There’s a feeling every parent knows – that mix of anxiety, hope, and sadness when you leave your child at daycare or kindergarten for the first time. As I sit here, on the eve of Genesis’ surgery, that’s the closest comparison I can draw to the emotions swirling in my heart.
The past few days have been a whirlwind of memories and emotions. We’ve been trying to soak up every moment with Genesis before tomorrow’s check-in. Yesterday, our shopping adventure almost took us to the Mexican border – an accidental detour that brought laughter and lightness to our day. We couldn’t resist trying In-N-Out Burger (when in California, right?), and then we found ourselves at the breathtaking Torrey Pines Beach. The beauty of the coastline seemed to mirror the beauty of these precious moments with my daughter.
Today, we’re planning to explore more beaches, to create more memories, to capture more smiles. But beneath the joy of these adventures, there’s an undercurrent of anticipation and, yes, fear.
I want to be honest – I’m scared. I’m sad. There’s a part of me that wants to be superhuman, to be there for every moment of Genesis’ surgery. I want to be in the operating room, overseeing every detail, making sure she’s put to sleep gently and woken just as carefully. I long to be the first face she sees when she opens her eyes.
But I can’t. And that loss of control is perhaps the hardest part of this journey.
Tears come unbidden, and I find myself hiding them from Genesis. I don’t want her to see my fear, to let it taint her own courage. She’s been so strong, so resilient throughout this entire process. Her bravery puts mine to shame.
When people ask how I’m doing, I struggle to find the words. How can I articulate this complex tapestry of emotions? Gratitude for each moment, fear for the future, hope for healing, sadness for the pain she must endure – they’re all interwoven in my heart.
In these moments, I’m acutely aware of life’s beauty and its fragility. It’s experiences like these that led me to my purpose, that pushed me to start a nonprofit. They’ve taught me to let go of the fear of others’ opinions and to boldly pursue my dreams.
As we inch closer to the day when Genesis will finally be free from this illness, I find myself surrendering it all to the One who loves her even more than I do. It’s a hard thing for a mother to admit – that there’s a love greater than hers for her child. But it’s in that knowledge that I find peace.
To all the parents out there facing medical challenges with their children – I see you. I feel your pain, your hope, your love. We’re in this together.
And to Genesis – my brave, beautiful girl. You are loved beyond measure. Your strength inspires me every day. Tomorrow is just the beginning of your healthier, brighter future.
With a heart full of love, hope, and yes, a little fear,
Rachel
