Bittersweet

I've never had more emotions about an inanimate object than I've had for this ventilator.  There have been times where I've looked at it and cried, thanking God for helping the man who invented such a miracle machine.  Times where I was excited, knowing that this would be our key to living at HOME.  Together.  I've daydreamed about smashing it to tiny little pieces like they do in the movie, Office Space.  The purest of anger and frustration, never a "why-me", but more of a "IneedtowalkawayorI'mgoingtolosemymind."  Annoyance, as Joel's bedroom, aka, the family room, is directly at the bottom of our stairwell.....and all of the middle-of-the-night alarms echo directly to my bedroom.  Depression.  There is no getting around the fact that having a child on a ventilator means your life is different.  In ways that suck.  Proud, because I feel like God's taken this situation and helped me grow in ways I didn't think I was ready or mature enough for.

The time is near for the ventilator to become "for emergencies only."  It will belong in another category, and that means, that Joel's getting better.  He's getting stronger, and we're one step closer to our freedom.  We're almost one step closer to everything.  Everything.  Our appointment with Dr. Ricker is on February 3rd, when, if all goes as planned, we'll stop the ventilator completely.  Please lift this situation up in prayer.  Of course I want the vent gone.  But I DO want the vent gone when the timing is right.  Lift the vent too soon, and voila, we have ourselves a weak baby.  Don't want that.  Plus, Joel would be perfectly happy keeping the vent.  It's a perfect teether. :)

Can you tell he's tired?  :)  Not tracking so well, buddy.  It's time for bed!