Friday was not a good day. After Amelia's second eye surgery, she looked fantastic. Her eyes were straight for a full six weeks. Six weeks and one day post-surgery, however? We noticed some shifting again. She was no longer always looking at us with two eyes. We tried to make excuses... hoped it would go away.
But yesterday, we went in for her 12-week post-op check.
I hid my tearful face from my daughter in the waiting room. Nine weeks prior when we scheduled this appointment, it was with joy. It was to be our final visit before she "graduated" to an annual check. It was supposed to be our last one in 2012.
Not to be. We are looking at a third surgery in late September. Third! In a span of only nine months. At age four.
I was miserable most of Friday. Thankful for a friend who got us out of the house for some kid playtime; probably the only thing that kept me sane that day. At night, I peeked in on my sleeping little sweetie and felt my heart crack. I allowed the guilt and doubt to creep in. I felt like I did not protect her.
It is now Sunday night. I have had time to recover from the shock and heartbreak. I cried on my husband's shoulder. He shared his fears and sadness, but we agreed that we would move forward together as a family. As we have done twice before.
We are pretty strong with our power of three.
The doctor did allow a twinge of hope. There is a chance, albeit a small one, that this is an anomaly in her healing. What he called "a blip on the radar." We purposefully delayed the next surgery just in case. If we have any right to a miracle, I wait hopefully for it. Trying to keep my own eyes open for a glimpse of change.
Maybe, just maybe, September's pre-op will show a change for the better. If not, we will survive.
We can do this.
