Yesterday my heart ached for so many reasons. I was having tremendous difficulty wrapping my mind around everything that seemed to be culminating in what I felt like was a showdown between traditional approaches to orthopedic issues and the Ponseti Method. And I felt, as I have several times before, like Laura was in the middle, being pulled in two different directions. I didn't see a happy ending and I certainly couldn't see what good might come of everything we'd been through and sleep was elusive once again.
As I was dressing Laura for bed, it occurred to me to dig out her old Mitchell shoes and bar to see if they still fit by any stretch. Her smaller foot, the one with the higher arch and 'slight cavus' according to Dr. Ponseti, fit okay. Her slightly larger foot had some tootsies hanging over the edge but I figured that foot didn't matter nearly as much so we'd go with them until we had a change to order a new pair.
Laura was hesitant. Initially, I think she wasn't sure at all that I was doing anything that might remotely fall in the "I'm doing this because I love you" category but she watched silently as I made her bar a bit bigger and placed her feet in the shoes. Then Daddy arrived. He quietly got down on his knee and softly explained that her foot needed a little help and the shoes would help her walk better. She smiled a wee bit, shook her head in agreement and that was it. She was fine.
When we put her in the crib, she actually made a game out of trying to walk in them. We carried on about the new "boarder" in the family, and Matthew told her that what she was doing was called 'the Moon Walk'. They laughed and had a good time pretending together. We prayed, kissed goodnight, and did our usual "I love you" thing as we quietly closed the door. And secretly I prepared for a rough night as Laura got used to her shoes again, possibly needing to be recasted in order to fully correct her feet before putting them back in her shoes.
When I woke up at 5:20 to the sounds of Don getting ready for work, I realized she's slept through the night without a peep. Not a whimper. When she finally woke up, it was because she was hungry, not because her feet were bothering her. She sat with me for awhile in my bed and didn't ask to have them taken off. She was content.
I finally took them off, got her dressed for the day, sent her off to get the boys up. I realized as she walked away that there was no limp. No evidence of her being hesitant to walk. No difficulty with what the Dr called her soft tissue injury last week. Nothing. She was fine. Now she's happily playing, having asked for her SMO's to be put on.
I am feeling quite loved at the moment. As if the Lord wrapped his arms around me and said "my child, it is going to be okay. I am in charge. Just keep your eyes on me and we'll go down the road together." The anxiety I felt yesterday about putting her back in shoes has vanished. The stress of possibly having to pay for a trip to Iowa seems to be shrinking each time I think about it. And I know that the Lord will provide for the new pair of shoes and bar that we will be ordering this week. It is as if, through the night, he set everything on the right path. And instead of feeling stress, I'm looking forward to seeing how he does it all. Healing is no longer something vague. I'm beginning to believe it can happen.
Faith the size of a mustard seed... I think I can manage that. :)