Go Ahead and Cry

In 2007, my father-in-law passed away following his third heart attack.  Two weeks later, my husband had his first heart attack.  Everything went well for my husband as he recovered, he practically danced out of the hospital the next day.  Not long following my husband's successful recovery, he had to return for a follow up procedure to add one more stint to a nearly blocked artery.   His return visit was nearly his last.

I sat in the waiting room with family and pastor waiting for the procedure to end expecting to waltz out of the hospital the next day.  There was no damage to the heart from the mild attack.  There should have been no complications from the current procedure. I had prepared myself that the procedure could go longer than expected. I had no fear when it did.  I could hear the doctor's name being paged multiple times over the intercom.  I thought his office was trying to get a hold of him. I never thought that is was my husband barely hanging on to life.

The doctor's primary nurse came out and told me that there were complications and they were having trouble resuscitating my husband.  An hour or so later, the doctor came down and confirmed that they were still having trouble.  The doctor could not even look me in the eye to tell me.  He suggested that we go up to ICU to see my husband, just in case.

Before we left, I cried.  People that I didn't even know came up to me to console me, to tell me that as a Christian, I could put my trust in Christ to take care of him, that I could put my hope in deliverance by grace.  They told me that I did not have to cry.  Those with hope don't cry.  To keep from making more of a spectacle of myself, and to alleviate the fears of those around me, I quickly wiped the tears away.

My husband was in the hospital for a week recovering and during that time I lived in the waiting room.  On one occasion, I walked down the hall, sat down and had an all out cry.  Every thought, every stored emotion poured out.  No one was around.  I did not have to think about anyone else.  I was able to unleash the frustrations and fears and deal with them one at a time through the tears.  Crying is okay.  Crying is therapeutic and brings you in touch with raw, honest emotions.  I was able to bring closure to these emotions and begin to build a bridge toward a healthy touch with reality.

As a mom with a child that has three rare conditions, Cold Urticaria, Dysautonomia and Ehlers Danlos, I consistently face frustrations dealing with changes in symptoms, changes in medications, doctors, schools, church leadership and friends that don't understand.  For every step I make forward, I fall two steps backward.  There are times I am scared, times I am mad, times I am crushed and I times I don't know what to give.  But, I have always left myself open for when it all becomes too much, to step away from the crowd and have a good cry.

When I am done, my mind is clear, my resolve is stronger and as a mother of a special needs child, I am ready to take on her world once again.  Believe it or not, it made my faith stronger, it brought me closer to my Christ.

P.s. My husband is alive and well. :)