Needed Miracles

It's been almost four years.  I still remember the day like it was yesterday.  I remember the events leading up to this day.  The frustration and fear.  The shock and concern.  Then I remember learning the truth.  The cause of all the previous events.  I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach.  I remember my hands shaking, my mind racing and my heart beating so fast I wasn't sure I could breath.  I remember calling Michael at work and telling him.  I remember seeing him drive up the driveway and bursting into tears.  I remember the drive to Sioux Falls to talk to a trusted friend.  I remember being present yet feeling like I was having an out of body experience.  I remember the pain, the betrayal, the hurt, the confusion, the loss.  I remember the days after that.  And the nights.  Six months of pain and anguish.  Six months of sleepless nights filled with images and words that I could not get out of my mind.  Six months of watching some one I loved, some one I was supposed to take care of, not respond and not get better.  I remember having to make that hard decision to reach out and get the help I could not give.  I remember.  I breaking inside knowing that it was going to get worse before it got better.  I remember walking around feeling like something was wrong with me because of the trauma we were experiencing, like I was no longer good enough or worthy enough.

I remember stepping foot inside the facility that we had chosen to help our child.  I remember hating it and wishing that I didn't have to be there.  I remember wondering how I could send my child there, yet knowing that I had no other choice. I remember the car ride home.  The pain.  The tears.  And now the secret.  The secret of the decision we had made.  We couldn't tell her.  I remember feeling so bad as I went to the store to buy the things that she would need, knowing that when she found out she would feel betrayed and hurt and frightened.  The days were so painful and long.  The nights even worse.  So many tears were shed.

The day finally came.  I had to start the day off with a lie to keep her home from school.  I was shaking and frightened and emotional.  Michael stayed home from work that day.  We had to lie about that too.  We sent the other kids to school.  Then we sat her down.  She knew right away that something was wrong.  We tried to calmly talk to her and explain what was happening.  As soon as she heard she started sobbing.  Hard, full body sobs.  I had to detach myself.  I couldn't handle the pain.  We took her upstairs with a list of things she needed to pack.  She cried while she packed.  I tried to help but felt like a jerk.  Why would she want my help packing when I was the one sending her to a place that she didn't want to go?  I felt like I had betrayed her.  I was mad at myself for not being able to protect her, help her and heal her.  Where had I gone wrong?  How could I have missed this?  How could I have let her fall into harm's way?  And now, because I lacked something somewhere, I had to send her to someone else and trust that they would care for her and help her.  As a mother, it was one of the worst feelings in the world.  I was a stay at home mom until all my kids were school age.  No one had ever had to take care of my kids.  It was me (and my husband).  Now I was handing that over to strangers.  And it was hard.  Harder than I could have ever imagined.

It was a two hour drive.  But it seemed like it was much longer.  We took her in, filled out papers, hugged her and then walked away as she sobbed.  Oh my heart.  I can still see it all so clear in my mind and I can still feel the horrible ache as we walked away.  It still makes me sick to my stomach.  However, the day wasn't over yet.  We still had to go home and explain to the other children what had happened.  The drive home was filled with dread and sadness.

The kids could tell as soon as they walked in that something was not right.  We sat them down and began to tell them.  Their faces were shocked and filled with confusion and sadness.  It is something that will forever be burned in my mind.  More tears, questions and heartache followed.  It was just the beginning.  It was a Friday so they had the weekend to try to process things before they went back to school and faced friends, teachers and peers.

Monday came with dread and pain.  I, too, had to go to school.  I emailed all the teachers to let them know that my child would no longer be attending their class.  I turned in her basketball uniform and broke down and sobbed as I handed it to her coach.  Many times I shut myself in the library (I was the librarian) and cried.  I just didn't know how to process all the pain I was feeling.  I walked around in a fog.  I went through the motions but my heart was not there.  My mind constantly raced, filled with what if's and why's and if only's.  The days were a blur of emotions.  I tried to be present because I knew that my family needed me to be but somedays it just wasn't possible.  I would walk past her bedroom and see her empty bed and my eyes would fill with tears.  I would have people ask questions about her and even though they were being kind, it would hurt.  We had one empty place at the table, not enough kids in the back to school pictures and an empty seat in the car.  Everything reminded me that we were not complete.

That next weekend we took the kids to see her.  They had not gotten to say goodbye.  We only got to spend a couple of hours there.  It was awkward and hard.  No one really knew what to say.  When the time came to leave, the tears started to flow.  My heart was breaking even more.  We said our goodbyes and left her standing there again, tears streaming down her face and the faces of my children.  I made the mistake of turning and looking back at her as the doors closed.  I can't explain exactly how I felt but I felt something physically break inside of me.  Something way down deep.  Something that still brings tears to my eyes and pain to my heart when I think about it.  I did not know a person could feel so much pain and still be alive.  It was unbearable.  Incomprehensible.

We weren't allowed to go visit for a little while after that.  It was part of the program.  She needed to time to get adjusted.  We got ten minute phone calls twice a week.  Some days they were good.  Other days they were not.  Over time we got to go visit again.  First we had to stay there and could only visit for two hours.  Then we got to go outside as long as we stayed on the property.  Then we got to leave the facility as long as we stayed in town and we could have her for longer than two hours.  Then we could keep her for an entire day and we could leave town but we could not take her home.  After nine months she was able to come home for home visits.  We got her at Thanksgiving and again at Christmas.  She was able to stay for three days before we had to send her back.  Those days were wonderful.  After 11 months of intense therapy she was able to come home for good.  I can not even begin to tell you how excited we were to be a while family again!  It was amazing.

During this time, I often wished and prayed for peace, for miracles, for the ability to forgive and for justice to be brought to the person that hurt her.  I prayed for miracles.  For my mind to be erased, for the pain to go away, for none of this to have ever happened.  I would try to watch motivational stories about people who had their lives turned upside down but were filled with peace and comfort and love.  They only made me feel worse because I was not feeling those things.  I thought something was wrong with me because I was not receiving this miraculous healing like they had.  It added to my guilt and my feelings of inadequacy.  It added to my pain.  I kept going to church as much as I could.  There were days I couldn't though.  I didn't have the strength to.  I couldn't go to a place where forgiveness and peace and healing were taught when I was not able to experience any of these things.  I tried to read my scriptures and do what I was supposed to do.  It was hard though.  And through it all, the miracles I was seeking and hoping for did not come.

Lately, with all this corona stuff going on, I have seen stories and messages of people struggling and needing miracles right now.  I have seen stories of people sharing miracles and life changing blessings as they have struggled with this or other things in their life.  It has brought this experience of mine back to thoughts and focus.  And I can see the miracles.  Not the ones I wanted, but the ones I needed.

Like, the fact that we discovered what was wrong in the first place.  Help from our friend who led us to the facility.  Immediate openings in that facility when there was usually a long wait list.  Being able to get all the paperwork and signatures in quickly so she could be admitted.  Having a therapist there that emphasized my daughter's need to turn to Christ to help with the healing.  Strength to get through each day even though it wasn't always graceful or pleasant or even wanted.  Support from family and friends that always loved no matter what.  A husband who loved me through all of this.  Siblings who stood up and supported me and my family.  A job that allowed me to take time off to see her when we were able.

There were so many things, little things, that needed to happen, that couldn't have happened without divine help, in order to get the needed help for her.  These are things that we could not have done on our own.  Whether that help came in the form of a friend with contacts or a heart softened to see the need or even just a hug in a hard moment, they came.  And I know that they came because we were being watched over.  I know they came because we have a Heavenly Father who loves us and knows us personally.  I know that we have a Savior who has already felt and suffered the pains that we felt and suffered during that time and because of that, He knew how to succor us.  He knew what we needed.  It wasn't what I hoped for, but it was what I needed.

As I see and read the stories right now, I know that we are still all being watched over.  Times may be hard, we may suffer, we may not see the miracles that we want.  But we will not be left alone.  The miracles that we need will be there for us.  We just need to keep moving forward to the best of our ability and keep our hand reaching out to the Lord.  He knows us.  He loves us.  He has promised that He will never forsake us.  Trust.  Believe.  Continue on.