Abigail, I am so proud of you. Today. You were very brave, I said on the way to get lunch.
Yes, but I wasn't brave when they did that formula.
Oh, Abigail, why do you think you weren't brave? I asked kinda stunned.
Well, when they put that tube in me. I screamed and screamed.
This mama's heart hurt for her girl. I was there when they did the test. Every minute of her bravery.
The way she changed into a teddy bear gown with little more than a nervous I don't want to change clothes. The way she walked into the exam room holding my hand being less than a step behind me. The way she listened to the technicians. The way she sat on the table. Written in her eyes was her fear. It lived in her voice when she answered the questions meant to relieve her worry, questions about her big black dog and little brother. The way she tried to stop crying, obliging the doctor who was filling her bladder with contrast to take pictures. The way she obeyed holding in every urge her body had to relieve itself of this foreign liquid. I was there when she was released from the table. When she laughed nervously as she was getting dressed. I could hear the relief when she said thank you for the treat bag.
I knew her bravery. But she didn't believe it. Mommy was obviously not paying attention, I screamed and screamed.
But I did know it. Remember I was there. I saw the big picture.
I explained: Abigail, being brave doesn't mean that you aren't afraid or that something doesn't hurt. Being brave is doing what is right and good anyway. You were afraid and that procedure hurt, but you didn't through a temper tantrum, and you didn't get mean. You were brave because you did what was right even though you were scared and hurt.
Her dad asked how it all went. I said she did well. She said the day went well, but she wasn't brave. I wanted to shake her till she believed me.
And then I remembered that her condition was inherited. How many times does He or he speak pride and courage into my life and I argue. I pick the ugly part without giving a second thought to the noble or beautiful. I argue with His assessment; He sees the grand picture. I argue with his assessment; he knows what he doesn't worry about because of my presence in his life. And I wonder why I struggle with insecurity. I wonder to if it hurts His heart and his heart when I don't believe them like it hurt mine when she rejected my assessment of her performance.
I have to smile at His way of teaching me using her.
I will update you on the rest of the day. Abigail went for the VCUG to see if she has kidney reflux. She doesn't. She has stool packed through her large intestines. Yes, that is yuck. She had an ultrasound to see if her previous UTI's with horrendous temperatures caused any kidney damage. They haven't. He protected her to His glory. She is taking now not only a laxative but also a stool softener. It is all about the training, now. Go when you need to. Don't hold it! Time to go potty. Haven't I been saying these things for two years now?