Right now

as i said before, there is so much to say about how I got to where I am now, and I will go there to be sure, as it has been the most horrific, terrifying and painful experience I have had. But in the interest of getting you to the here and now, I'll begin here.

I sit here in my hospital room using the iPad my loving friend, Amanda lent me. It is a most yummy little gadget and makes my life so much more bearable being here.

Not long ago I finished my twice daily "wound care". My wound is large, though purposely I have never viewed it myself. It goes from my upper hip down to my knee, where there is an 8 inch, crossways incision across my leg above my knee. It is an open wound, one that they pack with different materials and dressings. It gets washed out daily with a motorized water pic as well. Not fun. Wound care, puts me in a mental, emotional and physical space that is much different than labor. It's that caged animal, ready for electrocution feeling. I rely heavily on the nurses who prepare me prior to each experience, who anticipate my needs and go as gently and lovingly as they can. Yes, I am here to say that love and compassion can still be found quite alive and well in traditional Western medicine.

They prep me with a lot of meds to enable me to bear my wound care. Roger acts right alongside they nurses. He is amazing. When it's time to start the actual care, he takes his spot right next to me holding my hand and maintaining my eye contact, my sanity. He tells me when to breath, how to come back when I'm feeling I might be truly losing it. He tells me stories, mostly of he things we'll all do when I get to go home, or even this summer. We talk about our babies, things we miss about them, even the naughty things.

He tells me I am brave and strong, which I don't feel, but it helps me to pretend.

Most of all, I breathe. There is no other choice, really, than the breath.

I don't speak often and especially not via social media about spirituality, but I truly have to say without question that God has been near to me this entire time. Some of you may have read Anne LaMott talk about her experience of Jesus being like a kitty in the room, just watching over her. I relate. In my breathing, I feel God's warm presence, and sometimes my breath becomes like prayer. Nothing fancy. Just please. Thank you. Please. Thank you. Please oh please.

Doctors come and go to check my progress, my stats. The best news came today when my white blood cell count dropped into the normal territory. This is monumental. It is one of the major factors that will get me home, which appears still to be weeks away. Months upon months away is a more full recovery. Everyone keeps telling me of the long road ahead, even given how well things have gone for me relative to the cards I was dealt. I will most likely need skin grafting. In fact, the "the Plastics Surgery Team" may become my primary medical folks as of tomorrow. I don't fully understand what that means. I just hope it's good.

I have overflowing gratitude to my friends and family who have been helping me through all of this. Erin has dropped everything for me to do everything for me, for us. Pete and his family have been holding down the fort at home, doing all the work I don't see, and they have brought my little Ada Pearl into their homes on many a night, even with their own little lovey girl at home. And that's just a little slice of what they've done. They are angels beyond measure.

Angle and Johannes, Wolfie and Luz,Colin,Amanda & John, Nia----all the best aunts and uncles who have been here, been here, been here. My sweet Ada is with Wolfie and Luz right now, and will continue to be for a while. It is so good to see her with them and feel completely at ease and even in awe of how she is cared for with them.

Boppa Rog and Grandma Sha Sha have had the boys since the beginning. If you know them at all, you know what an undertaking it is for them, and you also know how lucky my boys are.

Which a brings me to My Babies. My heart is in a constant state of ache for them. It is put at much ease knowing they are with those who have extended their hearts and homes to them, but still, I ache. I ache for their little faces, breathing next to mine, their voices, their hands, their everything. They are what keep me going here, so that I can get back to them, just to be with them,the way I should be. Please pray for them, that they feel our love from afar.

It is late, and I am rambling, but I want you to know that I feel your love here. I do. And I am using it to fight my way out of this awful mess that I haven't even begun to understand.

In leaving tonight I want to leave you with a little raw honesty too. I have also felt the fires of intense anger as I have never before. They arise quickly and make their rage known. The odd thing is that rage is often followed by gratitude for something I've been able to experience here via this infection. It almost makes me mad to think those thoughts too, as this all feels so exceedingly wrong, but I think it will all become much clearer as time goes on. xoxo

More tomorrow from the trenches. Irregularly early wound care in the morning. Wish me luck!