Your Heart is Good. Very Good.

When you sleep, Peter, your dad and I stay up and look at pictures of you. 

We are so in love with these pictures that we start to miss you very much. We want to see your goofy faces and hear your animated reactions and sounds. We want to snuggle you and wrestle you and tickle you. Part of me wants to creep into your bedroom and wake you up just so I can hang out with you some more. 

We do this every night. Just thought you should know.

Amazing picture by Christine Olson

Today was a big day for our family. 

Today we put the heart failure behind us. For good. 

I'm so happy we had our family pictures done today, because it really will help us always remember the wonderful news we received. It's overwhelming to be so blessed, and we are grateful for all the Lord has given our family. A great life, a beautiful plan, a wonderful home, a happy family, and now a healthy heart. It's a blessing to know that we can keep moving forward and look back with gratitude, knowing in our own ways how far we've come. 

 My favorite little note from "Peter" (sneakily arranged by my dad): 

  Dear Mom, I've always known your heart is good. Very good. I love you, Peter

I remember thinking the silliest thoughts in the hospital. I remember being so worried that Peter wouldn't feel safe with me or recognize me because he wouldn't recognize my weak and arrhythmic heart beat when I tried to hold him. He knows that heart beat. He's the only one who knows it from inside me. I used to think things like that mattered. Walking into that hospital again today, I felt exhilarated. I stood in the elevator, remembering experiences I had on each floor as the elevator climbed them. I looked up at my reflection in the mirrors on the ceiling. 

I never understood why there were mirrors on the ceiling. I wonder if anybody else ever really notices them if they're not in a bed or a chair. I have seen myself in those mirrors as a pregnant Lindsey, about to deliver her new son on her way to the fourth floor. I have seen a eager and anxious Lindsey, perched in her hospital bed as she moved from the ICU to the third floor for her last stretch of her hospital stay. I have seen discharged Lindsey, sitting in her wheelchair, staring up at her own reflection, wondering what happens next and how she'll ever be enough for everything ahead. I didn't recognize myself then, pale and swollen. And I have seen recovering Lindsey, able to cross heart failure off the list and take one more step towards tossing that list behind her.  

I am so grateful for the love and support (both on earth and above) that continuously lifts me higher, happier, and healthier. 

I am blessed. I know it -and I feel it- nearly every instant.