This journey that we are on fills our life with days of extreme contrasts. There are days that are so normal, so perfectly ordinary, that one could forget. We don't- but we could. Then there are days that we are reminded of how fragile our daughter's life is, and they are anything but ordinary. We often have to go from one adrenaline rushed moment to the next, with often just a few seconds in between.
A great example of this would be last night. Tehilla was all tucked into bed and should have been sleeping. Instead she was reading books and wrapping all of her little dollies in blankets. I was downstairs working, when I heard her little high pitch voice shout down, "Ima, come! Come here, Ima! I don't feel well. My chest hurts." Is bolted the right word? Maybe "ran like a lunatic, taking three stairs at a time" is more precise...
In any event, I achieved a world record of heart palpitations and speed racing and rushed into her room and calmly said, "Your chest hurts? Where? Show me."
To which she pointed to her lower stomach. "Your tummy? That's your tummy. Does your tummy hurt or your chest?"
She giggled and said, "Oh yeah! My tummy. Silly, Lulu. Not my chest! My tummy!"
Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. Let heart rate return to normal. Stop mentally preparing a hospital bag. Deep breaths.
"So, your tummy hurts. Is it because you ate your sufganiya (donut) too fast? Or because you took some of Tzviel's candy from his birthday baggy?"
This juxtaposition is our normal and is probably what made me so teary eyed at Tehilla's school Chanukah party. There she was- in her floofy yellow dress that she insists on wearing constantly, with her little black shoes with kitties on them, singing songs with her friends about miracles. Our healthy little miracle singing about miracles.
Thank G-d for our little sweet miracle.