My hero

[caption id="attachment_2665" align="alignright" width="300" caption="oh those big baby cheeks!"][/caption]

Yesterday morning, before heading to the hospital, I thought a little Lazy Jane's was in order.  Any of you who have had the privilege of eating at Lazy Jane's you absolutely know what I am talking about (yummydelicious scones and croissants).  Ben and I were having a lovely breakfast together, me interviewing him about his favorite things, him savoring all the attention.  Suddenly he told me as exuberantly as only Ben can, "This is our best day ever!"  (Although Ben looks almost identical to Thom, he gets that flair of the dramatic from my side.) 

Then on our drive home from the hospital, we saw a rainbow.  It so filled me with awe and hope.  Ben shouting from the back seat, "It's my first rainbow!!!" only added to the greatness.

Yesterday afternoon there were a couple of hours when Ellie could not speak.  She was comprehending everything being said to her, but she could not formulate the words.  You could see her struggling to get them out, but they would not come.  Now sometimes in the past, I have been able to hear in my head what she wanted to say, but yesterday not so much.  She just looked at us with wide startled eyes.  Then later in the afternoon, when she got some of her abilities back, I was so overjoyed when she was able to do (albeit a a very slow) double wave to someone exiting her room.  I mean when things seem to be dissolving before your eyes, when they come back it is like magic.  But man oh man what a roller coaster ride of emotional ups and downs.

I was thinking about the hopefulness and love and expectation I had when I was pregnant with Ellie.  About how I had a vision of what her life would be like and what our life would be like together.  I often tell people pregnant or adopting for the first time how it is so much MORE than you could ever imagine.  More love, more work, more fun, more pain, much more bodily fluids.  Never in my wildest dreams did I conceive of what she would add to my life.  I think of all that she has added to so many people's lives.  When I contemplate her leaving her physical body, which I have quite often throughout her lifetime, I know with certainty that I will never wonder if she did what she came her to do.  I see it all around her all the time.  In the way people at the hospital now use the word, "jilled".  In the way she reminds everyone around her that if she can have a funderful (fun + wonderful) day while lying in a hospital bed, not feeling all that snappy, then maybe just maybe they remember to do so too.  In the way some become more compassionate, more calm, more loving when they are in her presence.  She is my hero.