The Hills and Valleys of Life

I met my husband in 2011 while he was stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky and I lived in a cute little apartment in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. I LOVE Nashville, and miss it to this day. I made wonderful, wonderful friends there, got married there, enjoyed the music scene and even became a foodie, which is saying a lot considering I used to live on cereal and Lean Cuisine.

When my husband told me, six months into our marriage, that we would be moving to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, I was excited but also nervous. Neither of us knew anything about Kansas --- my husband is from Arkansas and I am from Massachusetts. All I could picture was mile upon mile of flat corn fields, while my memory served up black and white movie clips from the Wizard of Oz. Being from New England, I'm used to lush hills and winding roads. How would I do with all of the flatness?

Well, I was in for a surprise. Fort Leavenworth is not flat at all. It is true that there is farmland (yes, corn. But also soybeans!) and the roads tend to be long and straight and plainly named for letters of the alphabet or numbers, but there are also beautiful, rolling hills. The fort itself sits up above the Missouri River, providing a stunning vantage point over the land below.

In October, when Hailey was first admitted to the hospital and her illness was still a mystery, I spent almost every moment of every day and night with her. My husband and other family members would come and go as much as they could, but I never left. I slept by her side in a recliner, and would only leave for an hour or two each day to shower or grab a quick meal. After a month, Hailey began to stabilize and I'd become friends with the nurses who became permanently assigned to my daughter. This gave me enough confidence to leave the hospital, and our room at the Ronald McDonald House, to move back home with my husband and son in our home on post. We realized we couldn't keep going in "crisis mode", that our hospital stay would likely last multiple months, and I needed to find a way to maintain some presence in my two-year-old son's life as well as Hailey's.

Each morning, I would wake up, drop my son off at daycare with his best friend, and drive the hour down to the hospital to see Hailey. As anxious as I always was to see our daughter, I enjoyed the drive. I find the land incredibly beautiful here, and the views would bring me some peace. I started to think about the flat bits of farmland I'd drive through, just on the other side of the Missouri River. How you could see everything as far as your vision would stretch. And then I'd smile as I drove out of the farm fields and up into the hills that bordered them. Some hills were so steep that my stomach would drop if I drove over top of them too fast! The change in perspective got me thinking about the hills and valleys of life.

I love hills and mountains and hiking and canoeing down rivers and four-wheeling through the woods. (Beaches are fun, but I'm a mountain girl at heart.) And yet, I'd compare my life to the flat farm fields I would drive through. I have always tried to exert control: to live a flat life where I could see everything coming as much as possible and prepare for it. And sure, there were some surprises along the way, but I always felt pretty well in charge.

Hailey's illness taught me what an illusion control really is. I have never been more not-in-control in my entire life. Every day held hills and valleys and I never knew which would be when or how fast the next would come. It made my head spin and I grew more and more anxious. But Hailey, and God through her, was teaching me a lesson. And it was this: I don't, actually, want to be in control. They wore me down until I came to that realization.

No matter what I did or didn't do, there was no explanation for what was going on with our daughter. She would get better in one area, only to decline in new and different ways. Trust me, I tried everything. I prayed. I went to the hospital chapel every day and prayed. I would chant prayers at night until I drifted off to sleep. I tried to make bargains with God. I pleaded. At the same time, I also tried to ask the doctors smart questions and to make sure I was doing my scientific research.

All of this to say is that whether you believe in God or science or something else, I implore you to believe in some thing or some one bigger than yourself. It is too exhausting to own complete responsibility for every outcome in your life. It is daunting, and can make you feel helpless. But if you have faith in something greater than yourself, you can share that burden. Even give it up at times.

For me, I personally believe in God. When I realized I was trying to control an utterly uncontrollable event, I did as they say and after great struggle, I "Let Go and Let God." In doing so, I realized the outcome might very well be one I dreaded. But I finally knew it wasn't up to me. And I don't fault God for not giving us the miracle for which we begged. Some people learn things through experiencing miracles while others learn through trials. God chose that we should learn through trial right now, and I accept that.

Losing Hailey has certainly been the single deepest valley of my life. But in coming to this place, and learning to live in it, I know I will be able to better appreciate the view from on top of the next hill, when it comes. This up and down life may be scarier than a flat one, but it will also be richer. I appreciate every little thing so much more than I ever could have imagined before. My heart fills when I see tiny birds chirping because they remind me even the littlest creatures are by God's design and under his care, just as Hailey is. I love my son even more than I did before, and don't take a single thing about him for granted. I hold better and more frequent conversations with God. I've slowed down, and listened more. I look for the divine in everything.

I am sad to say that in May, we will be leaving Fort Leavenworth and its beautiful landscapes behind. But, this next Army move is providing us with a much-appreciated fresh start in Fort Stewart, Georgia. We just bought a house, which I am excited to paint and decorate. The morning light streams into the backside of the house, where we will eat our breakfast together and play. The backyard offers beautiful views, to include a wonderful old tree draped with Spanish Moss. And, shortly after we move in, my husband will deploy again. So, there are more hills and valleys ahead. I have my suspicions on which will be which, but I am going forward with an open heart and an open mind! I am so thankful for our blessings, and for our beautiful angel, Hailey. I take great comfort that she is watching out for us as we take on this next adventure.