Goodbye 2009...Hello 2010!

First let me thank all of you for your outpouring of support regarding our appointment with THE Endocrinologist. I am still preferring to think of him as a very kind, helpful doctor having a really bad day, or a really strong desire to go play in the Texas snow. Either way, I am SO over him and that awful appointment. After all, Camille doesn't allow us to focus on one issue for too long. We have since moved onto other issues.

And that brings us to my current post. A post reflecting on 2009 and thinking ahead to 2010. I know that a New Year's post would have seemingly been a lot more applicable closer to the actual turning of the New Year, but would you expect anything less than a 12-day late New Year's post from me?

To us, when we look back on 2009, we can't help but see it as a year of such loss. In a lot of ways, right or wrong, we feel like so much was taken from us. In January, we lost Jason's mom, Sharon, after a long battle with ovarian cancer. I can't tell you how difficult that was and still is. We miss her more than ever still now, and I know we will for the rest of our lives. I still tear up every time I think about her and how much I wish she were here. She would love getting to see Henry at this fun age right now, and she would be Camille's biggest cheerleader and supporter.

After we lost Sharon, I kept telling Jason that Camille's birth would be the "bright spot" that we needed in our lives right then. Of course, we had no idea during my pregnancy that Camille had special needs. I am thankful for that. I always said that I would want to know if something were "wrong" in order to prepare before the birth, but I really didn't. There's no way to prepare for something like that anyway, and I am so grateful for those months of my pregnancy where we were blissfully ignorant of what was to come.

Camille's birth brought with it such a mixture of emotions. Jason noted a few weeks after she was born that we never really got to celebrate her birth because there was so much anxiety and concern surrounding it. Again, such a feeling of loss, such a feeling of being robbed of the joy of our daughter's birth. Instead of celebrating with balloons and flowers, we spent a month driving back and forth to the NICU, each time walking in the door and wondering what the doctor was going to tell us then about what was "wrong" with our baby. I can't tell you how dark those NICU days seem to me. I can't begin to describe the feelings of despair I felt then.

There were so many things that we just had to "get over" and "work through" during that time. It was a complete change of thinking. When your child is born with special needs, you have to completely revamp your perspective, your sense of what is normal, your idea of what the future should look like. This is not a bad thing, but it is so hard.

And so the second half of 2009 continued with specialist appointments, therapy sessions, and so many unanswered questions. Then, in November, another loss came. My boss, but more than that, my mentor and friend, passed away after a long battle with breast cancer. Charlotte was so similar to Sharon in that they were both such strong, amazing people who changed so many lives. Cancer took two very special people from us in 2009.

And there it is again. That feeling of having so much taken from us. I guess it is easy to focus on that, and some days, that's all I do. But then, other days I realize that that is exactly what I should not being doing. I remind myself to look at the flip side, and see the gain among the loss. And I believe that in Christ, we can do that.

We lost Sharon and Charlotte, but they have gained eternity in heaven with the Savior who they both loved with their whole beings. I can think of no two people who deserved their place in heaven among the saints more than those two special women.

We lost our celebratory, "normal" birth of our daughter, but we gained a precious, fighter of a little girl in our Camille. To see her and who she is as a "loss" because she is different is, to me, saying that she isn't as worthy as a baby born as "typical", that she is somehow defective because she is different. I absolutely refuse to think that or let anyone else think that. It is simply not true. She is our Camille, created in the image of God, created to be exactly who she is. How can we see any loss in that?

All that to say, I have to admit that I was very much looking forward to the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010. A couple of weeks before the New Year started, I told Jason that I was so excited for January 1, 2010 because I just knew it was going to be our best year yet. A year full of answers, a year full of hope, a year full of joy! Jason looked at me, shook his head, and said, "You do realize that the turning of the New Year is really just a day that was arbitrarily picked out on the calendar. January 1 is just a day like any other."

Okay, so I had never really thought of January 1 that way. This is why he has his Ph.D. and I am only dreaming of working on mine. I refused, however, to let his very smart comment deter me. I was convinced that on January 1, all of our troubles were going to disappear.

And it really felt like 2009 was getting in a few last jabs at us when on December 31, Camille had an ultrasound to make sure that she really didn't have a tumor on her adrenal glands or ovaries (and she doesn't, by the way! Praise God!). Or when we received a phone call from the cardiologist, also on December 31, that the results of her halter monitor were in and her heart rate was indeed dropping into the low 50's, much to their surprise, and they had no idea why or what exactly that meant. I was convinced these last minute 2009 jabs were huge indications that our luck was about to change starting January 1.

Well, not really. My hubby was right as usual. January 1, 2010 dawned just like any other day, and we've already had our share of issues. Our washing machine flooded our house again, and so we have had to purchase a new one. Our dog had some sort of choking/seizure episode where I truly thought she was going to die right then, which would have prompted me to have to commit my husband considering he loves that dog more than me and the kids combined. The docs decided that Camille needs to wear an apnea monitor for a few weeks, which will cost a very pretty penny just like our shiny new washing machine. Our power went out on the coldest day of the year so far, and we had to take the kids to a hotel to spend the night because it was not fixed when the electric company said it would be. You know, typical Whitt sort of occurrences.

I guess the turning of the New Year can't rid us of our day-to-day difficulties, but we are still hopeful for a great year. After all, if we can look at 2009 and see a year of gain in so much loss, we can surely see 2010 as a good one too.

Happy New Year to you all.