It is late and I am in a fog. On top of the tidal wave of support we've received from everyone, I've been preoccupied with my ready-made family, a newborn and reports from Arizona.
Christian is now talking.
Steph goes to surgery tomorrow for more skin grafts.
I know that me spilling the news about Christian's latest ability will induce all sorts of questions. Please know that he is still sedated, and his conversations are not much more than a medley of sleep-talking mumbo jumbo. It has been funny to hear family members share what our verbose mummy had to say to them. Obviously, he is no longer intubated. Go Mr. Nielson go!
When I first visited my sister a week ago (was it only a week ago?) I was impressed by two (now permanent) pressing thoughts about my Steph:
Take care of her children.
Continue to tell her story.
Through the collection of world wide prayers and gratuitous support from family, I am taking care of the children. I mean, I make them brush their teeth every-so-often. And read books to them. And maybe let Jane have one (just one little itty bitty) bite of chocolate cake for breakfast this morning . . . but that was only because I had left it out on the table where she takes her meals and it was wrong of me to tempt her so early in the morning . . . right?
(Don't tell Nie. It was so very un-Nie-ish of me!)
Now, as for the story telling. I have dedicated my thoughts to this cause. Along with so many blog owners who have also posted their insights into the situation, I will continue to do so until my sister can pick up where I left off. I pray for that day, though I prepare for a patient future.
Do you know what I miss? Clicking on my "I read Nie Nie" button to see what Steph has posted about her lovely life. Our life. Because hers and mine are the same.
Should you intend to read along and you'd like to have my button on your blog, you can get it here:
(Thanks again to my overpaid web designer Jed Wells.)
Off to bed . . .