Helpless

Tonight I feel helpless.  There's really nothing I hate more than feeling helpless.  I don't do well when things are out of my control.  I've learned how to cope with things that I absolutely can't control and to reign in the pieces of my surroundings or circumstances that can to make myself feel less helpless.  Often though it only serves to slightly reduce my anxiety and doesn't completely eliminate it.

For example, I know that my career path is one where things constantly are in motion and change is just a part of every day.  I've had to learn to live with the fact that the rules fluctuate and what may be the end all be all in one hour can flip 180 degrees by the next which may or may not require me to completely redo what I'd spent the prior 4 hours working on.  I've learned that I can control aspects of my work which makes the inner fluctuations more bearable.  I like my cube stagnant.  I line up my pictures in a specific place on my shelf.  I keep my emails in little subfolders.  I have a routine in the morning of what I work on first always. 

Today, Alanna had her follow-up appointment with Dr. Wood.  We've known for six and a half years (ever since we talked through my ultrasound results when I was pregnant) that there was a very good chance she'd need surgery.  Today was the day Dr. Wood said it was time.  I think I'd spent so long convincing myself and her that her birthmark was just a "special bump" and that it was just fine that it was hard to allow myself to believe today that indeed it's grown and changed.  

I'm faced with accepting that surgery is our next step and convincing myself as I reassure Alanna that everything is going to be just fine and that this is the best course of action.  I know that in the grand scheme of things that my daughter is a beautiful, smart, wonderful little girl and we are very blessed that she is healthy and happy overall.  That there are children out there who are on transplant waiting lists and/or have terminal illnesses and my daughter's venous malformation is not life-threatening.  I know that her MRI showed a long time ago that she was a good candidate for surgery, that the lesion is not deep and very contained.  

I'm very very VERY good with facts.  What I'm having trouble with is that helpless emotion I can't control.  I've done all my research through the years.  I know we have an excellent surgeon.  I've gotten a second opinion from a highly respected panel of doctors at Boston Children's Hospital.  I've combed the web and been vigilant about keeping myself informed.

Even today I tried to maintain the things I could control.  I checked with insurance, I notified the grandparents of what was going on, I wrote a note to Alanna's teacher and prepared a letter to send to school to help answer questions.  

It's not enough though and I'm all out of sorts.  I'm only out of sorts by myself though as it's far more important to be together, reassuring, confidant and strong so that Alanna can see that. She's so mature about it all and is asking questions, but absorbing the answers very matter of factly.  

I don't even know if anything I've typed has been coherent so I apologize if I'm rambling.  I'm tired, moody, and trying to vomit words onto the page to help myself move forward.