I am using this blog to share with you, my closest friends, some thoughts I have had this weekend. As the possibility (and even probability) of needing open-heart surgery after this baby comes looms ever larger before my mind (they found "regurgitation"-- a heart valve is not closing properly), I have cried more the past two days than I have cried the past five years. I am so scared. I'm scared about what it may mean for this and future babies. I'm scared that years are being shaved from my life with each malfunctioning heartbeat. I'm scared about the recovery: not being able to hold my babies for months, the toll it would take on my body, etc. In all my reading, and in the one case I have heard of (a girl from Soda Springs got it in her mid-20's), I feel like surgery is eminant. Of course, I am trying to completely suppress all of these fears and wait for the Cardiologist to call me. I pray that he will tell me it's all a fluke, I'm just fine, and life can go on as normal. However, I can't help but to be scared. It's easy for others to tell me to "have faith" and "everything will turn out just fine," but I'm finding myself having a hard time with these principles. To completely let go of fear (which is the antithesis of faith) is perhaps the most proving factor of our human existance. To trust that the Lord is in command, that He has a plan for us, and that He will comfort us and carry our burdens in our times of struggle may be the most important lesson we can learn, and yet the hardest. To live life normally this weekend has been nearly impossible, and yet I want to lean back and put it all into the Lord's hands more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. My eyes have been re-opened to what is really important in life: the Gospel, my family, relationships, and how I conduct myself. I sit here with tears streaming down my face, my throat sore from crying, and silently praying that this experience will teach me how to resolutely conquer fear with faith in the Lord, Jesus Christ. And through it all, I am also desperately holding onto hope that it will all amount to nothing, or that the surgery can be postponed until after my child-bearing years.
I love you girls. I appreciate your love and support more than you know. I appreciate the fact that I can put on a face that "I'm just fine" to the world, and then collapse at your feet and sob. You are the most understanding and best girlfriends I will ever have.