On Dancing: A Titus Update
When I last updated here about Titus, my heart was churned up like the inside of a wave, and I thought we were rolling into some awful news. We went for a sweat test for which Titus didn’t sweat, so my 7 hours of driving that day had felt so wasted. I had overwhelming fear that Titus had Cystic Fibrosis and that I was taking him home to starve. I cried as I strolled him out of the building, my baby who eats and eats but never gains weight.
Then on the drive after calling my friends and dumping my heart and after working through it for an hour with my amazing doctor friend, I threw my hands in the air, and I gave up. It wasn’t a beautiful moment, like in the song I Surrender All. It was more like a teenage girl stomping to her bedroom and slamming the door shut, knowing Daddy’s going to do what he’s going to do, and that’s the end of it.
I needed music, turned on Pandora, and All Sons and Daughters’ Oh How I Need You started playing.
Lord I find You in the seeking / Lord I find You in the doubt
And to know You is to love You / And to know so little else
I need You / Oh how I need You
It’s a song that begins seriously and contemplatively, and then it rolls into a song that makes you dance. The next morning at breakfast, I was alone with Titus and a pile of dishes at the sink. The other three boys were with family. I found the song again, put Titus in his high chair, and put on my long purple dishwashing gloves. Titus began fingering at his little bites of fruit, but soon I had backed away from the sink, clapping my hands together, tapping in my house shoes, eyes closed and pouring. After a minute I looked up at Titus’ face and burst into laughter. His mouth was open with food in it, mesmerized by my crazy.
I begged that this would be his first memory: the wet gloves, the penguin pajama pants, the tears, contagious laugh, and a wick in the candle waving fire. There has been more doubt in this season than in any other, but I believe. I know it now. If this life experience with all its pain isn’t to make me holy, if it isn’t to show us that there is dancing in the morning, then it would be true that God isn’t real.
After the laughter, I weighed him on the scales, and without any explanation for it (other than all the prayers you lit when we left for that sweat test), Titus had gained about 5 ounces since the day before. It’s been 2 weeks since then, and he’s kept most of it. He’s suddenly begun to talk, too, and you have to see the way he dances. He dances like it’s what he was made to do.
Our doctor friends have asked us with all the love in the world to have a Merry Christmas. Doctor’s Orders! We’re not testing him again for cystic fibrosis unless his weight curves down. We’ll re-evaluate in January, and until then we’re relaxing, and I really feel like I’m watching his little cheeks round out. Either way. Either way, though, there will be dancing.
I wrote this post on Sunday. Yesterday we weighed Titus, and he had gained a few more ounces! I cried, just so encouraged.
Only a little bit later, he started acting uncomfortable, and I realized as I changed his diaper that a hernia situation was getting bad. We rushed to our pediatrician clinic, and the doctor confirmed it was becoming incarcerated, but he was able to push it back in through Titus’ bloody murder screams. Once back in, he was good as new, but still, he has to have surgery before the end of the week.
Can we say roller coaster? My Mother-in-Law said I was talking about it all as if going to surgery were a trip to the grocery store. I guess I just laugh and do what’s next. What else is there to do once you’re tired of pitching fits? Trust is the only sane option (though some could argue that my laughter has been accompanied by a crazy eye.)
Thank you, friends, for praying.