surviving the storm.

It's been roughly a month since surgery.  That's... a rough estimate, and a rough journey-- in some, but not all, ways.

Physically, Keagan is healing GREAT.  His echo last week shows that his damage has gone from 59% down to 38%, and they expect within the next month, that that number cuts in half again, and then hopefully again once more within the next few months.  As I've mentioned, there are still issues, BUT, his "risk" of major heart problems is well under 5% until he hits puberty.  At that point, we may have some complications, but I've never felt more relieved that my little man is only 2 1/2.  I know he'll grow in a flash, but having 10+ years of free and clear (fingers crossed) heart function is beautiful!  This time a month ago, we had a solid chance of getting through the summer without any issues (by issues I refer to heart failure, heart attacks, and the like) and not much past that.

Emotionally, he is still recovering.  He still has a fear of anyone wearing scrubs, and endures his check ups with a war-weary look on his face that breaks my heart.  He's learning (and I am learning) how to deal with a boy who feels GOOD all the time, so there are a few more temper flares than usual from both of us, a little less snuggling (which I miss, but I can give up to see him flourish), and a LOT more time outs as he begins to moderate his energy with what is acceptable in public or at home.  We're spending a lot of time at the pool, where he can splash and swim and get out tons of energy at once, and taking a lot of walks as a family to explore and stay active without acting like a crazy child.

His incision is still very visible, but has closed up completely and is healing well.  The doctor suggested Mederma, or some other scar-hiding topical medicine, but we've decided against it.  I personally LOVE his scar, even though it makes my heart ache a bit, it means that he's alive, and will continue to be.  The jagged line across his back holds the same status to me as my c-section scar and stretch marks-- they represent the life of a boy who is infinitely precious to me and many others around him.  Maybe we had to work a little harder and hurt a little more for him to get here and to stay here, but by the grace of God and modern medicine, he's living, and for that I am infinitely, wordlessly, tearfully blessed and grateful.

And so, on June 15, 2011, I claim for my son that we have walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and we have come through the other side.  Just writing that, I get tears in my eyes, but I proclaim it as truth from the very depths of my being.  We did not get lucky-- we have been absolutely covered in prayer every step of this journey, and I have no doubt that while I did not personally feel God's presence in the hospital room, and while I felt absolutely empty and alone, my baby was never alone and was cradled carefully in the arms of Christ from start to finish.  For that matter, as I say that I felt alone, and I even struggled with feeling angry, I have no doubt that I was NOT alone any more than Keagan was, and that I was carried through this experience by a strength that was not possibly my own.  Had I walked through this of my own strength, I surely would have fallen apart much more than I did, and I believe that Keagan, and also my unborn child would have both suffered greatly if I hadn't had to journey through for months before surgery to surrender the situation to God.