I pivoted away from her...and she fell.
I didn't even see how she hit the floor.
She was so small and naked, and all I could do I scoop up her crying body and bring her to mine.
It was a few minutes before I took a breath as she nursed and I examined her body..... She looked fine.
I was not.
I am not writing about an incident from yesterday...or even last week. It has been over a month since this happened... I hadn't written- posted- shared..... I didn't sit down to write. I didn't even post an update to ask for prayer. I didn't share much at all...and I am a sharer.
When we first heard of Branson's diagnosis, I shared what was happening to us. I asked for prayer. I asked you to rally for her... for me. When we lost her, I asked for prayer for myself, my children, my husband. When we announced we were pregnant with Vivi, all I wanted from you was prayer....prayer for the innocent- prayer for those enduring the circumstance of God's will.
Yet, here is my baby in hospital overnight with a skull fracture....and I am silent.
Why. Because it was my fault. Because I was embarrassed and ashamed. Because I wanted no advice, condemnation or excuse. I couldn't bear the thought of someone trying to make me feel better by telling me that "things happen" or "we aren't perfect". I didn't want to admit that I had turned my eyes from my baby and that she had fallen. No facebook posts this time. I wanted it all to go away.
So, why post now?
Because otherwise I am a fraud.
Because if I don't share it all then I'm not authentic....and I have been called to be authentic...and I will continue to pour it out even when the water isn't crystal clear...for it is in the murky and muddy water that I again find my Savior...the one who cleanses and cradles me.
