Do you have a tissue?
No really, I'll wait while you go find one.
Got it? Good thinking.
Have you ever wondered what you would do, how you might react, if you ever came face to face in battle with the unknown? It's something I consider from time to time, but like most people think that the really scary stuff isn't likely to happen--to me. And maybe that's true. I try not to concentrate on it because I don't want to have unnecessary fear. Fear that I might not react the right way. Fear that I might not be able to endure. Fear that I might really be a coward.
But how many of us are already facing battles? Lost jobs, poor health, losing love? How many of us have entered the unknown and come out of it? And how many of us have learned from it and become better because of it? How many of us have fallen flat on our faces and not known where to go from there? How to stand up and try again? How many of us are letting the fear of the unknown freeze us?
Let me tell you about Jenny. Jenny moved into my neighborhood when I was just a girl. She was new, and she was the novelty, and we became quick friends. I remember adoring her for so long, and loving the time I spent with her. I still recall sleepovers, prank calls, and lots of laughing. Jenny always had a great smile and a great laugh. As we grew older we went our separate ways. Jenny had trials like anyone, some of them similar to mine, yet different. As I'd run into her mom and old friends from time to time I'd ask after her, hoping she was well. It seemed Jenny was very happy and I felt so comforted knowing that she'd gotten through a hard patch in life and moved forward.
Fast forward to a few months back when I attended a meeting where I ran into Jenny's mom. I was so excited to see Jen's little sister with a big, round belly. I was even more ecstatic to find out that Jen was due with her own little girl soon thereafter. Jen was having a baby! This was significant to me in many ways that I won't talk about here, but I will tell you that I was so happy for her. I hoped to be able to see her someday soon.
The day came for Jen to go in for her c-section. I know the nervousness and the excitement that comes along with this. I can only imagine Jen felt the same way as she went through the prep work to meet her new little girl. She was wheeled into the OR where her surgery would take place and a miracle would enter into her life. Little did she know the miracle would be much more intricate than the meeting of a new life. It would be one where a life would be saved: hers.
Jen's blood pressure dropped while she lied on that table and the doctors gave her medication to bring it back up. But when her mom came to visit her in recovery, Jen was as white as a ghost and couldn't speak. Her mom knew something was wrong and immediately called the doctor. Her quick actions led to a scan that showed a deep hemorrhage in Jen's brain. They immediately life-flighted her to another hospital where surgery was performed deep into her brain where they were able to remove the bleed.
Jen spent two months in the hosptial. Two months. Can you imagine the fear she must have felt in not being able to speak? In not being able to move half of her body at all? In not being able to mother her daughter in the way she assumed she would? Here was the battle.
I am so proud to say that my friend came face to face with one of the biggest fears you can imagine at such a young age. At such a pivotal point in her life. And she is overcoming that battle one step at a time.
I loved spending time with Jen and getting to photograph her sweet little girl. We talked and we laughed. And we laughed more. I adore Jen even more than I did when I was young, because I respect her for stepping up and moving through. And I hope that I provided something to cherish at this time in their lives, because it all really starts here.
