Serious Confetti

Last night, I spent some time next to my forever friend Danae.  We sat on wooden bleachers watching her two biggest littles do their gymnastic thing.  There's something about forever friends.  They just know.  They know when the other one is hurting or stressing or feeling off.  Last night, as I sat there sipping my unsweetened iced tea blabbing about things that don't matter, I felt it.  A sense washed over me and I knew my friend who has been there for me every single time I have ever needed her...needed me.  I knew she was tilting off kilter. 

At first, we kept on with the small talk.  The whole time, my wheels spinning about what could be making my friend off and spinning about how to help get to it.  Pretty soon, while watching Emma Bean yell and jump in the castle and be the vivacious spunky sassy two year old she is, it hit me.  I turned to Danae, "Are you starting to feel stressed about her surgeries?"

It was as if the green light had been given.  The green light of I'm your friend and I am feeling what you are feeling.  The green light of let me hear it girl.   

"Yes.  I'm freaking out.  I just want to make sure I do the right thing and I say the right thing and I am the right thing for her at every step along the way of this.  I don't know if I am going to do this right."

There it was.  And it needed out.  

She started to tear up and like all of us girls tend to do, immediately apologized for those tears.  I cut her off, "Cry.  Feel what you are feeling."

And then we kept talking about the logistics of the surgeries and the trips and the after effects and I put the dates in my calendar.  Sure, they aren't technically "my" dates.  But yet, they are.  It matters to me.  It matters to me that that little girl who comes running up to me every single time I see her with a huge smile and an excited scream, "Amy!!!!!" is going to face years of surgeries and not fun things.  It matters to me that the little girl who says things like, "Amy, I love your bracelets!" is going to face years of wondering why.  It matters to me that the little girl who I love like I imagine I would love my own is going to hurt.

It matters to me that my friends are going to be those parents.  The parents who have to be strong even when they don't want to be.  It matters to me that my friends are going to have an ever constant itching wondering if they are tackling it right.  

What I want to say to them is this.  You are handling it right.  You will always handle it right.  Because you are her mom and her dad and you love her more than you love the air you breathe.  You will rise to this and there will be silver linings along with the clouds.  You will find a way to embrace those silver linings and show them to your daughter with your own actions.  What I want to say to them is this.  You got this.  You really do.

In the middle of the comings and goings of the next month for them, Emma Bean's third birthday will arrive.  After we talked about the yuck feelings, Danae continued on about trying to figure out when to have the party and how to fit it all in. 

"I'm going to plan the party.  You know how I feel about birthday parties.  Let me do this."

She looked at me and didn't even need to say yes because I knew.  That forever friend feeling washed over me and I knew I would be doing to the birthday party.  So I kept going, "Confetti!!!  I want to do a confetti theme.  I already have some ideas.  Watercolor confetti and there's this tablecloth I want to make and I'll sew her a shirt with circles of confetti fabric on it and and and and..."

We kept thinking and brainstorming and coming up with confetti plans.  Tutu plans.  Cake plans.  Invitation plans.  We laughed.  Hands were clapped together in excitement.

I added in, "How about I have it at my house?  Then you don't have to worry about cleaning or getting ready or anything.  You guys can just show up and we'll have a party!  And of course I'll take a ton of pictures."

"I love that.  I love the pictures.  And that'd be awesome to have it there.  Thank you."  A small glimmer of relief.  A sense washed over me and I felt it.  I felt a tiny fractional feeling of relief coming from my friend who I love like my own left arm.  Love like a sister.    

I can't take away the fact that Emma Bean was born with a mark.  I can't take away the fact she will have surgeries for years to come.  I can't take away that my forever friends will be the parents who spend enough hours to accumulate to days sitting in waiting rooms.  I can't take away any of that.  But what I can do is plan and throw a birthday party.

I can also ask that each and every one of you think of this little girl in the next month.  Think of her and spunky pigtails and do some praying.  Pray for successful surgeries and healthy healing for her tiny bum and back.  Pray for her parents.  Pray they will feel a peace about how they do this.  Pray they will know, feel it in their hearts know...they got this.