One Week

A week ago right now, 11:30ish pm, I was cold with fear. I was packing up a few last items for our trip to the hospital for Little Warrior's surgery. Though I tried not to, I would gaze at her, wondering if she would be returning home.

Tonight, I gaze at her in her hospital bed, filled with gratitude. Her abdomen is smooth and slender. Her color is good. She spent most of this evening laughing at me, as we played tent under the covers, "hat monster" (don't ask), and just looking at each other and being made happy by the other's face. I thanked her for coming back to me.

Tonight, I pack up a few last items because we will hopefully return home tomorrow. This journey is far from over ... there are histology reports, CT scans, post-op chemo and maybe post-op radiation in our future.

But there's a future.

Friday, almost a week ago, I went to the hospital chapel after having to hand over my baby into the anesthesiologist's arms, not knowing when, or if, I would hold her again.

In the little chapel, with The Husband, I sobbed. I couldn't stop. Finally, compelled by some deep longing inside me, I dropped to my knees in what can only be referred to as supplication. Please, I begged. That was the only word that cried out from my heart. Please.

Later, I can analyze why and what. Tonight, "please" has been replaced with "thank you." Tonight, it doesn't matter to whom -- or what -- those words are directed.

I am profoundly grateful.