So, I recently came to a conclusion. I've known it all along, but the words just finally came together in my head. I'm not going to heal. That's right, you read it right. This side of heaven there will be no complete healing. I will never reach a point of sighing and being glad I'm all better. The best example might be thinking of an amputation. You have to adjust, learn to do things different, you learn to function in spite of what you're missing. But, never, do you grow back what you're missing. It's always gone. In some ways this is freeing. I don't need to follow anyone else's schedule. I don't need to try to feel things I don't or can't. In other ways it's just another kick while down. There are days when I am so very, very tired of hurting and I just want it to stop. The pain does change over time, though. I've seen some of that already. It really is just an adjustment, finding how to be a different normal. February 25, was 6 months since Landyn was born. Just recently I've been able to slowly start getting my house, the kids school, and life back under some kind of control. From the beginning there have been good days and bad days and very bad days. I think that will continue, but I believe the bad will, over time, not come quite as often. I think, as with body pain, you just get used to it in a way. You expect that hurt to always be there and it has less of a hold over you in time. I've always felt slightly uncomfortable with people mentioning my "healing", it just took me some time to figure out why exactly it bothered me. Healing is a journey, a continuing, present tense. For this, there is no healed.
How anxiously I await the day God himself will wipe away my last tears and she'll be there and I can hug her and hug her. Sometimes I wonder if eternity will be long enough.