This past Sunday, I was scheduled to leave for 6 days to participate in a retreat called “Breakthrough,” where attendees are guided through 5 days of sequential steps aimed at bringing us into new levels of awareness about ourselves and the Truth of who we are (Divinity Incarnate!), and to vision a future for ourselves that we would love to bring into our reality. I have attended this event before and it’s life-changing. I was so excited to go again – visiting with friends I’ve made on this journey at past events, staying in a beautiful hotel in the Sonoran Desert, and doing the kind of work on myself that shifts everything in my life for the better.
I had arranged extra nursing care for Kennedy, packed for the trip, left detailed instructions for the house, animals, etc., and set out the daily “I miss you” gifts I leave for my kids when I travel. But in the 16 hours prior to the trip, everything shifted.
In the 12 days prior, Kennedy had been navigating an issue that we had been unable to resolve at home, and it was rapidly becoming more serious as my departure date approached. She was not sick, but it was becoming clear that she needed to be evaluated to determine whether hospital-level medical intervention and monitoring were necessary.
So, Saturday afternoon, we headed to the ER at the local children’s hospital. After many hours there, and a couple of telling diagnostic tests, they told us she needed to be admitted to the pediatric ICU for treatment. Because the ICU was full at our regular hospital, they transferred us to the hospital 40 miles south of our house – which meant a midnight ride in the transport ambulance.
I was grateful that she was getting care under the watchful eye of the Peds ICU staff and that they were clear on the plan of action. I knew this hospital admission – the first in YEARS – meant I was not going to arrive at my event on Sunday (the day before it was set to start), but I held out hope that I could arrive late Monday night and just miss the first day. The doctor who advised us to go the ER in the first place had said that it was possible she could be released in as little as 48 hours, so … hey, a girl could dream.
While I envisioned myself being able to simply arrive a day late, I endeavored to simply flow with what was happening. I’ve learned there’s no point in resisting something you can’t change. It’s just wasted energy. But, at the same time, a part of me went ahead and wasted some energy kicking myself for not being more aggressive navigating this issue at home – “if only I had x, y, z, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.” I knew, though, that our efforts at home when previously dealing with this issue had always, ultimately, been successful, so I had no reason to assume this time would be different. It just was. And regret wasn’t going to get me anywhere.
A 48-hour hospital stay isn’t how it played out. The treatment wasn’t getting us any results for the first 10 hours or so, then everything happened so fast, they decided she needed a break as they didn’t want to overwhelm her overwrought system. The treatment was affecting her electrolytes, so with every lab they drew, she needed one or more replacement infusion, which took hours to run. The x-ray didn’t show the improvement they wanted after the first day, so we just kept plugging away. Every kid is different, they said.
Ultimately, Kennedy was released late Tuesday afternoon. We haven’t been in the hospital with Kennedy in so long, I forgot the feeling when you finally get home from a multi-day stay in the Peds ICU. You unpack everything you collected at the hospital, pick up the new prescriptions, get organized for the “post-hospitalization” treatment plan, start a load of laundry, shower your kid, shower yourself, and get your house somewhat in order again – hopefully before the adrenaline that was fueling you in the hospital completely evaporates and you feel exhausted in ways you didn’t know you could feel exhausted. I didn’t have time for everything on the “to do” list. It took about 30 minutes for that adrenaline to fade into nothingness once we got home. I did what I knew had to be done and left the rest for another day.
In the end, I didn’t go to Arizona at all. Although I knew Kennedy would be in capable hands with her care team at home upon discharge, I didn’t feel right about leaving, and I knew I wouldn’t really be able to be present at the retreat. I juggled a mix of emotions around this –but here’s what was different about this from where I sit today: not attending the retreat didn’t happen to me — I made a conscious choice to stay home. And that perspective is empowering.
Wednesday morning, after a solid night’s sleep (Dad watched Kennedy Tuesday night), I decided to take myself to the beach to recalibrate. It wasn’t the Arizona trip I had planned for that week, but standing in the sun as the waves lapped cold water onto my legs was still grounding. I was right where I belonged this week, and all was well.
I’ve come to understand something on this journey, which I am aligning with now: there is a seed of an equal or greater good in every challenge. Sometimes, we don’t know what that good is when we’re in the thick of it. But we can choose to stay open to it; we can invite it to reveal itself to us; we can know it’s there even if we don’t know what it is yet. And so, I stay open to the seed of good that comes from me not attending my much-awaited trip. I’ll update this article when it becomes clear to me. In the meantime, I’m grateful my daughter is home and well, and I’m grateful for all the support we received these past few days.
