Thursday, February 6, 2014

You Take the Good...You Take the Bad

Part One

A battle for both of us.

While Aviana was here, Google became my best and worst friend. We developed a relationship, which as time went on, progressively turned toxic. Many times, I tried to shake him, but his pull was strong - especially in the wee hours of morning. The breeding ground was best when the house was quiet, and the mind was in rapid fire.

After the accident it was all about the brain, therapy, and recovery. That was all fine and healthy. The tides began to turn when we were progressing the best we could, but Aviana was not. 

Never before had I any sort of medical worries. Things had gone wrong in the past, but never did I give them too much thought. I took things for what they were, and moved forward. Never once did I worry excessively. Moreover, never once did I worry about something which had yet to happen. I've talked on here about an acquired fear I noticed early on - the fear of cancer. In it crept. "Welcome to the land of borrowed trepidation. We're glad you could join our 1-4am session. Please, enjoy your stay." It started off slow, in the corners of my mind. 

My counselor asked, "why cancer of all things?" My answer was simple - I can't fight one more thing. Right now, I'm in the battle of my life. I have to be here for her! There's not enough of me to be in two places at once. I can't possibly fight for Aviana and battle something of my own! 

Beginning of the end.

We eventually stopped Aviana's program. We were at one of our lowest points. We knew if we ever reached this point, we were going to let Aviana go should something come along and take her. That was a hard realization; to know something so deep and true within our hearts, but to then find a way to live every day.

We realized how important it was to appreciate every moment, as our time could be short? We learned to accept and love Aviana for exactly who she was, until. The pain in between though - in knowing, and waiting - it was like slowly spinning that metal arm of a Jack in the Box, you never quite knew which crank would make him pop out at you. It was downright difficult, because sometimes, you wanted to wind that arm around like crazy, and didn't want to touch it.

Everyone saw it, but especially those who knew Aviana before. And the truth was, once you knew, there was no eraser big enough to wipe away the writing on the wall. Because our hands were tied (or so we thought) we all coped and made the best for a few reasons: Aviana deserved our best, and what else could we do? We all felt pain in seeing her, but we knew it had the power to devour and destroy, so we tried to kept it at bay. Everyday was it's own kind of beautiful struggle. 

The conflict could be mind bending. I've had migraines since the age of 18, and at this time, they were more frequent. For over 7 years my doctors had been suggesting daily medication, I didn't want any part. I'd finally had it and began ramping up to find the right dose. I was to use the medication in conjunction with my onset injections. 

Aviana was getting worse, and in some respects - so was I. On the outside I seemed okay, but as I sat home with her all day, things started to escalate a little. I loved her so much, but it was definitely not healthy to watch her continue on in this life. It's one thing if you know this is the life for your child, but it's a whole other when you know deep in your momma heart that it's just not right.

To be continued...


  1. Sad to read, but makes me realize how strong you really are. Part 2 will mean you are even stronger, and more accepting of your life. I can only being to try and imagine how you must feel, but I am so honored you continue to let us try by being so honest!

  2. Beautifully written, my friend.....i think and pray for you daily.

    1. Oh Isabel...thank you so much for always being here - thinking and praying for us. I so appreciate you ❤

  3. I have to say this might sound crazy because I have never met Aviana but I have been so upset since I have read of her passing. I have thought of it all night and now all morning. I find myself missing her. I know I should be brining you comfort but I have to say Jen you have brought me comfort. I read back this morning on some old posts and I never realized she was having seizures all day long or that she needed more surgeries and that she was in liver failure. It made me realize that this was the best thing for her. Maybe I feel a bond because I too adopted a little girl from Guatemala. I hope you keep the blog going so I can still read about your family and I can still hear all your memories of Aviana. Mindy

    1. Hi Mindy ~

      Thank you for everything you wrote, on both comments. I truly appreciate your words, and no...none sound crazy. In my opinion, quite the opposite. You sound like a sweet, caring, compassionate person.

      Thank you so very much for being here, and for caring so much about Aviana. It means more to me than I can tell you.



      P.S. I picture your daughter and I bet our two share similar features. I love how all our children have such a beautiful look. I do miss that look, but just as we've both written...I am happy with the decision to set Aviana free...

  4. Thank you Jen and you are right they have a beautiful look. I will continue to look forward to visiting your blog.