God's Plan

Last January, we listened to our preacher preach a sermon on following God's path and how he teaches you to obey him and follow his plan. To be honest, I was half listening and half mentally making my grocery list (yes, ADHD at it's finest). I remember him saying "You may not agree with the path God chooses but it is all for a reason". Well, the following Monday, we found out Weston would have open heart surgery. That night, we decided to stop "not trying" for a baby because I didn't want to be pregnant while Weston had surgery. Clearly, our plans were not God's because I found out I was pregnant the next day. I feel like we have taken most of the things from the past year in stride-praying and knowing that God knows the bigger picture. We have been tested in every way imaginable this year-we went on a very massive, world wide hunt for a surgeon who would even agree to take Weston on as a patient. We constantly heard doctors tell us that they thought Weston would die on the operating table, he was too risky to operate on, and that he shouldn't even be alive after what he was born with. Those kinds of things are devistating. You never want to hear someone tell you any of those things about your baby! Yesterday, when the cardiologist called to tell me Weston now has electrical problems with his heart and will need another surgery, my heart just sank. Seriously? He is 4 years old-he has had 3 open heart surgeries, multiple caths, and everything seems to be a struggle. It would be a lie if I told you that I am not angry. I am angry at God. I can't help but be angry. I want Weston to have a good life-not one filled with pain, medicine, and doctors appointments. I try to find peace that God really does have a plan-but it is awfully hard when I am holding down our now, 4 year old son for his zillionth blood test or for a giant IV or fighting with him to keep his oxygen on. Then, I feel terrible because there are children worse off than Weston and feel guilty because I should feel blessed that he has such a great medical team. I am tired of holding Weston down, tired of seeing him in pain, tired of yelling at dumb residents who ask me stupid questions (yes, there are stupid questions), tired of trying to break him out of hospitals, tired of holding him tight when he has ICU psychosis, tired to sleeping on a hard couch, tired of sleeping in a chair, tired of being awoke every 5 seconds by someone needing something, tired of hospital food, just plain tired of it all. When is it going to end? Is this how our poor babies life is going to be forever??? So tonight, I am trying to turn my feelings over to God and hope he can give me great comfort, strength, and wisdom.