It’s so tempting to only share the good stuff—the fun things I want to draw attention to, the memories I want to look back on and smile. But it’s not the whole story. I also want to be genuine and not gloss over the struggles.
This week has been a roller coaster. We had such good start with Gage’s first Miracle League game Monday night. I couldn’t resist sharing photos and telling the world about his excitement at the game. You see, when I signed Gage up a few weeks ago, I was excited but unsure what to expect. The days since registering him and the events that unfolded for Gage made me wonder if we’d even be able to make it to the first game, or any games for that matter.
What I’m learning is that it all exists together. Joy and pain, gratitude and grief. If I’m honest, I feel a bit lost and overwhelmed in the midst of it all. But I also cling to hope in God’s promises, even while nothing seems to make sense. And it all happens at once…simultaneously.
We’re in state of transition for Gage, addressing side effects, trying the find the right medication combination. It’s been a really rough few weeks. So I had my doubts about our first attempt at baseball this year. Being able to go to Monday’s game felt like a huge win. Gage’s squeals of delight, the wonderful weather, support from friends and family both near and far, were all amazing gifts from God. I posted online and many others responded and celebrated with us. But what few people know is the next day, Gage had a seizure at nap time. The fourth prolonged seizure in less than two weeks. Those lows aren’t things I want to share, but they are part of the story too.
Thursday we were feeling brave and again heartened by the gorgeous weather. We made our way as a family of four to the Springfield Cardinals game. Both boys’ excitement was on the next level! Caleb bounced around like a maniac trying to get a t-shirt sling shotted our way, and Gage burst into laughter on several occasions. Capturing those moments and savoring those memories is the best part of a night like that. None of us expected that literally moments later, I’d be frantically pushing Gage’s wheelchair into the first aid area, accompanied by cops and paramedics while we waited for another big seizure to subside.
In those moments of panic, I try to focus on the things I have to be grateful for—that the seizure did subside, that Evan and I were there together, that others were there to help, and that Caleb is brave and resilient and didn’t let the scary and unexpected turn of events ruin his night. But maybe that’s just another attempt to gloss over the worst parts. Truth be told, I hate that Gage, and all of us, had that happen. I have messy feelings of anger and sadness and guilt and injustice surrounding it. I’m not sure how to sort them all out, but here they are, right along with the opposite emotions that coexist.
So, this confession won’t be all sunshine and rainbows. It won’t be only the highlight reel, but it won’t leave out the good parts either. Sharing and celebrating the good moments matters just as much as acknowledging the hard stuff. You can’t tell the whole story without all the parts. Thanks for being along with us for all of it, the highs, lows and everything in between.