Where a flash mob of folks spend five minutes all writing on the same topic and then share ‘em over here. While this weekly practice is relatively new for me, I am so enjoying the ritualness of it. The savoring of these moments in my life of cared for bits of ordinary. These few minutes of reflection fill up my heart each week and spill over onto my pages creating a snapshot with words.

GO:

“Here. This is for her scrapbook.”

Angeline handed over the ghostly, grainy image she had just printed with such care. Somberly and teary-eyed, I looked down into my daughter’s heart.

For the last 3 and a half years, we had been making regular trips to see Dr. Lucas. More times than not, the news he had to deliver surprised us, for better or for worse. It gave us tenuous ropes to hold for the here, the now, the future.

“Your daughter has early signs of pulmonary hypertension and a moderately sized VSD. In the future, we may be looking at going in.”

“There is a windsock of tissue forming. There is a chance; and I don’t know how big of one, that this hole may close on its own. Time will tell.”

“We didn’t expect her to grow. At all. But she did; she has, look at her here. No doctor in this country would even think of opening her up. We’ll revisit surgery in the future. But not now.”

“Your newborn also has a VSD. It is so much smaller than her sister’s. Her aortic valve though, it is functionally bi-cuspid. Do not Google that. It will scare you. She is doing fine here, now.”

“It is nothing but good news this time. The hole, it is almost gone. Almost entirely. That windsock of tissue has no clear opening at the end now. There is a bubble formed and we can barely see blood funneling out of it. She’s going to be fine. Here, here is a picture of her heart for your scrapbook.”

Here. She’s here. They are both here. We are so very blessed to be able to continually fill our scrapbooks with our, their dear hearts.

Stop.