loving life, loving friends, eating a snack at the zoo, and almost missed nap time relishing in the last bit of warmth and glowing sunshine of the day. Driving home along the water, I was blown away by how amazing my life is and how blessed we are as a family, and I was brought to tears - the happy, thankful kind.

November 12 is etched on my soul.. it's the day that Addie came home. It's the day that I got to be her mama for real and my life changed forever. Absolutely, I became a mother on May 30, 2011, and my life changed forever that day, too. However, my life changed just as profoundly on November 12. At 5:30 on November 11, we began the process of moving Addie out of NICU I and into the rooming in room in NICU II. Shortly after that, Philip and I held her for the first time ever without hospital gowns on. ..and for the second time ever without a nurse in the room with us. Someone had to remind us we could take our gowns off, and I have to say it was scary and wonderful and surreal all at once. So incredible, isn't it, holding your child for the first time, reclining on a bed watching TV? It was the first mundane, every day, ordinary setting (even if we were still tucked in a room inside of a NICU with nurses just outside of the door. ..) we had ever been in with her in since she was born, and it was anything but mundane. I firmly believe that beautiful things happen in the NICU every day, and one of the most extraordinary things that happens in those walls is that parents go from being ghosts of themselves and parents-in-training to parents. Some come out to lead relatively normal lives, and others walk out of those doors, taking their first steps into a world that may never stop changing and morphing into something completely different than they expected. The trick to that exit, besides hundreds of medical miracles - maybe thousands in our case - is that it's actually just the first big step on an unknown journey.

For parents of micro-preemies and others with serious, chronic diagnosis (not all term babies are born healthy, either), walking out of those hospital doors represents freedom and a scary new world. We left as jubilant victors, thrilled and scared to death, all while clutching a list of no less than 7 specialists we would be following up with in the coming weeks. We knew we were blessed, lucky even, and we knew that Addie was incredibly strong and amazing. ..but we didn't and still don't know exactly what the future holds. That unknown is hard. We left with the naive belief that the unknown was most important - what will she be like? What will her life look like? What will OUR life look like? What is she capable of? How hard is her life going to be? Will she walk? Will she talk? Can she hear? Will she ever eat.. .and on and on. ..? I remember during those sleepless nights, getting lost in the what ifs. I remember in the long days of that first winter of staying in, seeing no one but doctors, nurses and therapists for weeks and months on end, that the fear of "what will be" drove me to ugly, sobbing prayers when I didn't squelch its whispers fast enough. "What will her life be" threatened to drive me batty.

As with anything, nothing soothes more and brings perspective like the passing of time. Three years out, I can say that I have learned, among thousands of hard fought life insights, that the joy is truly in the journey. We won't know what the future holds until we get there. I know that we have had ugly, hard months and years, but I know that we have had even more blessed and beautiful moments to drown those out. I know that yesterday was beautiful and absolutely perfect. I know that Addie has and will continue to defy the odds. So many of the what-ifs have been answered but so many more linger.. . and that's OK. I know that my life is more settled and grounded when I stop my mommy-obsessive-worrying (and Googling) and just trust in God and trust Addie. Those two make an incredible team, and they have never and will never let me down. Getting to milestones is only a small part of the victory - the moments where life happens and where our true character and joy are found are in the hours and days and weeks and months that get us there. I'm so proud of how far our sweet angel baby has come, but more than anything, I have loved every day that has brought us to this point. She is brilliant and beautiful and exactly who and where she is supposed to be. The joy is in the journey, ya'll.

Day shift primary & friend for life, Kelly, & once tiny but now "huge" baby Addie.

Night shift primary & friend for life, Allison, helping us get this little bundle

ready for her last night in the NICU. **Notice Addie holding onto her for dear life… "Don't leave me with these people!! They don't know what they're doing!!"