Last year, we had a lot of issues with our daughter Londyn. It started one evening when she was a week old. I heard her screaming and I ran in to our bedroom to find her struggling for air. I grabbed her and ran to my husband full of panic. It seemed like hours that she struggled to breathe, but it was only about 5 minutes. This "episode" was the beginning of many "episodes" to come and many weeks and months of fear.
The burden began that night in the hospital. I walked down the hall carrying her. I felt very small and helpless. But a spirit of resiliency began to grow. I was going to take care of her no matter what. I would not allow anything bad happen to her. I would watch her every moment. I would stay by her side. I could save her.
For weeks, I could not sleep. Sleep felt so selfish. Why would I choose to sleep when it could potentially mean my daughter's life? So I watched her. I rarely had her out of my sight. Nights were the worst.
The event that will forever stay etched in my mind began one evening when the night began to fall. I felt the familiar feeling of panic start to slowly creep into my chest. I was completely spent. I hadn't slept for what felt like forever. I could not allow myself to sleep because I needed to watch her. I needed to make sure she was ok. I needed to be strong and be the hero. But I was spent.
For weeks, I could not sleep. Sleep felt so selfish. Why would I choose to sleep when it could potentially mean my daughter's life? So I watched her. I rarely had her out of my sight. Nights were the worst.
The event that will forever stay etched in my mind began one evening when the night began to fall. I felt the familiar feeling of panic start to slowly creep into my chest. I was completely spent. I hadn't slept for what felt like forever. I could not allow myself to sleep because I needed to watch her. I needed to make sure she was ok. I needed to be strong and be the hero. But I was spent.
I sat on the edge of my bed and eventually ended on the only place I could go for comfort...my knees. I pled for Heavenly Father to make Londyn breathe. I pled for Him to make her all better. But as my prayer evolved, a new idea began to grow. It was hard to hold on to the idea at first. I fought against it. It felt unfathomable and yet was accompanied by enough peace I wanted to entertain it.
Heavenly Father loved my daughter more than I did.
How could that be?
He would do everything in her best interest because of His love for her. (and this didn't necessarily mean life)
Impossible.
I could pass on the burden that I had been carrying. He could take that burden.
Could I possibly do that?
How could that be?
He would do everything in her best interest because of His love for her. (and this didn't necessarily mean life)
Impossible.
I could pass on the burden that I had been carrying. He could take that burden.
Could I possibly do that?
We are meant to fight through this life...I mean really fight. We take the punches and roll. We walk the extra miles that are set before us. We keep going and enduring and pushing and pulling. But sometimes, the hardest part is having to give up the fighting and allow the Savior to pull us while we rest.
That moment came when I was able to completely give my will and my burden to the Lord.
When the prayer turned from please make Londyn breathe to please allow me to wake if there is a problem, but if not please let me be ok with whatever happens. (and believe me...I could imagine many "whatever happens" scenarios).
The moment I said this prayer, the burden was lightened. Peace filled my whole being and the fear was muted. I was placing Londyn in much more capable hands then my own. I was giving up the control.
And the most wonderful thing happened.
I slept.
And the most wonderful thing happened.
I slept.